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PULPIT    ELOQUENCE 

OP 

^l)c  Ninctccntl)  Centtttij: 


BEING    SUPPLE:aEXTARY    TO   THE   HISTORY   AND    REPOSITOK 
OF  PULPIT  ELOQUENCE,  DECEASED  DIVINES; 


AND   CONTAINING  DISCOUESES   OF 


EMINENT    LIVING   MINISTERS 

IN 

EUEOPE    Al^T^    AMERICA, 

WITH 

SKETCHES  BIOGRAPHICAL  AND  DESCRIPTIVE, 

BY 

REV.  HENRY  C.FISH. 

•vt^ith:    jl     s  tj  i^  :p  Xj  s  3VC  IE  isr  t, 

CARRYIKG   DOWN   THE  WORK   TO   1S74, 

AND   INCLUDING   DISCOURSES   BY 

BEEOHEE,   ADAMS,   PARKER,   TALMAUGE, 

AND    MANY   OTHERS. 


WITH    AN    INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY, 
BY  EDWARDS  A.  PARK,  D.D., 

ABBOTT     rnOFESSOK     IN     ANDOVEK     T  H  E  O  L  O  G  I  C  A  I,     SEMINAEY. 


NEW    YORK: 
DODD    &    MEAD,    PUBLISHERS, 

7G2B  ROAD  WAY.  / 


/^'j.r 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Consrress,  in  the  year  1S7-1,  by 

DODD   &   MEAD, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington, 


John  F.  Tkow  &  Son, 

Pkinteks  and  Bookbinders, 

205-213  Kast  12/A  St., 

K8\V  VOKK. 


PREFACE. 

The  publication  of  this  volume  completes  the  original  design  of 
the  "History  and  Repository  of  Pulpit  Eloquence."  That 
design  was,  in  brief,  to  treasure  up  the  acknowledged  Masterpieces 
of  the  great  pulpit  orators  of  other  ages,  and,  by  means  of  his- 
torical sketches  of  preaching,  and  biographical  and  critical  notices 
of  eminent  men,  and  the  introduction  of  their  discourses,  to  furnish 
a  view  of  the  Christian  Pulpit  in  all  ages  and  countries. 

The  two  preceding  volumes,  reaching  back  to  the  earliest  of  the 
"  Fathers,"  brought  forward  a  somewhat  connected  view  of  preach- 
ers and  preaching,  up  to  the  beginning  of  the  present  century. 
The  active  life  of  few  of  the  men  there  introduced,  fell  this  side  of 
that  period.  A  fuller  exhibition  of  the  pulpit,  as  it  noiu  stands 
among  the  different  nations  of  the  earth,  was  therefore  obviously 
req[uisite  ;  and  such  an  exhibition  is  here  given.  Taken  together, 
and  in  their  different  aspects,  it  is  believed  that  these  volumes 
embrace  the  materials  for  arriving  at  a  fair  estimate  of  the  leading 
features  of  the  ministry  and  its  productions,  in  the  different  parts 
of  Christendom,  from  the  days  of  the  apostles  until  now  ;  besides 
supplying  a  large  amount  of  sanctified  Christian  eloquence,  on  a 
great  variety  of  themes. 

The  already  wide  circulation  of  the  previous  volumes,  and  the 
public  and  private  commendations  which  many  of  the  leaders  of 
public  sentiment  have  been  pleased  to  express,  together  with  the 
hope  that  they  were,  in  some  small  degree,  subserving  the  best  of 
causes,  have  compensated  for  the  labor  involved  in  their  i)repara- 
tion,  and  led  to  the  j^ublication  of  this  supplementary  volume. 

Each  of  the  countries  where  the  Christian  religion  has  extensively 
prevailed,  has  been  as  fully  represented  as  the  limits  of  the  volume 
would  allow,  and  each  branch  of  the  Evangelical  family  as  well 


[y  PREFACE. 

In  aliPiOst  every  instance,  tlie  preacher  has  been  requested  to  indi- 
cate his  pleasure  as  to  the  discourse  to  be  introduced.  The  Bio- 
graphical and  Descriptive  Sketches  are  designed  to  promote  ac- 
quaintance with  ministers  in  different  countries,  indicate  the  pecu- 
liarities of  their  eloquence,  and  give  to  the  discourses  presented 
additional  interest.  The  facts  which  are  furnished  are  the  result  of 
extensive  correspondence,  and  may  be  relied  upon  as'authentic. 

Many  of  the  discourses  found  in  this  volume  are  now  for  the  first 
time  published.  This  is  especially  true  of  the  American  depart- 
ment, which  is  exceedingly  rich,  and  will  compare  favorably  with 
either  of  the  other  pulpits  represented.  Of  course,  the  number  of 
preacliers  in  this  department,  and  indeed  in  every  other,  might  have 
been  greatly  increased,  and  with  an  equal  display  of  ability,  had 
the  limits  of  the  work  permitted.  The  selections  have  been  made 
with  much  deliberation,  and  in  cases  admitting  of  doubt,  after 
proper  consultation. 

It  will  be  seen  that  one  third  of  all  the  sermons  in  the  volume 
(about  sixty  in  number),  are  from  the  foreign  languages.  Diligent 
attention  has  been  bestowed  upon  the  translation  of  the  discourses 
of  tnis  character,  and  no  labor  has  been  withheld  to  give  to  them 
their  best  possible  rendering  into  the  English  tongue.  Several  em- 
inent scholars,  announced  in  connection  with  the  work  of  translations 
for  the  previous  volumes,  have  in  this  rendered  like  valuable  services. 
Their  names  need  not  be  repeated. 

The  most  grateful  acknowledgments  are  due  to  the  various  cler- 
gymen, at  home  and  abroad,  who  have  been  so  kind  as  to  forward 
the  interests  of  this  publication.  To  their  cheerful  co-operation, 
counsel,  and  assistance,  much  of  its  present  completeness  is  to  be 
attributed. 

In  its  perfected  form,  the  work  is  now  laid  upon  the  altar  of  His 
service,  by  whose  favor  its  consummation  has  been  reached  :  and 
may  He  cause  these  volumes  still  further  to  subserve  the  high 
interests,  which  it  is  the  office  of  the  Christian  ministry  especially 
to  promote. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  AprU  21,  1857. 


Or 


PHIITCIITOIT 


\ 


TABLE    OF   CONTENTS 


THE    GERMAN   PULPIT 


'     FRED.   AUG.    GOT.   TIIOLUCK 

CHRIST  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  HUMAN  HEARTS,  .... 


33 


JULIUS    MULLER. 
LOVE  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.— 1  Jonx,  iv.  16-21, 

III. 
.C.   A.   HARLESS. 
JOY  IN  CHRIST  FOR  ALL  NATIONS.— Luke,  ii.  8-11, 

lY. 
CARL    IMMAXUEL    NITZSCII. 

THE  PREACHING  OF  CHRIST  CRUCIFIED.— 1  Corinthians,  i.  23,  .     .     . 


A^ 


RUDOLF    STIER. 

THE  THREE  PILLARS  OF  OUR  FAITTL— 1  Corin-tuiaxs,  xv.  1-10,. 

~  VI. 
FRED.    WILLIAM    X  RUM  MAC  HER. 
THE  INTERVIEW  OF  JACOB'S  WELL.— Johx,  iv.  5-29 


VII. 
W.    HOFFMANN.' 

THE  LAST  JUDGMENT.— RKVEL.vnoN',  xx.  11,  12.     .     . 


VIII. 
EMIL    AV.    KRUMMACIIER.  " 

THE  ABANDONMENT  OF  CHRIST  ON  THE  CROSS.— M.vttiiew,  xxvii.  45,  46, 

IX. 

nil  LIP    SCIIAFF. 

'JACOB  WRESTLING  ^ITFI  GOD.— Gexkstr,  xxii.  21-;il, 


103 


Vi  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 


THE    FRENCH    PULPIT. 
X. 

J.    H.    MERLE    D'AUBIGNE. 

PAOl 

THE  THREE  ONLYS.— Isaiau,  viii.  20 ,  Ephesians.  ii.  5 ;  John,  iil  6,      ...     123 

XI. 

S.  .R.    L.    GAUSSEN. 
THE  FALL  OF  CHARLES  THE  TENTH.— Revelation,  iii.  11, 139 

XII. 

CtESAR    MALAN. 

THE  PIETY  OF  YOUNG  DANIEL.— Daniel,  i.  8-15, .149 

XIII. 

ADOLPIIE    MO  NOD.* 

THE  ENDEARING  ATTRIBUTE.— 1  John,  iv.  8 164 

XIV. 

J.    II.    GRANDPIERRE. 

THE  TEARS  OF  JESUS.— John,  xi.  35, 186 

XV. 

ATHANASE    COQUEREL. 

THE  UNBELIEF  OF  THOMAS.— John,  xx.  24-29, 194 

XVI. 

WILLIAM    MO  NOD. 

GOD'S  CONTROVERSY  WITH  HIS  PEOPLE.— Micah,  vi.  2-4, 204 

XVII. 

J.    J.    AUDEBEZ. 

DEATH  THE  GATE  OF  HEAYEN.— Revelation,  xiv.  13, 218 


THE    AMERICAN    PULPIT. 

XVIII.  * 

WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 
THE  RELATIONS  OF  POPERY  AND  INFIDELITY— Romans,  ii.  24,    .    .    .     229 

XIX. 

ALBERT    BARNES. 

THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  GOSPEL  ON  THE  IMAGINATION.— 2  Corinth- 

IJVNS,  X.  5, 253 

*  Deceased  since  the  preparation  of  the  work  was  commenced. 


TABLE    OF    COXTENTS. 

XX. 
ROBERT   J.   BRECKINRIDGE. 
-  FIDELITY  IN  OUR  LOT.— Esther,  iv.  14, 


XXL 

JOHN    McCLINTOCK. 

THE  GROUND  OF  MAN'S  LOVE  TO  GOD.— 1  Jous,  iv.  19 285 

XXTI. 
MARK    HOPKINS. 

THE  RELATIONS  OF  SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION.— 1  Timothy,  vi.  20,  21,      .     205 

XXHL 
GEORGE    W.    BETIIUNE. 

VICTORY  OVER  DEATH  AND  THE  GRAVE.— 1  Corinthians,  xv.  5.5-57,     .     309 

XXIV. 
ALONZO    POTTER. 

THE  INTERNAL  CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  BIBLE.— 2  TmoTHT,  iii.  16,      .     .     319 

XXV. 
FREDERIC    D.    HUNTINGTON. 
THREE  DISPENSATIONS  IN  HISTORY  AND  IN  THE  SOUL.— Galatians, 

iii.  6;  John,  L  17, 334 

XXVI. 
RICHARD    FULLER. 
■^  THE  DESIRE  OF  ALL  NATIONS.— Haggai,  ii.  7, 347 

XXVIL 
THOMAS    H.    SKINNER. 

SPIRITUAL  JOY  AS  AN  ELEMENT  OF  STRENGTH.— Nehemiah,  -riii.  10,   .     3G3 

xxvm. 

ELIPIIALET    NOTT 

THE  FALL  OF  HAMILTON.— 2  Samuel,  i.  19 378 

XXIX. 

JOHN    P.    DURBIN. 

THE  OMNIPRESENCE  OF  GOD.— 2  CnuoxiCLES,  vL  18, 394 

XXX. 

LYMAN    BEECHER. 

THE  REMEDY  FOR  DUELING.— Isaiah,  li.\-.  14,  15, ,  409 


viii  TABLE    OF    CONTENTS. 

XXXL 

JAMES    KOMEYN. 

PA  OB 

ENMITY  TO  THE  CROSS  OP  CHRIST.— Philippians,  iii.  18 423 

XXXII. 
V.                           CHARLES    PETIT    McILVAINE. 
■^~  THE  RESURRECTION  OP  CHRIST.— Luke,  xxiy.  34, 441 

XXXIII. 

FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

THE  MORAL  DTGNITT  OP  MISSIONS.— Matthew,  xiiL  38, 457 

XXXIV. 

GEORGE    F.    PIERCE. 

DEVOTEDNESS  TO  CHRIST.— Romans,  xiv.  1,8, 472 

XXXV. 
RICHARD    S.    STORRS,Jr. 
-THE  PRIVILEGE  OF  COMMUNION  WITH  GOD.— Psalm  xvii.  15,   ...    .     486 


THE    ENGLISH    PULPIT. 

XXXVI. 

HENRY    MELVILL. 

THE  REPRODUCTIVE  POWER  OF  HUMAN  ACTIONS.— Galatians,  vi.  7,   .     503 

XXXVII. 
JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

THE  UNION  OF  TRUTH  AND  LOVE.— Epiiesians,  iv.  5 518 


^ 


XXXVHI. 

BAPTIST    W.    NOEL. 

THE  FAITH  THAT  SAVES  THE  SOUL.— Romans,  iii.  25, ..541 

XXXIX. 
JABEZ    BUNTING. 

THE  GUILT  AND  GROUNDLESSNESS  OF  UNBELIEF.— Mark,  vi.  6, .    .    .     554 

XL. 
HUGH   Mo  NEIL. 

JITSTFRIKS  IN  RELIGION.- ISAiMi,  xiv.  15, 568 


TABLE     OF     CONTENTS.  ix 

XLL 
THOMAS    BINNEY. 

PAGH 

LIFE  AND  IMMORTALITY  EROUGIIT  TO  LIGHT.— 2  Timothy,  i.  10,       .     .     iiSO 

XLII. 
WILLIAM    ARTHUR. 

THE  GIFT  OF  POWER.— Luke,  xxiv.  49, ,>»l8'^v^-. 

XLIIL  .l^V?'^'^"'*    "'■ 


-SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT.— Job,  xxxv.  10, 


CHARLES    H.    S  PURGE  0  MTp  ^Xl^  C  Si 'i'^^^ 

v> .604 


THE    SCOTCn    rui^rii.     -n^j 

XLIV  ^'l^ivvv^i^V 


THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 
THE  NEW  HEART.— EzEKiEL,  sxsvi.  10,  623 

XLV 
ALEXANDER    DUFF. 

MISSIONS  THE  CHIEF  END  OF  THE  CHURCH.— Psalm  Ixvii.,  1,  2,    .    .     .     638 

XLVL 

JOHN   CAIRD. 

RELIGION  IN  COMMON  LIFE.— Romans,  xii.  11, 654 

XLVIL 
JOHN    McFARLANE. 
A.LTAR-GOLD;   OR,  CHRIST  WORTHY  TO  RECEIVE  RICHES.— Revela- 
tion, V.  12, 672 

XLVIIL 
JOHN    GUMMING. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION,  OR  NO  RELIGION.— John,  vi.  67   68,  .   .    .    .     691 

XLIX. 

JAMES    BUCHANAN. 

THE  DYING  MALEFACTOR.— Luke,  xxiii.  39-43, 703 

L. 

ROBERT    S.    CANDLISH. 

THE  UNIVERSAL  DOOM.— Exodus,  i.  6, 714 

LT. 
JAMES    HAMILTON. 
THE   PARTING    PROMISE,   AND    THE   PRESENT    SAVIOUR.— M.vTTnEW, 

xxviii.  20, 725 


X  TABLE     OF     CONTENTS. 

THE    IRISH    PULPIT. 

LII. 

HENRY    COOKE. 

PAGR 

UNCONSCIOUS  SPIRITUAL  DECAY.— Revelation,  iiL  1,  2,  .    .  ....     739 

LIIL 

RICHARD    WHATELY. 

THE  NAME  IMMANUEL.— Matthew,  I  23, 151 

LIV. 

ALEXANDER    KING. 

A  WARNING  TO  THE  CHURCHES.— Revelation,  ii.  7, 765 

LY. 
ROBERT    IRYING. 

THE  SELF-EYIDENCING  POWER  OF  THE  TRUTH.— 1  John,  v.  10,    .    .    .     774 


THE  WELSH  PULPIT. 

LYL 

WILLIAM    ROBERTS. 

CHRIST  THE  MIGHTY  SAVIOUR.- Isaiah,  Lxiu.  1, 785 

LYII. 

WILLIAM    REES. 

SORROWING  SOULS  AND  STARRY  SYSTEMS.— Psalm  cxlvii.  3,  4,      ...     795 

LYIII. 

THOMAS    AUBREY. 

CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORK  AWAKENING  PRAISE.— Revelation,  l  5,  6, .    .    799 


SUPPLEMENT. 

LIX. 

JAMES    McCOSH. 

UNITY  WITH  DIVERSITY.— 1  Corinthians,  xii,  4-6, 817 

LX. 
NEWMAN    HALL. 

THE  PENITENT  THIEF.— Luke,  xxiii.  42,        830 


TABLE    OF    CONTENTS.  xi 


LXI. 
HENRY    WARD    BEE CHER. 

PAGE 

THE  NATURE  OF  CHRIST.— Hkbkews,  4-17,  18, 847 

LXIL 

]\I  A  T  T  H  E  W    S  I  I\l  P  S  O  N  , 

■INFLUENCE  OF  RIGHT  VIEWS  OF  GOD.— Exodus,  xxxiii.  18-20,      .     .     859 

LXiir. 

GEORGE    H.    HEP  WORTH. 
HAPPINESS  IN  ACCORD  WITH  LAW.— M.vttiiew,  v.  17, 877 

LXIV. 

T.    DEW  ITT    TALMA  ^GE. 

AS  THE  STARS  FOREVER, 895 

LXV. 
JOSEPH    PARKER. 

904 

LXYI. 

WILLIAM    ADAMS. 

THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  GOD, 911 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX  TO  PEEACHERS. 


PEEACnEB.                             A  PAGE 

Arthur, 594 

Aubrey, '799 

Audebez, 218 

B 

Barnes, 253 

Beecher, 409 

Bethune, 308 

Binney, 580 

Breckinridge, 267 

Buchanan, 703 

Bunting, 55G 

0 

Caird 654 

Candlish, 714 

Cooke, 739 

Coquerel, 186 

Cumming, 691 

D 

D'Aubigne, 123 

Duff, 639 

Durbin, 391 

P 

Fuller, 347 

G 

Gaussen, 139 

Grandpierre, 186 

Guthrie, 623 

H 

Ilarailton, 725 

ITarless, 54 

lioffman, 93 

Hopkins, 295 

Huntington, 334 

I 

Irving, 774 

J 

James, 518 


PEEACnEE.  K  PAGI 

King, 765 

Krummacher,  Emil  W 103 

Krammacher,  F.  W 83 

M 

Malan, 149 

McClintock, 285 

McFarlane, 672 

Mcllvaine, 441 

McNeil, 568 

Melvill, 503 

Monod,    Adolphe, 164 

Monod,  Wm 204 

Miiller, 44 

N 

Nitzsch, 6.^ 

Noel, ' 541 

Nott, 379 

P 

Pierce, 472 

Potter, 319 

R 

Pees, 795 

Poberts, 785 

Ronieyn, 423 

S 

Schaff, 110 

Skinner, 363 

Spurgeon, 606 

Slier, 73 

Storrs, 485 

T 
Tholuck, 33 

W 

Wayland, 457 

"Whately 757 

"Williams 223 


SUPPLEMENT. 


Adams, 

Beecher, 847 

Hall,  Newman, 8:J0 

Hcpworth, ^^~ 


McCosh, 817 

McGlaren, 887 

Parker, 004 

Taluiadcre, ^i>.j 


INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  PREACHER. 

The  remark  has  been  often  made,  tliat  a  scholar  of  but  moderate 
powers  can  be  more  certain  of  a  liveliliood  in  the  profession  of  divinity, 
than  in  tliat  of  law  or  jDhysic.  It  is  snid  that  men  are  more  willing  to 
hitrust  the  care  of  their  souls,  than  of  their  bodies  or  estates,  to  incom- 
petent pretenders.  In  order  to  attain  eminence  at  the  bar,  a  man  must 
analyze  with  great  care  the  principles  of  ethics  and  jurisprudence,  must 
be  familiar  with  the  intricate  windings  of  the  human  heart,  must  be  well 
versed  in  the  history  of  nations  as  well  as  indi\idnals,  must  retain  in  his 
memory  a  multitude  of  statutes  and  precedents,  must  be  capable  of 
intense  mental  application  to  an  individual  case  for  a  long  time,  must  be 
calm  amid  the  excitement  of  all  around  him,  must  think  amid  noise  and 
confusion,  must  be  ready  for  emergencies,  for  sudden  rejoinder  and  rep- 
artee, for  extemporaneous  analysis  and  invention,  as  well  a»  unpremed- 
itated speech.  But  in  order  to  succeed  in  the  ministry,  it  is  said,  no 
more  intellectual  effort  is  required  than  to  understand  a  number  of 
truths  in  which  the  way-faring  nuin,  though  a  fool,  need  not  err ;  to  pen 
homilies  in  the  retirement  of  the  study;  to  read  them  without  the  perils 
of  being  interrupted  and  confused  or  perhaps  refuted  by  antagonists ; 
to  go  from  house  to  house,  uttering  mild  and  sweet  words  to  men, 
Momen  and  children.  Thus  has  an  opinion  gone  abroad  that  the  clerical 
profession  makes  a  less  imperative  demand  than  the  legal,  u})on  the 
energies  of  the  mind  and  will.  It  is  recorded  of  certain  men,  that  "  being 
of  a  weakly  habit,"  they  were  set  apart  for  the  church.  Some  eminent 
politicians  have  entered  upon  active  life  as  clergymen,  but  have  aban- 
doned their  sacred  vocation,  because  they  deemed  its  sphere  of  activity 
too  low  and  small.  Young  men  of  promise  often  turn  away  from  the 
ministry,  because  it  seems  to  demand  of  them  a  sacrifice  of  mental  excel- 
lence. "Marrying  and  christening  machines"  have  the  clei'gymen  of 
certain  churches  been  called,  not  without  some  colormg  of  truth.  "As 
dull  as  a  sermon,"  has  become  a  proverbial  ])hrase.  In  the  memoir  of  an 
eminent  preacher  we  read  the  following  words,  which  he  addressed  in  a 


14  INTRODUCTORY     ESSAY. 

letter  to  a  friend :  "I  am  so  used  to  writing  sermons,  that  I  have  prosed 
away  here  most  unconsciously."  But  it  was  a  sagacious  remark  made 
by  Robert  Hall  to  his  fellow-clergymen :  "  The  moment  we  permit  our- 
selves to  think  lightly  of  the  Christian  ministry,  our  right  arm  is  with- 
ered :  nothing  but  imbecility  and  relaxation  remains.  For  no  man  ever 
excelled  in  a  profession  to  which  he  did  not  feel  an  attachment  bordering 
on  enthusiasm ;  though  what  in  other  professions  is  enthusiasm,  is  in 
ours  the  dictate  of  sobriety  and  truth." 

In  order  to  form  a  proper  estimate  of  the  worth  and  grandeur  of  the 
preacher's  office,  it  is  well  to  consider  the  influence  which  he  exerts  upon 
the  community.  It  is  often  said,  that  the  effiscts  which  he  produces 
afford  no  argument  in  favor  of  the  office  which  he  holds  ;  for  every  man 
and  every  event  may  be  the  occasion  of  results  which  no  finite  mind  is 
able  to  comprehend.  The  genius  of  Robert  Hall  received  no  inconsid- 
erable aid  from  the  conversation  of  a  tailor.  A  single  leaf  from  Boston's 
Fourfold  State,  found  and  perused  by  an  individual  in  Virginia,  led  to 
the  small  gathering  at  "  Morris's  Reading  House,"  and  to  the  preaching 
of  Robinson  in  that  house,  and  to  the  assistance  of  Samuel  Davies  in  his 
education  for  the  ministry,  and  to  the  subsequent  employment  of  this 
'•^prince  of  preachers''''  in  the  vicinity  of  that  same  reading  house,  and  to 
the  long-continued  results  of  his  labors  in  the  region  which  was  first 
enlightened  by  a  leaf  from  the  "  Fourfold  State,"  But  from  the  cii'cum- 
stance  that  all  things  are  important  in  their  operation  upon  society,  it 
were  singular  to  infer  that  the  Christian  ministry  is  not  important.  The 
agency  of  many  causes  is,  in  the  common  language,  accidental;  that  of 
the  pulpit  is  the  uniform  operation  of  known  laws.  It  is  a  prominent 
agency,  attended  with  consequences  peculiarly  extensive,  and  meliorating 
the  state  of  man  more  directly  than  is  done  by  other  causes — more  uni- 
formly and  more  radically. 

The  preacher  has  an  influence  upon  the  intellect  of  his  hearers.  He 
presents  to  it  the  most  enlivening  and  enlarging  thoughts  ;  and  nothing 
takes  so  deep  a  hold  of  the  reasoning  powers  as  the  series  of  proofs  which 
he  may  enforce.  The  mind  is  invigorated  by  grappling  with  the  objec- 
tions that  have  been  urged  against  the  omniscience  and  goodness  of  God, 
the  responsibility  of  man,  the  whole  scheme  of  moral  government.  A 
sermon,  if  it  be  in  good  feith  a  sermon,  reaches  the  very  elements  of  the 
soul,  and  stirs  up  its  hidden  energies ;  for  such  a  sermon  is  a  message 
from  God ;  is  pregnant  with  what  the  mind  was  made  for — the  solemn 
realities  of  eternity ;  is  prolific,  if  need  be,  in  stern  and  skillful  argument, 
liolds  out  a  rich  reward  to  man's  desire  of  mental  progress,  and  allures, 
as  Avell  as  urges,  to  an  intense  love  of  study.  It  is  a  book  of  mental  dis- 
cipline to  its  hcareis,  and  its  author  is  a  schoolmaster  for  cliildieu  of  a 
larger  growth.     A  Intc  professor  in  one  of  our  universities,  who  has  been 


THE    INFLUENCE     OF    THE     PREACHER.  15 

famed  throughout  the  land  for  his  effective  eloquence  at  the  bar  and  on 
the  floor  of  Congress,  says  that  he  first  learned  how  to  reason  while 
hearing  the  sermons  of  a  New  England  pastor,  who  began  to  preach 
before  he  had  studied  a  single  treatise  on  style  or  elocution  ;  and  two  or 
three  erudite  jurists,  who  dislike  the  theological  opinions  of  this  divine, 
have  recommended  his  sermons  to  law  students  as  models  of  logical 
argument,  and  affording  a  kind  of  gymnastic  exercise  to  the  mind.  It 
is  thus  that  one  of  the  most  modest  of  men,  while  writing  his  plain  ser- 
mons, was  exerting  a  prospective  influence  over  our  civil  and  judicial 
tribunals.  The  pulpit  of  a  country  village  was  preparing  speeches  for 
the  Congress  of  the  nation.  The  discourses  and  treatises  of  such  divines 
as  Chilling-worth*  and  Butler  have  been  often  kept  by  lawyers  and 
statesmen,  on  the  same  shelf  with  Euclid  and  Lacroix.  Patrick  Henry 
lived  from  his  eleventh  to  his  twenty-second  year  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Samuel  Davies,  and  is  said  to  have  been  stimulated  to  his  masterly 
efforts  by  the  discourses  of  him  who  has  been  called  the  first  of  Amer- 
ican preachers.  He  often  spoke  of  Davies  in  teniis  of  enthusiastic 
praise,  and  resembled  him  in  some  characteristics  of  his  eloquence.f 

The  minister's  influence  is  upon  the  taste,  as  well  as  intellect.  There 
is  a  kind  of  mystic  miion  among  all  the  virtues  and.  excellences  of  the 
head  and  heart.  A  golden  chain  seems  to  bind  them  together,  and 
when  one  link  is  gained  all  the  rest  are  drawn  along  with  it.  Thus  there 
is  a  strange  tie  between  the  sense  of  right  and  the  sense  of  beauty,  be- 
tween the  good  and  the  elegant.  The  preacher  holds  out  before  his  con- 
gregation the  choicest  models  of  all  that  can  please. the  taste  ;  of  that" 

*  Chillingworth  is  the  writer  whose  works  are  recommendea  for  the  exorcitations  af 
the  student.  Lord  Wansfield,  than  whom  there  could  not  be  a  more  competent  autliority, 
pronounced  him  to  be  a  perfect  model  of  argumentation.  Archbishop  Tillotion  calls  him 
"incomparable,  the  glory  of  his  age  and  nation."  Locke  proposes,  "for  the  attainment  of 
right  reasoning,  the  constant  reading  of  Chillingworth ;  who,  by  his  example,"  he  adds, 
"  will  teach  both  perspicuity  and  the  way  of  right  reasoning,  better  than  any  book  that  I 
know ;  and  theretbre  will  deserve  to  be  read,  upon*  that  account,  over  and  over  again ;  not  to 
say  any  thing  of  his  arguments."  Lord  Clarendon,  also,  who  was  particularly  intimate 
with  him,  thus  celebrates  his  rare  talents  as  a  disputant:  "Mr.  Chillingworth  was  a  man 
of  so  great  subtilty  of  understanding,  and  of  so  rare  a  tenrper  in  del^ate,  that  as  it  was 
impossible  to  provol^e  him  into  any  passion,  so  it  was  very  difficult  to  keep  a  man's  self 
from  being  a  little  discompased  by  his  sharpness  and  quickness  of  argument  and  instances, 
in  which  he  had  a  rare  facility  and  a  great  advantage  over  all  the  men  I  ever  knew.  He 
had  spent  all  his  younger  time  in  disputation ;  and  had  arrived  at  so  great  a  mastery,  as 
he  was  inferior  to  no  man  in  these  skirmishes."  Chillingworth  has  been  named,  for  tho 
reasons  above  assigned,  as  eminently  calculated  to  subserve  the  purposes  of  mental  discip- 
line, for  the  student.  He  need  not,  however,  be  the  only  one :  the  subtle  and  profound 
reasonings  of  Bishop  Butler,  the  pellucid  writings  of  Paley,  the  simplicity,  strength,  and 
perspicuity  of  Tillotsou,  may  all  be  advantageously  resorted  to  by  the  student  anxioua 
about  the  cultivation  of  his  reasoning  faculties." — See  Warren's  Law  Studies,  §§  153,  154, 
160. 

f  See  Davies'  Sermons,  vol.  i.,  p.  xliv.     Stereotyped  ed. 


1(5  INTRODUCTORY     ESSAY. 

spiritual  comeliuess  which  is  the  archetype  of  whatever  ij-  graceful  and 
refined  in  nature  or  art.  By  winning  his  hearers  to  whiil  is  beautiful 
and  grand  in  religious  truth,  he  fosters  the  love  of  those  lo  ver  excellen- 
ces that  are  but  the  shadowings  forth  of  the  good  tilings  in  heaven.  In 
many  minds  he  cherishes  a  taste  for  the  elegances  of  Addis>  n  and  Gray 
and  Cowper  and  Wordsworth,  and  encourages  that  sense  of  honor,  that 
interest  in  heroic  deeds,  that  reverence  for  genius  and  worth,  in  fine,  all 
those  amiable  sentiments,  which  are  aUied  with  a  due  appreciaLion  of  the 
beauties  of  nature  and  art. 

Working,  as  the  preacher  does,  upon  the  mental  sensibilities,  he  of 
course  modifies  the  literary  character  of  a  people.  Whitefield  made  so 
little  pretension  to  scholarship,  that  men  often  smile  when  he  Is  called 
the  pioneer  of  a  great  improvement  in  the  literature  of  Britain.  They 
overlook  the  masculine  and  transforming  energy  of  the  religious  priuci> 
pie,  when  stirred  up,  as  it  was,  by  his  preaching  against  the  pride  and 
indulgences  and  selfishness  of  men.  They  forget  that  influence  often 
works  from  the  lower  classes  upward ;  and  that  when  the  mass  oi"  men 
become  intellectual,  the  higher  orders  must  either  become  so,  or  must 
yield  their  supremacy.  Whatever  operates  deeply  on  the  soul  of  the 
humblest  mechanic,  will  modify  the  character  of  the  popular  literature. 
The  sermons  of  a  parish  minister  are  the  standard  of  taste  to  many  in 
his  society  ;  his  style  is  the  model  for  their  conversation  and  writing ;  his 
provincial  and  outlandish  terms  they  adopt  and  circulate  ;  and  his  mode 
'of  thinking  is  imitated  by  the  school-teacher  and  the  mother,  the  mer- 
chant and  the  manufacturer.  You  can  see  the  eftects  of  his  chaste  or 
rude  style  in  the  language  of  the  plowboy  and  the  small-talk  of  the  nui- 
sery.  He  has  mor6  frequent  communion  than  other  literary  men  witl 
the  middle  classes  of  the  people,  and  through  these  his  influence  extends 
to  the  higher  and  the  loAver.  He  is  the  guardian  of  the  languacce  and 
the  reading  of  the  most  sedate  portions  of  society ;  and  in  their  families 
are  trained  the  men  of  patient  thought  and  accurate  scholarship.  His 
influence  on  the  popular  vocabulary  is  often  overlooked,  and  is  not  al- 
ways the  same  ;  but  he  often  virtually  stands  at  the  parish  gate,  to  let  in 
one  book  and  keep  out  another ;  to  admit  certain  words  and  to  exclude 
certain  phrases,  and  to  introduce  or  discard  barbarisms,  solecisms,  impro- 
priety and  looseness  of  speech.  The  sermons  of  Leighton,  South,  Howe, 
Bates,  Atterbury  and  Paley,  show  somewhat  of  the  extent  to  which  the 
literature  of  England  is  indebted  to  her  priesthood.  When  Lord  Chat- 
ham Avas  asked  the  secret  of  his  dignified  and  eloquent  style,  he  replied 
that  he  had  read  twice,  from  beginning  to  end,  Bayley's  Dictionary,  and 
had  perused  some  of  Dr.  Barrow's  sermons  so  often,  that  he  had  learned 
them  by  heart.  Dryden  "  attributed  his  own  accurate  knowledge  of 
prose  writing,  to  the  frequent  perusal  of  Tillotson's  works."  "  Addison 
regarded  them  as  the  chief  standard  of  our  language,  and  actually  pro- 


THE     INFLUENCE     OF    THE     PREACHER.  17 

jected  an  English  Dictionary  to  be  illustrated  with  particular  phrases  to 
be  selected  from  Tillotson's  sermons."  "  There  is  a  living  writer,"  said 
Dugald  Stewart,  "  who  combines  the  beauties  of  Johnson,  Addison,  and 
Burke,  without  their  imperfections.  It  is,  a  dissenting  minister  of  Cam- 
bridge, the  Rev.  Robert  Hall.  Whoever  wishes  to  see  the  English  lan- 
guage in  its  perfection,  must  read  his  writings."  No  one  can  be  familiar 
wdth  the  style  of  Jeremy  Taylor  and  that  of  several  British  essayists, 
without  recognizing  his  influence  upon  them.  The  tincture  of  his  phra- 
seology is  discernible  in  the  expressions  of  Charles  Lamb  even.  The 
character  of  Herbert's  writings  is  stamped  upon  those  of  Izaak  Walton, 
and  the  insinuating  power  of  Walton  upon  the  English  language  has  not 
been,  nor  will  it  be,  inconsiderable.  Had  not  Martin  Luther  been  trained 
for,  and  in  the  pulpit,  he  had  never  been  so  forceful  and  popular  in  his 
written  essays.  It  was  in  no  small  degree  by  his  sermons  that  he  woke 
up  his  own  mind  and  that  of  his  countrymen.  The  hterature  of  Ger- 
many and  of  the  world  has  been  animated  and  enriched  by  the  results 
of  his  preaching.  Who  can  estimate  the  intellectual  influence  of  the 
Bishop  of  Hippo,  upon  his  own  age  ;  upon  the  Augustinian,  and  other 
monastic  orders  of  succeeding  ages ;  upon  John  Calvin,  and  through 
him,  upon  Switzerland,  Holland,  and,  by  the  intervention  of  John  Knox, 
upon  Scotland,  England  and  America  ;  upon  Schleiermacher  and  through 
liim  upon  Germany  ?  It  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  Augustine  would 
never  have  wielded  this  power  over  the  race,  had  he  not  been  a  preacher ; 
for  his  sacred  calling  stirred  up  the  depths  of  his  soul,  and  gave  him  a 
strength  and  completeness  of  character,  also  a  venerableness  of  name, 
which  a  mere  philosopher,  even  one  like  Aristotle,  can  seldom,  if  evei-, 
acquire. 

The  minister's  influence  is  obvious  upon  the  morals  and  business  of  a 
people.  He  touches  the  main-spring  of  the  political  machine,  and  its 
extremities  are  quickened.  Waking  up  the  intellect,  he  stimulates  to 
enterprise.  Refining  the  taste,  he  throws  an  air  of  neatness  over  the 
parish.  He  pleads  for  industry  and  method,  for  honest  dealing  and  tem- 
perate habits,  for  good  order  in  the  family,  and  school  and  State.  He 
preaches  from  that  text  which  is  the  mother  of  friendship  and  thrift, 
"  Study  to  be  quiet  and  to  do  your  own  business."  He  infuses  new 
vigor  into  the  counting-room,  and  new  ihithfulness  over  the  farm.  Where 
the  true  preacher  is  at  work,  you  will  see  fruits  of  his  labor  in  even  roads 
and  strong  walls  and  thriving  arts  and  a  wholesome  police  ;  but  Avhere 
the  doors  of  the  meeting-house  are  left  unhinged,  and  the  windows  bro- 
ken out,  and  the  pulpit  is  given  up  to  swallows'  nests  and  the  pews  to 
sheep,  there  you  will  find  a  listless  yeomanry  and  ragged  forms,  thin 
schools  and  crowded  bar-rooms.  The  history  of  a  church  is  often  the 
history  of  a  town  ;  when  the  one  flourishes,  the  other  feels  its  influence. 
More  than  twenty  parishes  in  T^Tew  England  might  bo  mentioned,  where 


18  INTRODUCTORY     ESSAY. 

the  settlement  of  a  faithful  pastor  was  the  jireUide  to  rapid  improvements 
in  agriculture  and  trade,  the  style  of  building  and  of  dress,  the  complex- 
ion of  politics,  and  the  whole  cast  of  character.  What  one  preacher 
does  for  a  parish,  thousands  do  for  the  nation.  To  the  complaint  that 
the  ministry  is  expensive,  we  may  reply  m  the  words  of  Dr.  South  :  "  If 
there  was  not  a  minister  in  every  parish,  you  would  quickly  find  cause  to 
increase  the  number  of  constables  ;  and  if  the  churches  were  not  employed 
to  be  places  to  hear  God's  law,  there  would  be  need  of  them  to  be  pris- 
ons for  the  breakers  of  the  laws  of  men."*  Is  it  not  as  wise  an  economy 
to  erect  houses  of  worship,  as  houses  of  correction  ;  to  support  religious 
teachers  as  to  support  more  watchmen  and  busier  hangmen  ?  Even  the 
history  of  the  name,  clergyman^  illustrates  the  humane  relations  that 
subsist  between  the  ministerial  ofiice  and  the  literature,  the  morals,  the 
penal  code  of  the  community.  In  the  books  of  English  law,  we  often 
read  of  criminals  convicted  with  or  without  the  benefit  of  clergy.  This 
benefit  was  an  exemption  from  the  kind  and  degree  of  punishment  pre- 
scribed for  lay  offenders,  and  the  exemption  was  once  extended  to  all 
criminals  who  could  read  and  write.  Still  it  retained  its  instructive  natie, 
the  benefit  of  clergy,  because  nearly  all  who  had  any  acquaintance  with 
the  rudiments  of  education  were  clergymen,  and  an  ability  to  read  was 
a  legal  sign  of  the  sacred  oflSce.  Hence  clergy,  scholars  and  clerks,  were 
convertible  terms  in  the  old  Enghsh  style,  and  clerk  is  still  the  law-term 
for  a  preacher  of  the  gospel.  When  a  man  was  convicted  of  felony  or 
manslaughter,  he  was  "  put  to  read  in  a  Latin  book,  of  a  Gothic  black 
character,  and  if  the  ordinary  of  Newgate  said,  legit  ut  dericus^  i.  e., 
he  reads  Hke  a  clerk,  he  was  only  burned  in  the  hand  and  set  free  ;  other 
wise  he  suffered  death  for  his  crime."  It  is  indeed  a  sad  feature  of  past 
ages,  that  the  circumstance  of  having  received  a  clerk's  education,  should 
have  released  an  offender  from  the  punishment  which  he  deserved  ;  still 
there  is  a  pleasant  meaning  in  the  fact  that  such  an  education  was  sup- 
posed to  be  incompatibie  with  the  grossest  forms  of  sin,  and  that  the 
term,  clergyman,  was  regarded  as  synonymous  with  the  words  learned 
and  good. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  atheists  are  more  frequently  found  in  Christian 
lands  than  in  any  other.  Where  the  true  religion  is  known,  the  despisers 
of  all  religion  are  the  most  numerous  Even  such  Pagan  philosophers 
as  discarded  the  popular  faith,  were  unwilling  to  injure  its  credit  with 
the  mass  of  men.  But  among  us  there  are  friends  of  universal  education 
-who  decry  the  pulpit,  though  it  is  a  great  educator  of  the  populace ; 
there  are  fervid  philanthropists  who  ridicule  the  missionary,  though  he 
carries  the  blessedness  of  learning  to  the  heathen  ;  and  the  founder  of 
one  of  the  most  splendid  colleges  in  our  land  has  inserted  the  condi- 
tion  in  his  will,  that  no  clergyman  shall  6tep  his  foot  on  the  college 
grounds.  When  we  hear  Franklin  speak  so  often  in  praise  of  finigality 
*  Sermon  or  1  Kings,  xiii.  33,  34. 


THE    INFLUENCE     OF    THE     PREACHER.  I9 

and  industry,  and  other  virtues  that  derive  their  chief  support  from  the 
Bible  ;  when  vre  read  his  question  to  an  infidel  associate,  "  If  men  are 
so  wicked  with  religion  what  would  they  be  without  it  ?"  and  his  asser- 
tion to  the  same  individual,  that  the  great  majority  of  men  "  need  the 
motives  of  religion  to  restrain  them  from  vice  ;"*  we  naturally  expect  to 
find  him  a  reverential  advocate  of  the  preacher's  oftice.  But  in  his  letter 
to  Whitefield,  he  says,  "  Now-a-days  we  have  scarce  a  httle  parson  that 
does  not  think  it  the  duty  of  every  man  within  his  reach  to  sit  under  his 
petty  ministrations,  and  that  whoever  neglects  them  ofiends  God.  I 
wish  to  such  more  humility ."f  And  we,  in  return,  wish  more  consistency 
to  our  great  men.  Why  eulogize  the  end  and  sneer  at  the  means  ? 
Why  praise  virtue  in  the  general  and  contemn  it  in  its  brightest  particu- 
lar ?  Our  manufacturers  say,  that  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  makes 
better  cotton-spinners  ;  our  landlords,  that  it  makes  better  tenants  ;  our 
physicians  for  the  insane,  that  it  hastens  the  recovery  of  the  diseased  in 
mind ;  our  friends  of  temperance  and  of  social  reform,  that  it  affords 
efficient  aid  in  every  good  Avork.  A  political  economist  may  easily  per- 
ceive, that  the  want  of  teachers  of  the  truth  in  Gomorrah  must  have 
diminished  the  value  of  houses  and  lands  in  that  doomed  city,  and  that 
the  kingdoms  of  ancient  times  would  have  been  less  unquiet  and  tran- 
sient, if  they  had  been  under  the  inffuence  of  a  well  read  and  an  instructed 
priesthood.  On  the  lowest  principle,  then,  of  a  calculating  patriotism, 
how  can  a  Jefferson  allow  himself  to  neglect,  st.J  more  to  deride  the 
pulpit,  to  which  his  own  country,  more  than  any  other,  owes  her  political 
salvation.  How  suicidal  the  policy  of  Lord  Chesterfield,  and  other  dev- 
otees of  an  elegant  literature,  who  delight  in  sneering  at  the  very  office 
that  creates  a  demand  for  all  of  enduring  value  in  their  writings,  and 
without  which  there  will  remain  but  little  of  healthy  politeness,  or  of 
sound  letters  in  Christendom.  As  we  read  of  an  eminent  teacher's  being 
accustomed  to  remark,  "  Give  me  the  religion  of  a  country,  and  I  Avill  tell 
you  all  the  rest ;"  so  we  may  add,  the  whole  character  of  a  peoj^le  de- 
pends, far  more  than  is  commonly  recognized,  upon  the  teachings  of  the 
pulpit ;  and  the  man  who  aims  to  undermine  rather  than  regulate  the 
inffuence  of  the  sacred  office,  is  not,  so  far  forth,  an  intelligent  friend  of 
the  State. 

The  influence  of  a  preacher  on  the  intellect,  the  taste,  the  business  and 
morals  of  a  community,  is  but  an  illustration  of  his  inffuence  on  the  i-ellgioits 
sharacter.  We  shall  not  be  suspected  of  implying,  what  is  never  true, 
that  he  transforms  the  heai*t  without  the  special  interposition  of  the  Holy 
Ghost;  and  yet  there  is  a  sense  in  which  a  dependent  apostle  may 
declare :  "  I  have  begotten  you  through  the  gospel."  It  is  not  one  soul 
only  that  he  benefits,  nor  two,  nor  twenty,  but  perhaps  a  hundred ;  and 

•  Franklin's  Worka,  Phfl.  Ed.,  vol  vi,  p.  24A.  f  lb,  pi  36L 


20  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

1  hundred  eternities  otherwise  spent  in  the  darkness  that  no  light  cheers, 
are  now  spent  in  the  paradise  of  God.  Of  the  hundred  immortals  thus 
transformed  by  the  means  of  a  single  preacher,  who  knows  but  some  one 
may  be  an  instrument  of  interminable  good  to  a  hundred  more — may  be 
a  Fuller,  or  a  Payson,  or  a  Harlan  Page,  or  a  Mrs.  Judson  ?  Is  it  not  a 
moderate  calculation,  that  a  hundred  faithful  disciples  wall  exert  an  influ- 
ence Avhich  God  will  bless  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  at  least  two  hundred 
of  their  fellow-men,  their  kindred  or  friends  for  whom  they  toil  and 
pray ;  each  one  on  an  average  bringing  two  additional  talents  into  the 
sacred  treasury  ?  And  these  two  hundred  Christians  may  impart,  as 
parents  do  impart  in  a  kind  of  legacy,  their  religious  character  to  their 
children ;  and  a  thousand  of  their  children's  children  may  labor,  each  one 
in  his  own  circle,  for  the  renovation  of  other  souls.  Each  one  in  his  own 
circle  of  friends,  and  here  are  a  thousand  diiferent  circles,  and  each  mem- 
ber of  each  of  these  circles  has  a  separate  band  of  his  own  associates,  and 
the  influence  thus  branches  out  into  a  new  sj^here,  dx\d  will  continue  to 
widen  and  amplify,  and  to  include  still  other  multitudes.  It  is  well  to 
reflect  minutely  on  the  manner  in  which  influence  is  propagated,  filling 
one  area  after  another,  transmitted  from  a  few  ancestors  to  a  niimerous 
posterity,  and  flowing  on  like  a  stream,  broader  and  deeper,  till  it 
becomes  a  mystery  how  such  great  eflects  can  result  from  a  cause  so 
limited.  Nor  should  we  confine  our  view  to  the  gradual  and  ceaseless 
propagation  of'the  influence  which  the  minister  may  have  exerted  during 
his  life.  We  should  also  consider  the  new  imj^ressions  which  are  often 
produced  by  his  printed  works  long  afl;er  his  death.  The  trains  of  moral 
cause  and  efiect  which  he  started  by  his  living  voice,  are  not  only  con- 
tinued for  ages,  but  his  published  discourses  are  setthig  original  trains 
in  motion;  and  as  the  author  of  written  sermons,  he  sometimes  gives  an 
impulse  to  more  minds  than  he  aflfected  by  his  spoken  Avords.  Many  a 
clergyman  never  dies.  If  his  name  were  forgotten,  he  would  still  be 
producing  eflects  of  which  he  is  not  recognized  as  the  cause;  but  some- 
times a  clergyman,  like  Chrysostom,  lives  and  preaches,  generation  after 
generation,  among  a  larger  community  of  readers,  than  he  ever  orally 
addressed ;  and  in  addition  to  the  good  that  flows  from  the  multitude 
who  were  benefited  by  his  life,  is  a  still  greater  good  that  is  constantly 
si^ringing  up  in  minds  conversant  with  his  posthumous  sei'mons.  He  is 
still  beginning  to  put  in  strain  systems  of  moral  influence  which  are 
entir-^ly  distinct  from  the  systems  originated  upon  the  minds  of  his 
contemporaries,  and  continued,  by  the  natural  laws  of  transmission  and 
expansion,  from  one  age  to  another  of  their  posterity. 

The  treatises  of  John  Howe  on  "Delighting  in  God,"  and  on  the 
"Blessedness  of  the  Righteous;"  of  President  Edwards  on  the  "History 
of  Redemption  ;"  of  George  Campbell,  on  "  Miracles ;"  of  John  Fos- 
ter, on  the  "Evils  of  Popular  Ignorance  ;"  of  Di*.  Chalmers,  on  the  "Evi- 
dences of  Christianity  "  Avere  originally  preached  as  sermons :  they  were 


THE     INFLUENCE     OP    THE     PREACriER.  21 

sermons  that  did  not  soon  grow  old.  At  the  last  day,  what  a  throng  of 
witnesses  will  there  be  to  the  effect  of  John  Newton's  ministrations.* 
We  are  now  feeling  this  effect  in  the  hymns  of  Cowper,  in  the  writings 
of  Buchanan,  who  owed  his  religious  character  to  the  instrumentality  of 
Newton — writings  which  are  said  to  have  first  awakened  the  missionary 
spirit  of  our  own  Judson;  in  the  works  of  Dr.  Scott,  another  monument 
of  Newton's  fidelity,  and  a  spiritual  guide  to  hundreds'  of  preachers  and 
thousands  of  laymen  ;  in  the  words  and  deeds  of  Wilberforce,  who 
ascribed  a  large  share  of  his  own  usefulness  to  the  example  and  counsels 
of  the  same  spiritual  father.  Edmund  Burke,  on  his  death-bed,  sent  an 
expression  of  his  thanks  to  Mr.  Wilberforce  for  writing  the  "  Practical 
Christianity,"  a  treatise  which  Burke  spent  the  last  two  days  of  his  life 
in  perusing,  and  from  which  he  confessed  himself  to  have  derived  much 
profit* — a  treatise  which  has  reclaimed  hundreds  of  educated  men  from 
irreligion,  but  which  would  probably  never  have  been  what  it  now  is, 
had  not  its  author  been  favored  with  Newton's  advice  aiid  sympathy. 
What  shall  we  predict  as  the  ultimate  result  of  Whitefield's  more  than 
eighteen  thousand  addresses  from  the  pulpit,  and  of  the  impulse  which  he 
gave  to  the  activity  of  the  whole  church,  friends  and  foes,  in  America 
and  Britain  ?  His  power  was  felt  by  Hume,  Bolingbroke,  Foote,  Ches- 
terfield, Garrick,  Rittenhouse,  Franklin,  Erskine  and  Edwards ;  by  the 
miners  and  colliers,  and  fishermen  of  England,  the  paupers  and  slaves, 
and  Indians  of  America.  "Had  Whitefield  never  been  at  Cambuslang, 
Buchanan,  humanly  speaking,  might  never  have  been  at  Malabar." 
When,  too,  will  cease  the  influence  of  Payson's  pulpit?  For  we  read 
that  during  his  ministry  of  twenty  years,  interrupted  by  frequent  sick- 
nesses, he  admitted  to  the  communion-table  more  than  seven  hundi'ed 
who  had  never  previously  separated  themselves  from  the  thoughtless 
multitude.  William  Jay  began  to  j^reach  the  gospel  before  he  was  six- 
teen years  old ;  he  delivei'ed  nearly  a  thousand  sermons  before  he  had 
passed  his  minority ;  for  more  than  fifty  years  he  was  active  in  the  pas- 
toral oflice  at  Bath,  and  was  honored  there  with  numerous  proofs  of  his 
usefulness ;  among  those  who  have  been  radically  improved  by  his  dis- 
courses, are  the  foimder  of  Spring  Hill  College,  the  martyred  missionary, 
Williams,  and  several  living  preachers  ;  his  practical  writings  have  been 
the  comfort  of  hundreds  of  families,  morning  and  evening,  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic ;  and  his  influence,  though  it  may  become  less  and  less 
apparent,  will  become,  in  fact,  more  and  more  powerful  through  all 
time.  If  the  Christian  scholar  would  meditate  often  on  this  diffusive 
nature  of  truth  and  goodness,  on  the  inherent  value  of  even  one  mind, 
in  its  mfluence  over  its  contemporaries,  and  still  more  over  succeeding 
generations,  an  influenc  e  which  is  inevitable,  resulting  from  our  sympa- 
thetic nature ;  if  he  would  follow  this  widening  train  of  moral  causes 
^hi-ough  time  to  the  judgment,  when  a  single  soul  shall  be  revealed  as 
*  See  Life  of  Wilberforce,  Amer.  ed.,  p.  183. 


9,2  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

the  spiritual  benefactor  of  millions,  he  would  then  easily  explain  the 
words  of  an  old  Enghsh  archbishop  and  keeper  of  the  seals  :*  "  I  have 
passed  through  many  places  of  honor  and  trust,  both  in  Church  and  State, 
more  than  any  of  my  order  in  England  for  seventy  years  before.  But 
were  I  assured  that  by  my  preaching  I  had  converted  but  one  soul  to 
God,  I  should  herein  take  more  comfort  than  in  all  the  honors  and  offices 
that  have  been  bestowed  upon  me." 

The  influence  of  a  preacher  may  be  illustrated  by  the  short  time  which 
he  demands  for  securing  an  immense  good.  In  a  single  discourse,  he 
may  put  in  operation  a  system  of  causes  which  will  result  in  the  moral 
renovation  of  thousands  who  never  heard  his  name.  On  a  certain  Sab- 
bath about  the  year  1642,  an  obscure  and  unpolished  clergyman  from  the 
country  supplied  the  pulpit  of  Edmund  Calamy,  the  noted  London  di- 
vine. When  the  congregation  were  ajji^rized  that  their  favorite  preacher 
was  not  to  address  them,  many  of  them  left  the  house.  There  was  a 
young  man,  a  stranger  in  the  metropolis,  who  had  come  up  to  hear  Mr. 
Calamy,  and  being  disappointed  in  his  expectation,  was  entreated  "  to 
go  and  hear  Mr.  Jackson,  a  man  of  prodigious  apphcation  as  a  scholar, 
and  of  considerable  celebrity  as  a  preacher."  But  the  young  man  was 
an  invaUd,  and  was  unwilling  to  walk  further.  He  had  been  for  five 
years  in  deep  despondency  of  mind ;  he  had  at  one  season  avoided  al- 
most all  intercourse  with  men  for  three  months ;  he  "  could  scarcely  be 
induced  to  speak,  and  Avhen  he  did  say  any  thing,  it  was  in  so  dis- 
ordered a  manner,  as  rendered  him  a  wonder  to  many."  The  discourse 
of  the  country  clergyman  was  from  the  words  :  Why  are  ye  so  feai'ful, 
O  ye  of  little  faith  ?  (Matt.,  viii.  26.)  It  was  a  healing  balm  to  this 
youthful  invalid.  It  was  a  prominent  means  of  relieving  him  from  his 
moral,  mental  and  thereby  of  his  corporeal  maladies.  He  began  a  Hfe 
of  new  Christian  activity  as  well  as  of  new  confidence  and  joy ;  he  ac- 
quired an  extensive  influence  both  in  church  and  State  ;  for  five  years  he 
held  the  office  of  Vice  Chancellor  in  Oxford  University,  and  for  nine 
years  the  office  next  to  this  in  literary  importance  ;  he  numbered  among 
his  pupils  John  Locke,  William  Penn,  Dr.  South,  Dr.  Whitby,  Sir  Chris- 
topher Wren,  and  Launcelot  Addison,  father  of  the  celebrated  Essayist ; 
he  published  during  his  life  seven  folio  volumes,  twenty-one  quartos, 
thirty  octavos,  and  is  still  revered  as  a  kind  of  prince  and  oracle  among 
divines.  It  was  John  Owen,  who  thus  ascribed  his  religious  health  and 
much  of  his  usefulness  to  a  single  sermon.  He  was  never  able  to  find 
out  the  residence  or  even  the  name  of  the  man,  to  whose  words  he  owed 
his  freedom  from  a  Avasting  melancholy.  It  seemed  as  if  a  spirit  from 
a  land  of  mysteries  had  touched  him,  and  str lightway  vanished  into 
heaver.  But  though  we  can  not  ascertain  who  was  the  instrument  of 
this  eventful  cure,  we  know  that  the  word  of  God  healeth  all  diseases 

*  John  "Williams. 


THE    INFLUENCE    OF    THE    PREACHER.  23 

of  the  mind,  and  a  single  application  of  it  may  revive  the  spiiit  of  him 
who  is  to  be  the  physician  of  many  souls. 

One  of  the  most  effective  discourses  noticed  by  modern  historians, 
was  preached  at  the  Kirk  of  Shotts  in  1630,  by  John  Livingston,  an  an- 
cestor of  the  well-known  family,  who  bear  that  surname  in  our  own  land. 
He  was  at  that  time  chaplain  to  the  Countess  of  Wigtoun,  was  Ucensed 
but  not  ordained  as  a  minister,  and  was  only  twenty-seven  years  of  age. 
His  discourse  is  thus  alluded  to  by  Rev.  Mr.  Fleming,  of  Cambuslang  : 
"I  can  speak  on  sure  ground,  that  near  five  hundred  had  at  that  time  a 
discernible  change  wrought  in  them,  of  whom  most  proved  to  be  lively 
Christians  afterwards.  It  was  the  sowing  of  a  seed  through  Clyddisdale, 
so  that  some  of  the  most  eminent  Christians  in  that  country  could  date 
either  theu'  conversion,  or  some  remarkable  confirmation  of  their  case 
from  that  day."  The  religious  mterest,  resulting  from  this  single  etifoit 
of  a  youthful  licentiate,  extended  throughout  the  west  of  Scotland,  and 
among  the  inhabitants  of  the  North  of  Ireland,  and  terminated  in  the 
moral  improvement  of  thousands  who,  but  foi-  the  sympathy  excited  by 
this  discourse,  might  have  remained  indifierent  to  the  claims  of  virtue. 

Similar  eflects  were  produced  by  a  sermon  of  President  Edwards, 
l^reached  July  8,  1741,  at  Enfield,  Connecticut.  It  gave  a  great  impulse 
to  the  powerful  religious  movemnt  which  began,  about  that  time,  to  en- 
gross the  attention  of  the  American  churches,  and  which  is  supposed  to 
have  resulted,  in  nearly  thu'ty  thousand  instances  of  spiritual  reformation. 
During  the  delivery  of  the  sermon  the  auditors  groaned  and  shrieked 
convulsively,  and  their  outcries  of  distress  drowned  the  preacher's  voice, 
and  forced  him  to  make  a  long  pause.  His  text  was.  Their  foot  shall 
sHde  in  due  time  (Deut.,  xxxii.  35)  ;  and  at  a  certain  instance  of  his  re- 
peating these  Avords,  some  of  the  audience  seized  fast  hold  of  the  pillars 
and  braces  of  the  iBceting-house,  they  felt  so  sensibly  that  their  feet  were 
sliding  at  the  very  moment  into  ruin.  A  large  number  of  the  most  in- 
fluential of  the  hearers  gave  themselves  no  rest,  till  they  had  planted 
their  feet  on  the  sure  ways  of  Sion.  That  discourse,  which  then  alarmed 
hundreds  of  the  citizens  of  Enfield  and  the  adjoining  towns,  has  been 
preached  again  and  again,  to  the  social  circle,  and  the  fireside  group,  in 
this  and  other  lands,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  new  monuments 
of  its  efiicacy  are  rising  up  every  year. 

Nor  is  it  only  by  a  single  disoourse  that  such  great  efiects  are  pro- 
duced ;  it  is  sometimes  by  a  single  sentence  in  that  discourse.  The  very 
first  clause  of  a  sermon  may  seize  the  attention  of  some  leading  mind, 
and  may  never  cease  its  transforming  efiicacy  until  that  mind  becomes  an 
efticient  advocate  for  God.  Some  plain  statement,  made  without  any 
anticipation  of  its  peculiar  consequences,  is  often  referred  to  by  a  grate- 
ful convert  as  the  point  on  which  his  destiny  was  suspended.  Many 
instances  ai'e  on  record  of  a  permanent  transformation,  wrought  by  the 
remembrance  of  a  word  Avith  its  accompanying  gesture  and  look.     "  O, 


24  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

my  hen.-ors,  the  wrath  to  come  !  the  wrath  to  come  !" — these  were  the 
abrupt  clauses  that  fell  from  the  lips  of  an  eminent  orator,  and  fell  in 
such  a  way  as  to  sink  like  lead  into  the  heart  of  one  youth,  who  could 
not  rest  until  he  had  become  qualified  for  a  useful  station  in  the  Cliriytian 
ministry.  "  God  only  is  great,"  were  the  words  of  Massilon,  and  all  his 
hearers  rose  and  reverently  bowed.  "  O  eternity  !  O  eternity !  O  eter- 
nity !"  were  the  closing  words  of  a  discourse  from  M.  Bridaine,  and  they 
seemed  to  concentrate  into  one  sudden  view  the  whole  subject  that 
had  been  discussed,  and  the  audience  were  melted  down,  and  not  a  few 
permanently  humbled. 

If  the  students  of  moral  history  were  as  watchful  as  the  students  of 
nature,  they  would  often  trace  the  influence  of  a  phrase  over  such  an 
extent  of  space  and  time,  that  it  would  excite  our  Avonder  and  be  gazed 
at  like  a  licsus  naturm.  As  we  find  the  remains  of  fishes  on  mountains 
and  deserts,  so  we  may  discover  the  effects  of  a  spoken  word  where  we 
would  almost  as  soon  have  looked  for  the  identical  breath  with  which  the 
word  was  uttered.  Botanists  have  admired  the  wise"  provision  of  nature 
for  the  dissemination  of  seeds.  The  embryo  plant  is  encircled  with  gos- 
samer and  swept  by  the  wind  over  streams  and  v\'astes,  and  comes  up  in 
a  strange  land.  And  so  a  pithy  remark  is  appended,  as  it  were,  to  a  tuft 
of  down,  and  brings  forth  its  fruit  far  away  from  where  it  was  first  ut- 
tered. There  was  a  native  of  Dartmouth,  England,  a  member  of  the 
trained  band  of  Charles  the  First,  who  was  present  at  the  beheading  of 
that  monarch,  had  some  acquaintance  with  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  subse- 
quently found  his  way  to  Massachusetts,  and  lived  first  in  the  merchants' 
serAdce  at  Marblehead  and  afterward  on  a  farm  in  Middleborough.  At 
the  age  of  fifteen  years,  while  yet  in  his  native  land,  he  heard  the  pious 
Flavel  preach  from  the  text,  "  If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  let  him  be  anathema  maranatha ;"  and  at  the  age  of  a  hundred 
years,  Avhile  sitting  in  his  field  at  Middleborough,  he  recalled  the  sermon 
that  he  had  heard  eighty-five  years  before,  and  the  scenes  that  ensued 
when  Flavel  dismissed  the  auditory.  He  vividly  remembered  the  solemn 
appearance  of  the  preacher  rising  to  pronounce  the  benediction,  then 
pausing,  and  at  length  exclaiming  with  a  piteous  tone,  "  How  shall  I  bless 
this  whole  assembly,  when  every  person  in  it  who  loveth  not  the  Lord 
Josus  Christ  is  anathema  maranatha."  This  sinner  of  a  hundred  years, 
became  at  length  alarmed  by  his  reminiscence,  and  particularly  by  the 
fact  that  no  minister  had  ever  blessed  him.  He  pondered  on  that  closing 
remark  of  Flavel;  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  century  of  his 
life,  gave  evidence  to  the  church  that  he  was  worthy  to  be  enroUed 
among  her  members.  He  began  to  address  pious  counsel  to  his  children 
and  adorned  his  profession  fifteen  years,  when  he  went  to  receive  the 
benediction  of  God.  His  sepulchre  remaineth  with  us,  and  his  dwelling- 
spot  is  remembered  to  this  day.  The  moral  of  his  epitaph  is,  that  a 
;hrase,  dropped  into  the  mind  of  a  lad  on  one  continent,  and  in  one  cen- 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  PREACHER.        25 

tury,  may  lie  buried  long  in  dust,  and  then  spring  up  and  bear  fruit  on 
another  continent,  and  in  another  century,  and  be  destined  to  perpetual 
remembrance.  Such  instances  remind  us  that  a  thousand  hallowed  asso- 
ciations cluster  around  the  preacher  ;  that  his  words  come  Avith  power, 
not  as  his  words,  but  those  of  God ;  that  they  borrow  efficacy  from  the 
house,  the  time,  the  whole  scene  of  their  utterance,  and  are  retained  in 
the  memory  long  after  they  soem  to  be  lost.  A  movement  of  the  arm  or 
eye  has  often  a  meaning  in  the  pulpit  which  it  has  nowhere  else  ;  for  it 
is  enveloped  there  with  new  means  of  suggestion,  and  is  witnessed  by 
men  of  excited,  quick-moving  sensibilities.  The  preacher  stands  like  one 
insulated  and  charged  with  the  electric  fluid ;  the  touch  is  now  startling, 
which  a  few  minutes  ago  was  like  the  touch  of  a  common  man.  Or,  if 
we  may  change  the  figure,  he  is  like  the  surgeon  operating  on  the  most 
delicate  tissues,  and  a  hair's  breadth  movement  of  the  knife  saves  or 
kills.  That  is  not  an  ofiice  for  the  indolent,  weak,  or  trifling,  in  which 
the  causes  are  for  a  moment  and  the  eflects  for  eternity  ;  the  causes  are 
a  short  phrase  condensing  a  world  of  import,  or  a  breath  of  air  making 
a  significant  interjection,  or  a  line  on  the  face  indicative  of  a  thousand 
hopes  or  fears ;  and  the  effects  are,  what  "  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear 
heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man." 

The  influence  of  a  preacher  is  illustrated  by  the  bad  effects  which  he 
may  produce  in  a  very  short  time.  The  evil  which  he  sometimes  does, 
sets  out  in  bold  relief  the  good  which  he  our/hi  to  do.  That  is  a  man 
of  power  who  may  do  mnch  hurt,  even  if  he  can  never  become  a  positive 
and  decided  benefactor.  The  occupant  of  the  pulpit  may  benumb  the 
intellect  which  he  ought  to  arouse  and  brighten.  He  may  darken  the 
conscience  that  he  ought  to  illuminate,  and  may  deprave  mstead  of 
purifying  the  tastes  and  affections.  As  the  soul  w^hich,  with  aid  from 
above,  he  might  have  allured  toward  heaven,  would  never  have  ceased 
to  gain  new  capacity  for  holiness  and  bliss,  so  the  soul  which  he  now 
indisposes  for  a  pious  life  will  be  perpetually  drinking  in  new  sin  and 
new  punishment.  The  sin  is  just  as  debasing  as  the  hoHness  would  have 
been  exalting,  and  the  punishment  is  as  refined,  and  spiritual  and  keen, 
as  would  have  been  the  reward.  Nor  does  this  soul  go  on  alone  to  its 
ruin.  Spirits  move  in  sympathy,  and  make  companions  for  their  gloom 
if  they  do  not  find  them.  The  man  whom  the  preacher  hardens  in  guilt 
imparts  a  like  hardening  influence  to  at  least  three  or  four  of  his  friends, 
perhaps  of  his  household  ;  and  these  will  not  shut  up  the  contagion 
within  their  own  bi-easts,  but  will  spread  it,  perhaps,  through  nine  or 
twelve  of  their  admirers  or  dependents ;  and  in  this  geometrical  ratio, 
the  progress  of  the  contamination  may  not  cease  in  this  world  till  the 
millennium,  nor  in  the  world  to  come  till  spirits  no  longer  assimilate  with 
each  other.  If  the  tide  of  virtuous  influence  flow  upward  from  genera- 
tion to  generation,  what  shall  be  the  breadth,  and  depth  and  bitterness 


26  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

of  that  river  of  death  that  flows  downward  .♦^  It  is  not  merely  from  the 
aggregate  of  the  preacher's  life :  it  is  also  from  one  sermon  alone,  or 
even  from  one  sentence,  that  a  hearer  may  start  in  his  course  of  despera- 
tion, and  go  on  diverging  further  and  further  from  the  Une  of  hope.  A 
single  unguarded  expression  has  gone  from  the  pulpit,  and  eased  a  con- 
science that  had  for  days  been  extorting  the  complaint,  "  O,  wretched 
man  that  I  am"  I  A  rough  remark  on  the  perdition  of  infants  has  been 
known  so  to  shock  a  hearer,  as  to  make  him  leave  the  house  of  God,  and 
never  listen  again  to  an  evangelical  ministry.  A  morose  appellative  on 
the  doctrine  of  eternal  punishment  was  referred  to  by  an  enemy  of  that 
doctrine,  as  the  first  thing  that  inflamed  his  mind  against  it,  and  induced 
him  to  become  a  minister  of  false  tidings,  proclaiming  peace  to  large 
assemblies  for  whom  there  was  no  peace,  said  the  Lord.  "  Though  the 
number  of  the  children  of  Israel  be  as  the  sand  of  the  sea,  a  remnant 
shall  be  saved  ;"  this  was  one  of  the  first  texts  from  which  Mr.  Murray 
discoursed  on  his  first  visit  to  Boston.  "  If  one  should  buy  a  rich  cloth, 
and  make  it  into  a  garment,  and  then  burn  the  garment,  but  save  the 
remnant,  what  must  be  thought  of  him ;"  this  was  one  of  his  first  sen- 
tences. Homely  and  clumsy  as  was  the  argument,  it  had  a  strange  and 
sad  efiect  upon  a  yomig  man  of  enterprise  who  heard  it ;  he  carried  it  to 
his  home  in  one  of  our  inland  towns,  and  made  it  the  means  of  awaken- 
mg  a  curiosity  and  a  prejudice,  that  terminated  in  the  defection  of  a  large 
neighborhood  from  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  From  that 
neighborhood  have  gone  several  lettered  men,  who  have  blended  the 
fascinations  of  learning  -with  the  ungainly  creed  of  their  childhood ;  and 
may  it  not  be  a  rational  fear,  that  many  congregations  will  be  seduced 
into  a  ruinous  neglect  of  religion  by  a  train  of  influences  that  started 
from  the  one  witless  illustration  of  John  Murray?  And  well  would  it 
be  if  all  the  evil  that  flows  from  the  pulpit  were  the  emanation  of  an 
unsanctified  ministry.  Does  not  much  of  it  come  from  the  imperfect 
addresses  of  even  idIous  divines  ;  fi-om  their  bad  utterance,  that  gives  an 
unkind  meaning  to  goodly  words ;  from  their  style  of  composition,  that 
makes  a  hearer  turn  away  the  richest  truth  coming  in  such  repulsive 
attire;  from  their  want  of  forethought  and  skill ;  from  an  undue  neglect 
of  prayer  and  study ;  from  clouded  views,  low  purposes,  little  faith, 
obtuse  feeling?  And,  moreover,  must  it  not  deepen  our  sense  of  the 
preacher's  critical  situation  to  reflect,  that  he  often  does  not  foresee  the 
results  of  his  language  ?  He  docs  good  without  knowing  it,  and  evil 
also.  A  sentence  that  hastily  escapes  him,  has  performed  its  work  as 
hastily,  and  has  wrought  a  mischief  which  a  century's  discoursing  will 
never  repair.  God  has  concealed  from  us  the  day  of  our  death,  so  that 
every  day  may  be  the  pivot  on  which  our  eternity  is  seen  to  depend. 
There  is  an  apparent  indefiniteness  and  obscurity  flung  over  the  works 
and  ways  of  Jehovah,  and  therefore  the  seriousness  which  might  other- 
wise be  confined  to  a  single  point,  is  now  diftused  through  a  whole  exist 


THE    INFLUENCE     OF    THE     PREACnEl^.  £7 

ence.  If  the  preacher  could  always  determine  the  moment  when  his 
auditory  would  be  most  impressible,  he  mioht  set  a  double  guard  upon 
that  moment.  If  he  knew  exactly  what  discourse  or  what  paragraph 
would  happen  to  seize  the  peculiar  attendon  of  an  inquirer  or  caviler,  a 
bright  child,  or  an  inquisitive  student,  he  miglit  lay  out  his  great  strength 
on  a  few  sentences,  and  feel  somewhat  Hecure.  He  can  indeed  foresee 
that  some  parts  of  his  ministration  will  require  more  skill  than  others ; 
but  he  will  often  find  a  surprising  efficacy  where  he  looked  for  nothing. 
A  discourse  of  Payson,  which  he  thought  little  of,  and  wi'ote  almost 
enth-ely  at  a  sitting,  was  one  of  the  most  eflective  that  he  ever  preached. 
"  1  could  not  but  wonder,"  he  says,  "  to  see  God  work  by  it."  So,  too, 
the  sentence  which  the  preacher  utters,  without  even  a  thought  of  its 
power,  excites  a  prejudice  or  foments  an  evil  passion,  fi-om  the  effects  of 
which  the  mind  will  never  be  restored.  The  word  fell  almost  unbidden 
from  the  pulpit,  and  it  was  perverted  to  the  eternal  sorrow  of  one  who 
listened  to  little  beside  that  word.  The  critical  and  momentous  character 
of  the  preacher's  work  is  therefore  spread  out  over  all  its  parts,  even  the 
most  minute.  He  sometimes  labors  on  his  arguments,  and  has  no  fear 
for  his  illustrations  ;  but  his  illustrations  are  misunderstood,  and  more 
than  undo  the  effect  of  his  reasoning.  He  neglects  to  prove  his  doc- 
trine, and  many,  from  that  accident,  infer  that  the  doctrine  is  false.  He 
fails  to  apply  it.  and  thereby  satisfies  some  with  a  dead  faith.  When  he 
raises  his  hand  to  enforce  a  saying,  he  is  like  the  man  of  old  who  drew  a 
bow  at  a  venture,  and  knew  not  whom  or  what  he  should  smite.  We 
have  read  of  navigators,  whose  hair  turned  from  black  to  gray  while 
they  were  steering  their  bark  through  a  dangerous  pass,  and  feeling  that 
a  movement  of  the  helm,  even  for  a  single  inch,  would  be  for  the  crew's 
life  or  death.  But  when  immortal  interests  are  suspended  upon  one 
felicitous  or  inapposite  word  from  the  pulpit,  can  we  be  surprised — how 
can  we  be  surprised — at  the  remarks  of  Martin  Luther:  "  I  am  now  an 
old  man,  and  have  been  a  long  time  employed  in  the  business  of  preach- 
ing ;  but  I  never  ascend  the  pulpit  without  trembling." 

Tlie  influence  of  a  preacher  may  be  still  further  illustrated  by  the  fact, 
that  it  becomes  the  greater  and  the  better,  as  he  becomes  the  more  able 
and  more  faithful.  If  a  sermon  be  grand  iii  its  theme,  and  good  in  its  in- 
fluence, then  the  more  carefully  the  theme  is  studied, -so  much  the  more  im- 
portant will  be  the  sermon ;  the  more  skillfully  the  preacher  adapts  his 
style  to  the  nature  of  man,  so  much  the  more  exuberant  is  the  fruit  he  may 
anticipate.  True,  he  is  only  an  instrument,  and  God  is  a  sovereign  and 
may  bless  the  feeblest  agency  rather  than  the  strongest.  God  may  do  so, 
but  commonly  docs  not.  If  he  require  means,  he  thereby  requires  the 
best  means.  If  he  approve  of  prc^aching,  then  he  gives  most  of  hi« 
approval  to  the  best,  most  real  pre  iching.  It  is  generally  his  sovereign 
purpose  to  honor  Avith  the  greatest  success  such  instruments  as  are,  ^ji 


28  IXTRODUCTORY     ESSAY. 

themselves,  most  wisely  fitted  to  secure  the  end  which  he  secures  by 
them.  He  rules  the  wind  and  the  tide  as  he  pleases ;  and  yet  the  most 
cunning  mariner  will  so  adjust  the  sails,  and  prow,  and  helm,  as  to 
receive  the  largest  share  of  the  blessings  coming  from  absolute  sover- 
eignty. The  man  who  is  wise  in  winning  souls  to  Christ  will  find  out 
what  are  the  laws  according  to  which  the  decrees  of  heaven  are  fulfilled 
among  hearers  of  the  word,  and  he  will  strive  to  shape  his  discourses  so 
as  to  meet  these  laws.  And  he  is  the  best  husbandman  in  the  moral 
vineyard,  who  studies  most  faithfully  the  nature  of  the  soil  and  the  qual- 
ities of  the  seed,  who  plants  and  waters  at  the  hour  and  in  the  w^ay 
which  the  soundest  discretion  advises,  and  moreover  is  sending  up  the 
devoutest  and  most  persevering  prayers  to  heaven,  whence  alone  cometh 
mcrease.  But  what  manner  of  man  miist  he  be  who  is  making  these 
intricate  observations,  and  toiling  for  a  perfect  conformity  to  the  laws 
of  God's  highest  workmanship !  What  agonizing  of  the  inner  spirit 
must  he  often  endure,  when  selecting  and  aiming  the  dart  which  may 
save  or  destroy  a  hearer  dear  to  him  as  an  own  son  !  If  a  Christian  is 
the  highest  style  of  man,  what  must  a  preacher  be  ?  If  an  undevout 
astronomer  is  mad,  what  shall  we  say  of  an  undevout  pastor  and  bishop  ? 
If  any  man  should  .be  one  of  various  learning  and  severe,  protracted 
study,  of  generous  impulses  and  painful  watchings,  of  intense  longing 
after  improvement,  and  of  daily  progress  in  mental  and  moral  culture, 
what  must  be  the  character  and  purposes  of  the  consecrated  man  who 
stands  between  the  great  God  and  a  hostile  congregation — who  knows 
that  at  every  openmg  of  his  mouth  he  may  so  aiFect  his  hearers  as  to 
make  them  gems  in  the  crown  of  his  rejoicing,  or  make  himself  respon- 
sible for  their  ruin  ?  The  homely  words  that  Philip  Henry  Avrote  on  the 
day  of  his  ordination  over  a  small  people,  eji:press  the  feelings  of  every 
true  preacher:  "I  did  this  day  receive  as  much  Jionor  and  work,  as  ever 
I  shall  be  able  to  know  what  to  do  with.  Lord  Jesus  !  proportion  sup 
plies  accordingly."  In  his  "  Dying  Thoughts,"  Richard  Baxter  afiirms : 
"  For  forty  years  I  have  no  reason  to  think  that  I  ever  labored  in  vain." 
He  had  toiled  in  season  and  out  of  season,  in  the  study,  and  in  the  con- 
ference of  the  learned.  During  his  life  he  published  a  hundred  and 
sixty-eight  volumes,  all  of  them  dis];)laying  acumen  and  an  amount  of 
erudition  that  surprises  us ;  yet,  in  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter, 
he  thus  avows  his  preference  for  the  preacher's  duties  above  those  of  the 
philosopher  even :  "  I  have  looked  over  Hutton,  Vives,  Erasmus,  Scali- 
ger,  Salmasius,  Casaubon,  and  many  other  critical  grammarians,  and  all 
Gruter's  critical  volumes,  I  have  read  almost  all  the  physics  and  meta- 
lohysics  I  could  hear  of  I  have  wasted  much, of  my  time  among  loads 
of  historians,  chronologers,  and  antiquaries.  I  despise  none  of  their 
learning;  all  truth  is  useful.  Mathematics,  which  I  have  least  of,  I  find 
a  pretty  manlike  sport.  But  if  I  have  no  other  knowledge  than  these, 
what  Avere  my  understanding  worth  ]^     What  a  dreaming  dotard  should 


THE     INFLUENCE     OF    THE     PREACHER.  29 

I  be  ?  I  have  higher  thoughts  of  the  schoolmen  than  Erasmus  and  our 
other  grammarians  had.  I  much  vahie  the  method  and  sobriety  of 
Aquinas,  the  subtlety  of  Occam,  the  plainness  of  Durandus,  the  solidity 
of  Arimiensis,  the  jDrofundity  of  Bradwardine,  the  excellent  acuteness  of 
many  of  their  followers ;  of  Aureolus,  Capreolus,  Bannes,  Alvarez,  Zumel, 
etc. ;  of  Mayro,  Lychetus,  Trombeta,  Faber,  Meurisse,  Rada,  etc. ;  of 
Ruiz,  Pennates,  Saurez,  Vasquez,  etc. ;  of  Hurtado,  of  Albertinus,  of 
Lud  a  Dola,  and  many  others.  But  how  loath  should  I  be  to  take  such 
sauce  for  my  food,  and  such  recreations  for  my  business.  The  jingling 
of  too  much  and  false  philosophy  among  them  often  drowns  the  noise  of 
Aaron's  bells.     I  feel  myself  much  better  in  UerherPs  temple?'' 

It  was  with  a  desire  of  contributing  somewhat  to  perpetuate  this  en- 
thusiasm of  Baxter  in  the  sacred  profession  that  the  writer  of  this  essay 
formed  a  plan,  many  years  ago,  of  publishing  in  a  connected  form  the 
most  noteworthy  sermons  of  the  most  exemplary  preachers.  The  tend- 
ency of  such  sermons  is  to  stimulate  and  strengthen  wise  men.  This 
plan,  however,  he  cheerfully  resigned  as  soon  as  he  learned  that  a  sim- 
ilar enterprise  had  been  commenced  by  the  author  of  a  premium  essay,* 
which  was  itself  a  guaranty  that  the  enterprise  would  be  prosecuted  with 
a  good  aim  and  a  sound  judgment.  That  author  has  already  paid  "  a 
debt  to  his  profession,"  and  has  piit  the  clerical  profession  under  a  debt 
to  him,  by  the  publication  of  two  massive  volumes,f  containing  many 
eminent  sermons  of  deceased  divines,  and  excellent  models  of  Christian 
eloquence.  To  those  inspiriting  volumes  the  present  work  is  a  fit  ap- 
pendage, and  it  needs  no  higher  praise.  This  volume  gives  us  an  en- 
livening view  of  ministers  who  are  now  on  earth,  as  the  previous  volumes 
refreshed  us  with  the  words  of  men  who  are  now  in  heaven.  It  affords 
a  cheering  proof  that  amid  all  the  mutations  of  style,  thei-e  is  one  spirit 
pervading  the  discourses  of  evangelical  divines  in  all  lands,  and  this  is 
the  spirit  which  has  permeated  them  in  all  ages.  The  honored  names 
of  many  whose  discourses  enrich  the  present  volume  convince  us  that 
some  of  the  criticisms  which  the  high  priests  of  letters  have  pronounced 
upon  modern  clergymen,  are  too  sweeping  and  indiscriminate.  "  Malig- 
nity itself,"  says  a^  Edinburg  Reviewer,  "  can  not  accuse  our  pulpits  and 
theoloinjical  presses  of  beguiling  us  by  the  witchcraft  of  genius.  They 
stand  clear  of  the  guilt  of  ministering  to  the  disordered  heart  the 
anodynes  of  wit  or  fancy.  Abstruse  and  profound  sophistries  are  not  in 
the  number  of  their  offenses.  It  is  mere  calumny  to  accuse  them  of 
lulling  the  conscience  to  repose  by  any  syren  songs  of  imagination.  If 
the  bolts  of  inspired  truth  are  diverted  from  their  aim,  it  is  no  longer  by 

*  "Primitive  Piety  Revived,  or  the  Aggressive  Power  of  the  Christian  Church.  A 
Premium  Essay."    From  the  Press  of  the  Congregational  Board  of  Pubhcation,  Boston. 

f  "History  and  Repository  of  Pulpit  Eloquence,  containing  the  Master-pieces"  of  do* 
ceased  divines,  in  all  ages  and  lands.     From  the  Press  of  M.  "W.  Dodd,  Now  Torlc 


30  INTRODUCTORY    ESSAY. 

'jTiticing  words  of  man's  wisdom.  Divinity  fills  ujd  her  weekly  hour  by 
the  grave  and  gentle  excitement  of  an  orthodox  discourse,  or  by  toiling 
through  her  narrow  round  of  systematic  dogmas,  or  by  creeping  along 
some  low  level  of  school-boy  morality,  or  by  addressing  the  initiated  in 
mythic  phraseology ;  but  she  has  ceased  to  employ  lips  such  as  those  of 
Chrysostom  and  Bourdaloue.  The  sanctity  of  sacred  things  is  lost  in 
the  familiar  routine  of  sacred  words.  Religion  has  acquired  a  technology, 
and  a  set  of  conventional  formulas,  torpifying  those  who  use  and  those 
who  hear  them."  In  the  present  age  there  are  many  preachers,  as  this 
volume  warrants  us  in  believing,  who  rise,  and  are  raising  others,  far 
above  the  standard  which  hostile  critics  have  imputed  to  us. 

A  standard  so  low  could  have  been  tolerated  in  times  gone  by,  less 
unwisely  than  it  can  be  endured  in  our  times.  It  can  be  allowed  in  other 
lands  with  less  peril  than  in  our  own  land.  With  us  the  high  character 
of  our  clei-gy  is  our  "  national  estabUshment."  Now,  and  here,  we  can 
not  maintain  the  authority  of  religious  truth,  unless  it  be  preached  hy- 
men to  whom  all  others  shall  have  reason  to  look  up.  The  sermons  that 
were  "  delivered  at  Golden  Grove  to  the  family  and  domestics  of  Lord 
Carberry,  or,  at  most,  to  a  few  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  that  secluded 
neighborhood,  and  to  as  many  of  the  peasantry  of  the  estate  as  could 
understand  English"*  should  be  surpassed  in  excellence  by  the  sermons 
delivered  before  a  thinking,  an  inquisitive,  a  reading,  a  free  people,  who 
have,  and  who  know  that  they  have,  much  of  the  civil  and  ecclesiastical 
power  in  their  own  hands,  and  who  require  of  their  preacher  more  acu 
men,  more  learnmg,  more  of  moral  excellence  than  has  been  demanded 
in  other  lands  and  times  and  churches.  Our  Sabbath-schools,  and  Bible- 
classes,  our  popular  commentaries,  our  cheap  books,  our  lyceums,  yea, 
and  even  our  railroads,  make  it  needful  for  the  minister  to  push  his  in- 
vestigations over  and  far  beyond  the  line  to  which  his  predecessors  ad- 
vanced, distant  as  that  line  may  be,  and  to  search  for  wisdom  among 
treasures  yet  hidden.  For  all  this  expense  of  energy,  his  pecuniary 
emolument  is  but  small ;  therefore  must  he  be  a  man  of  generous  phi- 
lanthropy. He  must  undertake  his  labor  for  the  love  of  it,  and  the  love 
of  its  good  results.  In  the  best  sense  of  the  term,  he  must  be  a  great 
man,  for  self-denial  in  the  service  of  mankind  is  true  greatness.  Let  him 
be  animated  in  his  high  calling  by  a  faith  that  the  All-wise  Mind  who 
instituted  the  clerical  office,  and  without  whose  interposing  influence 
the  efforts  of  the  wisest  men  are  "  foolishness,"  will  not  disown  the 
service  which  he  has  appointed,  nor  forget  the  instrument  which  he  has 
devised,  but  wiU  so  regulate  the  influences  of  the  world  as  to  make  his 
earnest  ministers  speak  long  after  they  are  dead. 

*  See  Heber's  Life  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  pp.  189,  190. 

Andoveh  Theological  Sesonaby  May  6j  186T. 


C^e   iuman   f  jtlpit. 


( A.JkcLtl 


DISCOURSE    I. 

FRED.   AUa.   aOT.  THOLUCK,   D.D. 

The  University  of  Halle  was  founded  in  1694,  and  has  embraced,  since  1816, 
that  of  Wittenberg  which  was  merged  into  it  with  its  stipends.  Formerly 
each  professor  lectured  in  his  own  house;  but  in  1834  the  king  built  an  im- 
posing edifice  for  that  purpose  in  the  new  part  of  the  city.  A  large  Ubrary,  va- 
rious museums,  an  anatomical  theater,  chemical  laboratory,  botanical  garden,  and 
observatory,  complete  the  hterary  apparatus.  Some  of  the  lectures  are  still  deliv- 
ered in  Latin.  The  theological  department  is  the  most  prominent,  and  is  closely 
interwoven  with  the  history  of  German  Protestantism.  It  numbers  more  ordinary 
theological  professorsliips,  and  theological  students,  than  any  other  University.  Ir 
the  winter  of  1854  to  '55  the  whole  number  of  students  was  six  hundred  and  sixty, 
of  whom  three  hundred  and  seventy-eight  were  theologians  During  the  former 
half  of  the  last  century  Halle  was  the  principal  seat  of  the  pietism  of  Spener  and 
Franke ;  but  from  the  time  of  Semler,  the  father  of  G-erman  iSTeology,  it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  Rationalism,  as  represented  by  the  Celebrated  Hebrew  scholar,  Gresen- 
ius,  and  the  didactic  divine  Wegstheider ;  from  which  it  is  now,  however,  most 
happily  retrieved.  And  it  is  here,  in  tliis  venerable  University,  that  Professor  Tho- 
luck  has  lectured  for  the  last  forty  years,  and  won  for  himself  a  lofty  distinction. 

Dr.  Frederic  Augustus  Gottreu  Tholuck,  was  born  at  Breslau,  the  capital  of  Si- 
lesia, on  the  30th  of  March,  1799  ;  so  that  he  is  now  a  little  short  of  sixty  years  of 
age.  Like  the  great  majority  of  distinguished  scholars,  he  is  of  poor  and  humble 
descent.  He  labored  for  some  time  as  a  jeweler,  in  Silesia,  an  occupation  which 
his  father  intended  he  should  follow.  But  some  benevolent  friends  furnished  him 
the  means  to  satisfy  his  noble  ambition  and  ardent  thirst  for  knowledge,  in  the  gym- 
nasium of  his  native  city,  and  subsequently  in  the  University  of  BerUn.  He 
studied  day  and  night  to  such  an  excess  that  he  undermined  his  health,  and  has  had 
ever  since  to  suffer  the  bitter  consequences.  He  had  naturally  a  strong  inclination 
to  skepticism  and  pantheism.  It  is  even  reported  that  in  a  sophomorical  ccUege 
speech,  he  maintained  in  a  public  thesis  the  superiority  of  Mohammedanism  to 
Christianity.  But  the  experience  of  sin  and  grace  in  his  heart,  the  intercourse  with 
Neandor  and  other  pious  men,  and  the  st'idy  of  the  Scriptures  saved  him  from  the 
whirljyool  of  infidelity.  He  was  awak-aed  in  his  twentieth  year  as  a  student  in  Ber- 
•lin,  cotemporaneously  Avith  his  friends,  Julius  Miiller,  Rothe,  and  Olshauson,  who 
became  subsequently  distinguished  divines.  He  gives,  himself,  a  spirited  and  inter- 
esting account  of  the  internal  conflicts  through  which  he  passed,  in  his  youthful 
work,  "  Sin  and  the  Redeemer"  (first  published  in  1825),  which  in  its  various  edi- 
tions has  done  much  good  among  the  students. 

3 


34  FRED.    AUG.    GOT.    THOLUGK. 

The  conversion  of  Tholuck  determined  his  call  to  the  science  of  theology ;  and 
immediately  after  completir  g  his  three  years'  course  at  the  University  of  Berlin,  he 
became  one  of  the  private  teachers,  succeeding  the  celebrated  De  Wette,  with  the 
title  of  Professor  Extraordinarius.  At  the  time  of  assuming  this  elevated  chair 
(1819),  he  was  but  twenty  years  of  age.  Here  he  devoted  himself,  at  first,  vnth 
special  zeal  to  the  study  of  oriental  languages  and  hterature,  and  wrote,  Avhen  quite  a 
youth,  from  Arabic,  Persic,  and  Tm-kish  manuscripts,  a  learned  volume,  De  Surffismo 
Persarum.,  or  the  mystic  theosophy  of  the  Persians.  His  mental  precosity  was 
remarkable.  He  was  but  twenty-two  years  old,  when  he  published  his  "Hints 
for  the  Study  of  the  Old  Testament,"  and  but  twenty-three  when  he  wrote  his 
"  Treatise  on  the  Nature  and  Moral  Influence  of  Heathenism ;"  an  article  which 
Gesenius  pronounced  the  ablest  which  he  had  ever  seen  on  the  subject.  He  was 
but  twenty-five  years  of  age,  when  he  published  his  "  Commentary  on  the  Rom- 
ans ;"  which  has  passed  through  several  editions  in  G-ermany,  and  has  been  trans- 
lated into  English,  for  the  "  Edinburg  Biblical  Cabinet."  De  Wette,  though  far 
from  evangelical  in  his  sentiments,  pronounced  this  Commentary  superior  to  any 
that  had  preceded  it  on  the  same  Epistle.  Besides  these  works.  Professor  Tholuck 
has  since  published  numerous  others;  some  of  which  are  his  "  Practical  Comment- 
a'ies  on  the  Psalms,"  "John's  Gospel,"  and  the  "Epistle  to  the  Hebrews."  He 
has  also,  from  the  first,  written  very  largely  for  the  leading  religious  periodical 
literature  of  Germany.  In  1839,  he  was  favorably  introduced  to  American  scholars, 
by  a  sketch  of  his  hfe,  and  several  sermons,  in  the  "  Selections  from  German  Litera- 
ture," by  Professors  B.  B.  Edwards,  and  Edwards  A.  Park. 

Dr.  Knapp,  Professor  Ordinarius  of  Theology  at  Halle,  ha%nng  died  in  1825,  Tho- 
luck was  appointed  in  1826,  when  but  twenty-seven  years  of  age,  the  successor  of 
that  distinguished  theologian.  His  appointment  was  violently  opposed  by  the  Ra- 
tionalists, at  that  time  decidedly  the  most  numerous  as  well  as  the  strongest  party 
at  that  seat  of  learning.  He  was  scouted,  hated,  and  ridiculed  as  a  pietist,  mystic, 
fanatic,  radical,  etc.  But  he  persevered,  and  God  has  most  richly  blessed  his  labors. 
He  has  remained  in  his  post  ever  since,  with  tlie  exception  of  a  short  residence  at 
Rome,  in  the  capacity  of  a  chaplain  of  the  Prussian  embassy ;  and  mainly  through 
his  influence,  a  revolution  has  been  wrought  in  Halle,  at  least  as  far  as  theology  is 
concerned.  Rationalism  has  entirely  disappeared  from  the  theological  faculty,  and 
there  is  not  one  among  its  present  ordinary  professors  (Tholuck,  Miiller,  Moll,  Hup- 
feld,  Jacobi),  who  may  not  be  regarded  as  orthodox  in  essential  points,  and  evan- 
gelical in  sentiment. 

In  personal  appearance,  Dr.  Tholuck  is  said  to  be  almost  as  modest  and  unpre- 
possessing, although  not  so  original  and  startling,  as  the  late  Dr.  Neander.  He  has 
a  delicate  frame,  is  of  middle  size,  strongly  bent  forward,  meager  and  emaciate<l, 
extremely  nervous  and  irritable,  and  at  times  almost  blind  in  consequence  of  ex- 
cessive study.  Hence  he  needs  always  +he  assistance  of  an  amanuensis  in  reading 
and  writing.  But  the  format  on  of  his  noble  forehead,  and  the  expression  of  his 
face  are  highly  intellectual  and  spiritual,  and  his  voice  is  deep  and  solemn.  He 
has  never  had  any  children.  His  first  wife  died  of  consumption  soon  after  their 
marriage.  His  second  wife,  now  living,  is  the  daughter  of  Baron  von  Geramingen, 
an  esteemed  nobleman  of  Stuttgart  (originally  of  Muhlhausen  in  Baden).  One 
of  the  most  striking  and  lovely  traits  of  his  character  is  his  warm  attachment  to 
students.  He  loves  them  like  a  father.  He  can  not  live  without  them.  He  rot 
only  invites  them  freely  to  his  house  and  table,  but  is  almost  invariably  surrounded 


FRED.    AUG.    GOT.    TIIOLUCK.  $5 

by  two  or  three  of  them  on  the  promenades  which  he  is  obliged  to  take  for  the 
benefit  of  his  health,  twice  a  day — before  dinner  and  supper — in  spite  of  rain  and 
mud  in  muddy  Halle.  His  free  conversations  in  his  peripatetic  style  are  often  more 
interesting  and  suggestive  than  his  lectures.  His  object  is  not  to  make  disciples 
and  convert  them  to  a  particular  system — for  he  himself  can  hardly  be  said  to  have 
u  system — but  to  rouse  their  slumbering  faculties,  and  to  put  them  on  the  track  of 
independent  research.  He  instructs  by  his  extensive  information,  entertains  by  his 
wit,  wins  by  his  affections,  and  edifies  by  his  piety.  Not  unfrequently  he  exer- 
cises the  students  by  odd  and  startling  questions  on  remote  and  curious  topics, 
in  German,  French,  EngHsh,  Latin,  Greek,  Hebrew,  or  any  other  language  wliich 
they  may  understand.* 

Dr.  Tholuck  has  the  reputation  of  an  admirable  teacher  and  lecturer,  fresh,  inter- 
esting, and  instructive,  and  free  from  that  tiresome  pedantry  and  endless  "  Grund- 
hchkeit,"  which  characterize  so  many  German  scholars.  He  uses  notes,  and 
frequently  dictates,  but  branches  out  into  explanatory  remarks  and  happy  illustra- 
tions from  all  departments  of  knowledge  and  experience.  He  is  also  one  of  the 
most  elo([uent  pulpit  orators  of  Germany.  He  preaches  every  other  week  to  the 
members  of  the  University  of  Halle,  and  occasionally  as  guest  on  his  vacation  trips. 
His  sickly,  but  spiritual  and  solemn  appearance,  the  earnestness  of  his  manner,  the 
lightning  flashes  of  his  genius,  his  striking  rhetorical  transitions,  and  his  deep  relig- 
ious experience,  impart  to  his  sermons,  of  which  several  volumes  have  been  pub- 
ished,  a  high  dgreee  of  impressiveness.  The  chief  peculiarities  of  his  discourses, 
are,  a  remarkable  elevation  and  richness  of  evangelical  sentiment ;  an  absence 
of  all  display  c  f  learning,  of  abstruse  thought,  and  long  continued  argument  (alto- 
gether common  to  the  Germans) ;  a  liveliness  and  exuberance  of  fancy ;  vigor, 
eprightliness  and  boldness  of  expression;  and  a  peculiar  fervor,  and  tenderness,  and 
cliildhke  simphcity,  which  warm  and  attract  every  pious  heart.  His  sermons  are 
generally  written,  but  not  read ;  trusting  to  extemporaneous  impulse,  beyond  what 
he  is  able  to  retain  by  their  careful  perusal  previous  to  delivery.  His  pulpit  ad- 
dress is  said  to  be  animated  but  not  boisterous ;  neat,  but  not  fastidious. 

Apphcation  was  made  to  Professor  Tholuck  to  indicate  his  pleasure  in  regard  to 
a  discourse  for  this  work.  He  stated,  in  reply,  that  it  was  difficult  so  far  to  ob- 
jectify one's  seF,  as  to  select  wisely  from  his  own  productions ;  but  nevertheless, 
made  his  specification  with  sufficient  minuteness ;  which  of  course,  we  have  been 
careful  to  regard.  It  is  translated  from  Vol.  iv.,  of  his  Discourses,  2d  edition,  Halle, 
1847 ;  and  is  the  first  of  a  series  entitled  "  Biblische  Gemalde,"  etc. ;  or  "  Bibhcal 
Pictures"  (representations),  drawn  from  Passion  and  Easter  week.  The  theme  is 
fresh  and  original,  and  the  discourse  contains  some  fine  thoughts.  Toward  the  close 
especially,  the  preacher  waxes  warm,  and  becomes  truly  eloquent.  Professor  Tho- 
luck was  also  kind  enough,  at  our  request,  to  refer  to  a  likeness  taken  when  in  his 
prime,  which  has  been  forwarded  firom  Berlin,  and  from  wliich  the  accompanying 
portrait  is  engraved. 

*  For  many  of  these  particuiars,  we  are  indebted  to  the  Rev.  Philip  Schaff,  D.D.,  to 
whose  published  letters  on  several  of  the  German  divines,  especial  obligations,  in  the  prep* 
aracon  of  these  sketches,  are  here  acknowledged. 


36  FRED.    AUG.    GOT.    THOLUCK. 

CHRIST  THE  TOUCHSTONE  OF  HUMAN  HEARTS. 

Those  of  ns  who  have  had  much  acquaintance  with  Christians,  especially 
with  those  of  the  olden  time,  will  have  observed  how  customary  it  was 
for  them,  to  confirm  reraai-kable  experiences  of  the  spiritual  life,  M'ith  the 
saying,  "  Then  was  again  fulfilled  what  the  Scripture  saith."  Such,  too, 
was  the  habit  of  the  apostles,  and  in  just  this  sense  did  they  often  refer 
to  the  woi'ds  of  the  Old  Testament.  Herein  is  evinced  a  deep  con- 
viction of  the  world-wide  comprehensiveness  of  the  truth  of  God's  word. 
Of  this  broad  character  is  whatever  stands  on  record,  respecting  the 
doings  of  man,  or  the  ways  of  God,  more  particularly  during  the  period 
of  our  Lord's  manifestation  on  earth ;  so  that  along  the  course  of  his- 
tory, are  we  prompted  ever  and  anon  to  exclaim,  "  There  has  the  Scripture 
been  fulfilled."  With  one  such  expression  will  our  meditations  this  day 
be  occupied — with  a  Scripture  saying,  which  first  proved  true  in  the 
history  of  Christ,  and  has  again  been  verified  in  all  subsequent  times.  I 
refer  to  the  prophetic  exclamation  of  the  aged  Simeon,  when,  in  the  days 
of  legal  purification,  the  parents  brought  the  child  Jesus  for  the  first  time 
into  the  temple.  It  is  found  in  Luke,  ii.  34,  35.  "And  Simeon  blessed 
them,  and  said  unto  Mary  his  mother,  Behold,  this  child  is  set  for  the 
fall  and  rising  again  of  many  in  Israel;  and  for  a  sign  which  shall  be 
spoken  against.  Yea,  a  sword  shall  pierce  through  thine  own  soul  also,  that 
the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  may  be  revealed." 

Let  us  first  explain  the  whole  passage,  and  then  direct  your  attention 
paiticularly  to  its  last  clause.  I  know  not  whether  we  can  imagine  a 
more  solemn  scene  bearing  the  impress  of  substantial  truth,  than  that  into 
w^hich  these  words  of  the  Evangelist  translate  us.  The  bare  thought  of 
that  little  company,  which,  as  we  ai*e  told,  had  gathered  about  the  chUd 
Jesus,  is  enough  to  move  every  one  deeply.  It  is  said  that  those  had  as- 
sembled there,  who  were  waiting  for  the  consolation  of  Israel.  These,  of 
course,  Avere  but  a  small  portion  of  the  great  multitude  then  in  Jei'usalem 
— a  select  few,  in  whose  hearts  there  lay  this  one  desire, — "that  the  De- 
liverer would  come  out  of  Zion,  and  take  away  ungodliness  from  us." 
There  appears  not  to  have  been  many,  and  these,  perhaps,  were  aged 
people.  Simeon  and  Hannah,  at  least,  were  far  advanced  in  years.  A 
touching  thought  is  it,  also,  that  they  often  found  themselves  collected 
precisely  here  in  the  temple,  in  order  to  pi'ay  in  company.  Besides,  to 
Simeon  was  it  expressly  promised,  that  he  should  not  die  before  he  had 
seen  the  salvation  of  the  Lord.  And  now  the  long-desired  divine  child 
appi'oaches,  borne  upon  the  arm  of  its  mother.  But  how  shall  they  rec- 
ognize it  ?  It  is  mdeed  a  holy  thipg,  but  no  glory  surrounds  its  head. 
It  is  a  king  without  a  diadem.  The  grace  of  God  nevertheless  accom- 
plishes the  task.  To  Simeon  is  the  thing  revealed.  Under  the  impulse 
of  the  divine  Spirit,  he  now  advances,  and  significantly  addresses  himself 


CHRIST   THE   TOUCHSTONE   OF   HUMAN   HEARTS.  g7 

not  to  the  father,  but  to  the  mother.  It  is  no  sweet,  flattering  speech, 
no  light  laughing  dream  of  victory,  which  he  i:)ronounces.  Simeon  calls 
the  babe  a  rock ;  but  a  rock  whereon  a  part  of  Israel  would  be  broken. 
His  prophetic  eye  also  discerns  the  sword,  Avhich  should  ere  long 
plierce  the  mother's  aching  heart,  in  "  order  that  the  thoughts  of  many 
hearts  should  he  revealed^  With  these  words,  which  refer  particu- 
larly to  that  time  when  the  sword  actually  pierced  the  mother's  heart, 
the  prophetic  speech  concludes.  We  place  them  at  the  foundation  of 
our  now  commencing  series  of  discourses,  and  derive  from  them  this 
doctrine : 

The  manifestatio]!^  of  Christ  is  the  touchstone  of  human  hearts, 
through  which  is  first  revealed  avhat  is  in  evert  man. 

Let  US  consider  this  subject,  first,  as  it  appears  in  general,  and  then 
more  particularly  in  the  history  of  our  Lord's  passion. 

The  manifestation  of  Christ  is  the  touchstone  of  human  hearts,  by 
which  is  first  revealed  what  is  in  every  man.  There  are  some,  but  not 
many,  on  whom  is  conferred  the  power  readily  to  detect  what  is  in  men. 
Almost  every  individual  knows  Avhat  is  in  himself.  But  what  do  we 
mean  when  we  say  there  is  something  in  a  man  ?  This  expression  strikes 
deeper  than  some  may  imagine.  Rarely  is  it  used  merely  in  reference  to 
the  talents  or  gifts  which  a  man  may  j^ossess.  It  rather  pertains  to  the 
manner  in  which  he  employs  these  gifts.  We  understand  by  it,  not  so 
much  what  a  man  has,  as  what  he  is.  The  disposition,  the  will,  is  in- 
tended. And  this  is  just  what  the  Scripture  means,  when  it  says  that 
'the  hearts  of  men  were  revealed  through  Christ.'  For,  according  to  the 
saying  of  our  Lord,  it  is  out  of  the  heart  that  evil  thoughts  proceed,  and 
of  the  thoughts  and  ways  of  the  heart  is  it  affirmed  that  it  is  evil  from  "its 
youth  up."  The  heart  is  the  seat  of  aff'ection.  The  worth  of  a  man  is  de- 
termined by  what  he  loves.  We  love,  indeed,  only  that  Avith  which  we 
have  some  affinity — in  which  we  find  ourselves  agam.  That  which  you 
love  most  determines  your  worth.  The  incomprehensible  good,  which  is 
above  all  other  good,  because  it  is  the  foundation  and  source  of  all  other 
good,  even  God,  he  is  above  all  things  worthy  of  our  love.  So  we  con- 
fess, with  united  voice.  And  who  does  not  confess  it  ?  Now,  can  any 
one  speak  hesitatingly  on  this  subject,  and  argue  thus :  "  Thou  lovest  him, 
and  thou  lovest  him  not  ?  Is  not  our  love  for  him  as  impalpable  and 
hidden  as  he  is  himself?  Is  it  not  tlie  mystery  which  every  soul  per- 
forms in  its  inmost  depths,  as  within  closed  doors  ?" 

My  friends,  I  will  not  now  stop  to  show  that  although  the  flame  of  love 
to  God  may  glow  in  the  heart,  deeply  concealed,  yet  its  warmth  must 
manifest  itself  in  works.  But  this  only  I  will  ask,  can  God  still  be  called 
a  hidden,  unseen  object  of  love,  after  that  Christ  has  come  into  the 
Avorld  ?  John  says,  "  Whosoever  loveth  him  that  begat,  loveth  him  also 
that  is  begotten  of  him. — No  one  has  seen  God  at  any  time. — If  we  love 
one  another,  God  dwclleth  in  us."     There  you  perceive  the  whole  mat- 


gS  FRED.    AUG.    GOT.    THOLUCK. 

ter.  Although  we  may  a  thousand  times  assure  ourselves  of  a  love  to 
the  unseen  God,  so  long  as  we  have  not  a  heart  for  those  whom  he  has 
begotten  again  through  Christ,  and  has  made  to  reflect  his  grace  and 
truth,  there  is  no  true  love  in  us — all  our  professions  are  empty  words. 
My  brethren,  you  would  cry  out  against  the  man  who  should  desert  the 
brother  in  whose  veins  there  flowed  the  same  ancestral  blood  as  in  his 
own.  We  call  such  a  person  a  monster,  to  whom  there  is  nothing  sacred 
in  the  name  or  in  the  memory  oi  father.  And  can  we  in  truth  love  our 
Father  in  heaven,  and  at  the  same  time  withhold  our  aflections  from  that 
brother,  in  whom  reigns  the  same  spirit  of  grace  and  truth  through 
which  we  have  been  begotten  anew  ? 

But  I  go  yet  further,  and  say,  that  our  love  for  a  person  who  may 
manifest  only  a  livelier  religious  striving — a  moving  of  the  heart  toward 
God — is  also  a  touchstone  by  which  what  is  in  us  is  revealed.  For  certain 
it  is,  that  all  contemplation  of,  and  longing  after  God  among  men,  finds 
its  perfection  only  in  Christ.  If  this  be  so,  can  we  regard  the  yearnings 
of  any  human  heart  which  thirsts  after  light  and  life  from  God,  in  any 
other  aspect  than  as  standing  in  connection  with  Christ  ?  "  Whosoever 
is  of  God,  he  hears  God's  voice,"  says  our  Lord ;  and  then  explains  the 
assertion  by  afiirming  that  no  one  finds  God,  save  he  in  whom  God's 
Spirit  is  already  operating ;  and  no  one  can  come  to  the  Son,  save  he 
who  is  drawn  of  the  Father.  There  stands  the  aged  John  m  his  eight- 
ieth year,  and  exclaims  with  all  the  fire  of  his  youthful  ardor:  "And  Ave 
beheld  his  glory — the  glory  as  of  the  only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full 
of  grace  and  truth."  And  agam,  in  his  first  epistle  :  "  For  the  Life  was 
manifested,  and  we  have  seen  it,  and  bear  witness,  and  show  unto  you 
that  eternal  Life  which  was  with  the  Father,  and  which  was  manifested 
unto  us."  If  it  be  so  with  Christ — if  Christ  is  the  manifested  life  of 
God — if  he  is  the  visible  Son  of  the  invisible  Father,  why  may  I  not  say, 
that  in  the  love  which  we  aU  cherish  toward  the  Son,  one  may  truly 
detect  whether  we  are  sincere  in  our  professions  of  love  to  the  Father. 
Yea,  indeed,  ever  since  he  has  come  hito  the  world,  who  once  could  say  : 
"  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  lowly  of  heart ;"  and  at  another  time  dared 
to  utter  that  which  never  yet  had  passed  the  hps  of  mortal :  "  He  that 
seeth  me  hath  seen  the  Father  also  ;" — ever  since  then  do  we  testify, 
that  the  only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth,  has  been 
set  before  us  as  a  touchstone,  which  is  to  indicate  what  there  may  be  in 
our  love  to  God,  and  what  there  may  be  in  ourselves. 

We  have  learned  from  Simeon  a  word  of  prophecy  that  conveys  this 
thought.  Let  us  receive  the  same  from  the  very  mouth  of  him  who  was 
the  lowliest  among  the  children  of  men.  That  is  a  remarkable  utter- 
ance to  which  I  now  refer  you.  When  its  meaning  for  the  first  time 
dawned  upon  me — when,  for  the  first  time  my  soul  clearly  apprehended 
its  import — with  what  wonderful  power  did  it  seize  me  !  How  was  I 
startled  as  my  glance  penetrated  to  the  true  source  of  all  love  to  Christ, 


CHRIST   THE   TOUCHSTONE   OF   HUMAN   HEARTS.  gW 

and  of  all  alienation  from  him !  And  I  here  speak  to  your  own  expe- 
rience. We  read  in  John :  "  And  the  Father  himself,  which  hath  sent 
me,  hath  borne  witness  of  me.  Ye  have  neither  heard  his  voice  at  any 
time,  nor  seen  his  shape.  And  ye  have  not  his  word  abiding  in  you ;  for 
whom  he  hath  sent,  him  ye  believe  not.  I  receive  not  honor  from  men. 
But  I  know  you,  that  ye  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you." 

The  thoughts  here  are  strung  together  in  a  loose  connection ;  and  it 
is  possible  that  their  real  drift  may  have  escaped  many  of  you.  What 
the  Lord  charged  upon  the  Jews  is  this :  they  loved  him  not,  because 
they  had  not  the  love  of  God  in  themselves.  He  asserts  that  to  love 
God  truly — to  carry  his  word  in  our  hearts,  and  yet  not  to  feel  drawn 
toward  him,  was  an  utter  impossibility.  Such  is  the  doctrine  plainly 
taught  us  by  him,  in  whom  we  reverence  the  archetype  of  all  humility. 
Besides,  these  assertions  stand  not  isolated.  The  same  truth  rings  out 
in  other  statements  :  "  If  God  were  your  Father,  ye  would  love  me ;  for 
I  proceeded  forth  and  came  from  God."  "  Ye  neither  know  me  nor  my 
Father.     If  ye  had  known  me,  ye  should  have  known  my  Father  also." 

And  had  there  not  been  in  Christ  this  perfect  inter-penetration  of  the 
divine  and  the  human — had  he  not  been  the  manifestation  of  God  in  the 
lie&h — how  could  we  reconcile  with  his  humility  the  fact,  that  he  exacted 
this  degree  of  love  :  "  Whosoever  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than  me, 
is  not  worthy  of  me."  What  mortal  has  ever  asked  to  be  so  loved  ? 
Accordingly  then,  supported  not  only  by  the  word  of  a  Simeon,  but 
also  by  Christ's  oton  words,  I  dare  affirm,  with  the  fullest  emphasis,  that 
the  degree  in  which  the  manifestation  of  Christ  prevails  over,  attracts, 
and  appropriates  a  man,  measures  precisely  the  degree  of  his  love  to 
God. 

But  perhaps  a  distinction  vnW  be  insisted  upon  here,  on  the  ground 
that  we  have  him  no  more  before  our  eyes.  But  let  me  ask,  is  not  the 
declaration,  "  We  have  seen  his  glory,"  ever  new  and  fresh  upon  earth  ? 
Has  it  grown  silent  since  the  last  eye-witness  of  Jesus  was  laid  in  his 
grave  ?  It  might  be  so  if,  with  our  bodily  eyes  alone,  we  had  been 
able  to  behold  his  glory.  But  with  these  eyes  Caiaphas  also  beheld 
him.  And  Christ  has  affirmed  :  "  They  have  eyes  and  see  not."  Only 
with  the  eyes  of  the  spirit  can  one  behold  Christ's  glory ;  and  with  the 
eyes  of  the  spirit  we  also  can  behold  it.  And  that  we  are  able  to  see  it 
now  the  same  as  ever — is  not  this  the  proof  of  what  we  call  the  inspira- 
tion of  his  evangelists  ?  If  the  record  of  the  evangelists  concerning 
Christ,  impresses  believers  afresh  m  each  successive  age,  Avith  the  same 
original  power,  as  did  the  very  things  which  they  formerly,  with  their 
own  senses,  saw  and  heard  ;  and  if  he  who  reads  Christ's  words  now  ex 
claims,  precisely  as  did  those  who  first  heard  them :  "  Never  man  spake 
like  tliis  man  ;"  do  ye  ask  any  further  proof  of  the  fact,  that  in  s])ite  ol 
all  human  weaknesses,  God's  hand  was  yet  guiding  the  pen  of  those  who 
have  written  to  us  of  Christ?     If,  then,  the  majestic  form  of  Christ  yei 


40  FRED.    AUG.    GOT.    THOLUCK. 

abides  upon  eavth,  it  is  here  in  the  record,  and  remains  here  as  a  touch 
stone,  by  which  the  hearts  of  men  may  be  revealed  for  all  time  to  come 

But  in  still  another  sense  is  he  also  present :  for  he  has  said  that  he 
would  yet  come  again,  in  order  to  take  up  his  abode  with  us.  Are  not 
believers  his  temples,  his  body,  his  members  ?  Is  Christ  not  perpetually 
present  in  all  those  who  are  born  of  his  Spirit  ?  That  we  are  weak 
members,  this  we  indeed  confess ;  but  yet,  he  who  is  of  Christ,  must 
be  led  by  Christ's  Spirit.  He  must  have  in  himself,  something  of 
Christ's  ways  and  chai'acter.  And  this  is  why  I  say  again,  Christ  is  in 
his  followers  also,  a  touchstone  of  human  hearts.  He  who  has  true  love 
for  Christ,  can  never  hate  his  followers.  He  who  has  no  heart  for  his 
followers  can  never  love  Christ.  "  If  they  have  persecuted  me,  they  will 
also  persecute  you  ;  if  they  have  kept  my  sayings,  they  Avill  keep  your? 
also,"  Thus  spake  the  Saviour,  and  in  this  way  did  he  inseparably  bind 
together  his  own  lot  and  that  of  his  disciples.  Weaknesses,  individual 
mistakes,  errors,  we  dare  not  disavow,  for  who  of  us  all  has  them  not  ? 
May  a  man,  then,  hate  his  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  But  he  who  is  of 
Christ's,  is  my  flesh  and  blood ;  yea,  more,  he  is  one  spirit  with  me. 
Indeed,  we  go  yet  further.  All  religious  life  and  striving  of  humanity 
is  only  a  striving  toward  Christ.  For,  let  me  ask,  is  not  Christ  the 
crowning  point  of  all  religion  ? — the  end  and  aim  of  aumanity,  so  far 
iis  it  is  religiously  stirred,  and  longs  after  God  ?  He  has  himself  mti- 
mated  that  in  every  man  who  discovers  and  lays  hold  upon  him,  there 
must  already  exist  something  akin  to  himself.  "  He  who  is  of  God," 
he  says,  "  heareth  my  voice."  The  man,  therefore,  who  strives  after 
God,  however  circuitously  and  erroneously  it  may  be,  he  is  an  object  of 
my  love  ;  and  in  all  phases  of  humanity  the  extent  to  which  any  person 
attracts  me,  is  determined  by  the  earnestness  with  which  he  seeks  after 
God,  or  the  devotion  with  which  he  clings  to  him  in  Christ.  All  other 
motives  for  love  are  subordinate  to  this. 

And  now  how  is  it  with  us  in  this  regard  ?  How  does  it  stand  in  re- 
spect to  our  love  for  Christ,  and  for  all  his  members,  be  they  never  so 
weak ;  yea,  for  all  those  who,  though  in  the  most  imperfect  manner,  still 
make  religion  the  central  object  of  all  their  strivings  ?  Have  we  all  attained 
to  such  a  personal  relationship  to  the  glorified  Son  o.^  God  that  we  are 
able  to  say,  Christ  is  the  highest  object  of  my  affection  ?  I  love  him  as  he 
demands  to  be  loved  ?  I  love  him  more  than  father  and  mother  ?  Are 
those  who  cleave  to  Christ  with  tlie  greatest  devotion,  however  wanting 
they  may  be  in  other  worthy  human  gifts  and  talents,  still  the  dearest  to 
you  among  men  ? — the  persons  to  -^vhom  you  feel,  most  of  all,  closely 
attached  ?  We  will  not  here  ask  after  your  confession  of  faith.  We  will 
accept  your  love  as  sufficient.  For  he  who  can  respond  affirmatively  to 
the  question  "Lovest  thou  Christ  better  than  father  and  mother?"  need 
not  avow  his  creed.  Ho  to  whom  Christ  is  of  more  worth  than  any 
other  child  of  Adam,  such  as  the  rest  of  us  are,  is,  on  this  ground,  truly 


CHRIST    THE   TOUCHSTONE   OF   HUMAN    HEARTS.  41 

a  Christian.  But  0,  how  are  the  liearts  of  the  children  of  this  age  laid 
bare,  as  on  the  one  hand  may  be  seen  those  to  whom  adhesion  to  some 
one  little  article  of  their  own  favorite  creed,  is  of  more  weight  than  the 
midoubted  manifestations  of  a  Christ-loving  heart ! — and  on  the  otLer 
thousands  upon  thousands  who  are  ever  ready  to  make  a  great  ado  when 
a  i^erson  goes  too  far — as  they  term  it — in  religion,  but  have  not  one 
word  of  complaint  or  dissent  in  respect  to  the  multitudes  who  do  not 
go  far  enough  !  What  a  touchstone  of  the  human  heart  have  we  here  ? 
How  imperatively  does  the  age  demand  that  all  who  have  only  a  love 
for  Christ, — that  all  who  are  truly  in  earnest  about  religion  should  hold 
fast  to  each  other.  If  ever  the  saying,  "  He  that  is  not  for  us  is  against 
us,"  be  appUcable,  it  is  applicable  now — now  when  Protestant  Christen- 
dom is  beginning  to  part  into  two  camps — Avheu  the  contest  is  no 
longer  about  particular  articles  of  faith ;  but  the  mooted  question  is, 
whether  the  State  shall  have  a  church,  Christendom  a  Saviour,  and  hu- 
manity a  God  in  heaven.  Now,  verily,  is  Christ  the  banner,  and  all  who 
can  kneel  in  faith  before  his  cross  should  join  hands.  Now  is  Christ  once 
more  in  every  respect,  the  sign  which  is  everywhere  spoken  against,  and 
through  which  the  thoughts  of  many  hearts  are  revealed. 

When  Simeon  spake  these  words,  he  had  in  view  the  last  moments  of 
our  Saviour's  conflict  with  the  world,  and  in  reference  to  this  scene,  we 
have  yet  to  consider  hoio  Christ  loas  a  touchstone  of  the  human  heart, 
through  which  was  first  truly  revealed  what  was  in  man.  Never,  at 
any  period,  have  the  contents  of  the  human  heart  been  so  exposed  by 
iticans  of  action  and  endurance,  as  they  were  through  the  conduct  of  men 
tOAvard  him  who  dared  to  say,  of  himself,  that  in  him  was  manifested  what 
God  is, — as  they  were  through  their  behavior  toward  the  Son  of  God 
Aimself,  in  his  deepest  suiferings.  What  was  in  man's  heart,  was  then 
made  evident,  both  as  regards  his  foes  and  his  friends.  What  was  in 
man's  heart  was  indicated  already  by  this  fact  alone,  that  a  being  Uke 
Jesus  could  have  enemies  at  all, — and  such  enemies !  Direct  your  glance 
with  me  a  moment  to  this  point.  Humanity  has  passed  through  many 
scenes,  which  are  sufiicient  to  undeceive  any  person,  who  has  known  noth- 
ing of  human  nature  but  its  original  goodness  and  excellence.  Let  me 
refer  you  to  one.  Scarcely  fifty  years  have  passed  since  there  was  heard 
in  Europe  among  a  cultivated  and  Christian  people,  the  cry — and  whose 
blood  does  not  curdle  in  his  veins,  even  now,  at  the  remembrance  of  it? 
— "  It  will  never  go  well  with  humanity  until  the  last  king  is  throttled 
with  the  intestines  of  the  last  priest."  As  we  have  just  said,  whose  blood 
does  not  curdle  in  his  veins  at  hearmg  such  a  hell-cry.  And  yet  this  is 
not  so  horrible  as  that  which  happened  to  Christ.  When  men  sufter  m- 
nooently,  even  the  best  of  men,  we  yet  do  not  forget  that  they  are,  after 
all,  sinners,  although  a  very  small  portion  of  their  own  guilt,  bo  it  only 
a  lack  of  wisdom,  may  have  evidenced  itself  in  the  sufterings  of  the  in- 
nocent victims.     So,  too,  how  often  does  the  burden  of  the  curse,  which 


42  FRED.    AUG.    GOT.    THOLUOK. 

remote  ancestors  had  i^rovoked,  first  flxll  with  crushing  weight  upon  their 
descendants.  And  however  we  may  shudder  at  the  monstrous  cruelties 
of  the  French  Revohition, — were  not  the  crying  sins  of  whole  genera- 
tions of  bygone  kings  and  priests  expiated  in  that  blood-bath  ?  Yet  it 
must  be  added,  sins  from  which,  indeed,  the  descendants  themselves 
were  by  no  means  altogether  exempt.  See,  now,  wherein  lies  the  dif 
ference  between  the  impression  made  by  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  and 
that  made  by  all  the  scaflblds  upon  which  innocent  humanity  has  bled. 
Here  stands  one,  of  whom  it  may  be  afiirmed  without  fear  of  contradic- 
tion, "  he  had  done  no  sin,  neither  was  any  guile  found  in  his  mouth." 
That  being  who  said,  "  he  that  seeth  me  seeth  the  unseen  Father," — hhn 
have  men  put  to  death  on  the  cross  as  a  malefactor !  Here,  then,  is  the 
human  heart  first  truly  laid  open,  even  unto  the  inmost  depths  of  that 
corruption  which  dwelt  in  it.  If  humanity  could  do  this,  what  is  it  not 
capable  of  perpetrating  ?  But  this  same  humanity  which  was  in  the 
breast  of  Caiaphas,  Judas,  and  Pilate,  is  in  mine  also. 

I  go  yet  further.  What  is  in  the  human  heart  is  revealed  to  us  also 
amid  the  circle  of  Jesus'  friends.  What  an  image  of  weakness  and 
infirmity,  even  after  the  sincerest  and  most  ardent  protestation,  is  pre- 
sented to  us  in  the  case  of  Peter  !  In  respect  to  that  being  of  whom 
Peter  had  testified :  "  Whither  shall  we  go  ?  thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life  ;  thou  art  the  Son  of  the  living  God  ;"  even  in  respect  to 
A^m,  could  this  same  Peter  cry  out  in  the  hour  of  danger,  "  I  know  him 
not !"  But  it  was  not  Peter's  nature  alone  that  was  here  disclosed  by 
the  touchstone.  This  humanity  which  dwelt  in  the  breast  of  Peter  the 
fallen,  dwells  also  in  my  breast.  Besides,  Peter  stands  not  alone  by  the 
cross,  as  the  only  type  of  human  infirmity.  Do  you  not  see  there  the 
rest  of  the  disciples,  how  they  all  crowd  timidly  together  at  an  equal 
remove  from  their  Lord  ?  Not  one  of  them  has  the  courage  to  speak  a 
bold  word  in  behalf  of  the  man  of  their  heart,  who  hangs  near  on  the 
cross.  If  in  the  critical  hour  of  trial  Peter  denies  his  Master,  so  do  the 
rest  all  betray  fear  in  like  manner. 

It  is  not  necessary,  however,  that  I  should  dwell  only  on  the  melan- 
choly disclosures  of  the  human  heart  called  forth  by  the  suffering  Saviour. 
He  was  not  only  the  touchstone  to  reveal  to  us,  to  what  a  degree  the 
human  heart  was  capable  of  obduracy,  and  shallowTiess,  and  inconstancy, 
but  he  also  shows  to  us  how  this  same  human  heart  may  be  rendered 
teachable  and  tractable  imder  the  influences  of  divine  grace.  For  in 
spite  of  all  the  disciples'  weakness,  it  was  still  plain  that  their  faith  had 
a  firm  foundation  on  which  it  fastened.  What  lay  beyond  the  cross  was 
at  this  time  hardly  even  surmised  by  them.  When  Christ  was  borne  to 
the  grave,  then  was  their  hope  borne  to  the  grave  also  ;  but,  0  blessed 
experience,  their  faith  was  not  borne  with  it.  See  how  wonderfully 
this  fact  is  indicated  in  the  instance  of  Nicodemus.  He  who  ventured 
to  approach  a  living  Christ  only  by  night,  now  that  he  is  dead,  hesitates 


CHEISI    THE    TOUCHSTONE    OF    HUMAN    HEARTS.  43 

not,  as  Ave  see,  openly  to  bury  him  by  day  ;  and,  when  all  hope  is  over,  he 
confesses  him  publicly  before  the  world.  And  then,  when  the  grave  has 
opened  itself,  when  the  cross,  this  star  Avith  shorn  rays,  touched  with  the 
beams  of  the  Easter  morning  sun,  once  more  is  clothed  with  radiance, 
how  does  the  hope  that  was  buried  with  their  Jesus,  together  with  their 
Jesus  again  arise  !  How  does  the  little  spark  of  faith,  almost  smothered 
by  the  burden  of  the  cross,  shoot  up  again  heavenward  in  a  flame  that 
was  never  more  to  subside.  In  view  of  these  things,  may  we  not  aflirm 
that  if  one  great  drama  of  humanity  was  being  enacted  upo7i  the  cross, 
there  was  still  another  at  the  same  time  acted  out  beneath  it,  of  hardly 
less  significance  !  Thus  it  happened  that  over  against  the  noblest  mani- 
festation of  humanity,  as  well  as  in  it  and  through  it,  is  there  made 
known  to  us  what  is  in  man. 

We  have  been  able  thus  far  only  to  sketch  our  subject  in  some  of  its 
most  general  features.  In  our  subsequent  discourses  Ave  will  take  our 
stand  under  the  cross,  and  meditate  on  such  revelations  of  the  human 
heart  as  we  there  shall  witness. 

If  it  has  been  shoAvn  that  the  manifestation  of  Christ  was  a  touchstone 
of  the  hearts  of  men,  O  how  should  our  love  toward  him,  and  also  tOAvard 
his  true  believers,  kindle  Avith  fresh  earnestness !  for  it  is  according  to  the 
measure  of  our  affection  for  him,  that  Ave  shall  be  judged  in  the  end.  0 
thou  blessed  Saviour,  thou  hast  demanded  that  we  love  thee  better  than 
father  or  mother.  Thou  Avouldst  not  have  demanded  of  us  this,  had  not 
thy  glory,  thy  grace,  and  thy  truth  been  indeed  deserving  of  such  afiec- 
Lion.  Reveal  thyself  to  us,  then,  O  thou  Avorshipful  Redeemer  !  Reveal 
thyself  to  us  in  thine  incomparable  glory  and  beauty,  in  order  that  we 
may  be  strengthened  to  love  thee  with  that  all-excluding  love  which 
thou  requiredst !  And  fill  us  anew  with  love  tOAvard  thy  members  on 
earth!  Yea,  may  all  who  in  this  world  but  confess  thy  name,  and  are 
subject  to  thee  in  love  and  sincere  devotion,  be  also  sacred  to  our  hearts; 
for  thou,  Lord,  art  the  only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and 
truth !    Amen. 


DISCOURSE    II. 

JULIUS    MULLER,    D.D. 

Prominent  among  the  most  profound  and  scientific  theologians  and  eloquent 
preachers  in  Germany,  stands  Professor  Miiller,  the  intimate  friend  and  colleague 
of  Dr.  Tholuck.  He  is,  like  him,  a  native  of  Breslau,  in  the  province  of  Silesia, 
Prussia ;  and,  contrary  to  the  rule  of  the  German  divines,  first  labored  in  practical 
life  before  entering  upon  his  academic  career.  Karl  Ottfried  Miiller,  the  eminent 
Greek  scholar  and  archaeologist,  who  died  in  1840,  was  a  brother  of  his.  In  1825 
he  became  pastor  at  Schonbrunn,  and  in  1831  university  preacher  at  Gottingen. 
In  1835  he  received  a  call  to  Marburg  as  professor.  Thence  he  removed  to  Halle 
In  15^39,  where  he  has  since  labored  as  teacher  of  the  various  branches  of  system- 
atic and  practical  theology,  and  as  member  of  the  Consistory  for  the  province  of 
Magdeburg.  It  is  said  that  the  students  call  him,  humorously,  "  ^wndeji  Miiller." 
^■■th  reference  to  his  work  on  the  "  Christian  Doctrine  of  Sin." 

This  great  work,  which  will  ever  remain  a  sufficient  monument  of  liis  philoso- 
pmcal  and  theological  learning,  was  pubUshed  in  its  third  and  perfected  edition, 
in  1849,  in  two  volumes ;  and  is  one  of  the  standard  publications  (though  not  well 
translated)  of  Clark's  Foreign  Theological  Library,  Edinburg. 

The  British  Quarterly  Revieio  held  the  following  language  respecting  this  book: 
"  The  most  weighty  and  important  contribution  to  the  cause  of  dogmatic  theology 
which  Germany  has  recently  produced.  It  unites,  in  a  high  degree,  depth  and 
comprehensiveness,  with  practical  earnestness  and  clearness.  It  is  profound  even 
to  the  contentment  of  a  German  mind,  yet  rarely  obscure  and  uninstructive  ;  the 
author  evinces  his  thorough  metaphysical  training,  and  his  work  is  pervaded  by 
the  pressure  of  a  shining  and  disciplined  intellect,  and  the  rare  mastery  of  a  large 
and  skillfully  argumentative  grasp."  Should  the  author's  life  be  spared,  we  may 
expect  from  him,  by-and-by,  a  complete  exhibition  of  the  system  of  Christian  dog- 
matics and  ethics. 

In  1854  this  author  put  forth  a  book  on  Evangelical  Union  :  its  nature  and  divine 
right.  Its  aim  is  to  unite  existing  discordant  elements,  "  To  unite,"  he  says, 
"  what  is  internally  divided,  is  an  unprofitable  work ;  but  to  divide  what  belongs 
together,  is  still  more  unprofitable."  Besides  these  works,  he  has  written  many 
solid  and  valuable  reviews  for  the  Studien  und  KritiJcen,  and  other  publications. 

Next  to  Tholuck,  Professor  Miiller  forms  the  chief  attraction  of  the  University 
of  Halle;  and  throughout  Germany,  owing  to  his  practical  wisdom,  his  piety  and 
great  moral  worth,  he  stands  a  kind  of  umpire  amid  the  theological  conflicts  of 
the  day.  In  personal  appearance,  he  is  described  as  a  tall,  dignified,  fine-looking, 
earnest,  courteous,  and  amiable  Christian  gentleman,  whom  it  is  impossible  not  to 


LOVE    THE    SUBSTANCE    OF    CnillSTIAN    LIFE.  45 

ioTe  and  esteem.  By  some  misfortune  he  lost  one  eye  long  since,  and  quite  re- 
cently a  shock  of  apoplexy  has  injured  his  memory,  and  tlireatens  to  interfere 
materially  with  the  prosecution  of  his  labors.  His  loss  or  disability  would  be 
widely  and  deeply  felt.     He  is  now  only  56  years  of  age. 

As  a  preacher.  Professor  Miiller  occupies  a  high  rank.  Some  ten  years  since  he 
pubhshed  a  volume  of  sermons  on  "  Testimony  in  Relation  to  Christ,  and  the  Way 
to  Him ;  for  Inquirers."  Since  then  he  has  published  other  sermons.  None  of  his 
discourses  have  appeared  in  English.  They  are  often  longer  and  more  argumenta- 
tive than  is  common  with  German  preachers ;  but  if  this  be  to  their  disadvantage, 
it  is  fully  compensated  in  the  polished  and  tasteful  style  in  which  his  thoughts  are 
uttered.  The  arrangement,  also,  is  generally  distinct,  natural,  and  happy,  and  he 
glides  into  the  several  parts  of  his  subject  with  peculiar  ease  and  gracefulness.  The 
following  aflfords  a  favorable  specimen  of  the  style  of  his  eloquence. 


LOVE  THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 

Thou,  0  God,  who  art  thyself  love,  hast  called  us  to  love.  All  thy  servants  should 
be  one  in  love  to  thee,  to  thy  Son,  and  to  one  another.  But  thou,  who  art  acquainted  m  ith 
hearts,  knowest  how  love  in  us  must  evermore  the  struggle  with  selfish  impulses,  how^ 
indeed,  it  often  appears  as  if  it  were  wholly  overmastered  by  them.  0  be  thou  near  to  us 
with  thy  Spirit  of  love.  Let  not  the  glimmering  wick  go  out ;  kindle  the  spark  to  a 
t)right  flame,  which  may,  more  and  more,  consume  all  that  is  ungodly,  that  thy  image  may 
•jppear  in  us,  ever  purer  and  clearer.     Amen. 

"  And  we  have  known  and  believed  the  love  that  God  hath  to  us.  God  is  love  ;  and  he 
that  dwelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God,  and  God  in  him.  Hereui  is  our  love  made  perfect, 
that  we  may  have  boldness  in  the  day  of  judgment :  because  as  he  is,  so  are  we  in  this 
world.  There  is  no  fear  in  love ;  but  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear ;  because  fear  hath  tor- 
ment. He  that  feareth  is  not  made  perfect  in  love.  We  love  him  because  he  first  loved 
us.  If  a  man  say,  I  love  God,  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar:  for  he  that  loveth  not 
his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ?  And  this 
commandment  have  we  from  him,  that  he  who  loveth  God,  love  his  brother  also." — 
1  Joii.v,  iv.  16-21. 

They  are  simple  thoughts,  my  beloved  friends,  which  our  text  con- 
tains, and  they  are  plainly  exhibited.  In  general  he  would  very  much 
err,  who  would  seek  in  the  Epistles  of  John  a  great  variety  of  attractive 
subjects,  elevated  by  the  ingenious  connection  of  the  most  diverse 
modes  of  treatment.  Everywhere  is  it  the  aim  of  the  apostle  to  impress 
dee]>ly  upon  the  hearts  of  his  readers,  certain  fundamental  truths  of 
Christianity — before  all,  the  truth  that  love  is  the  innermost  substance  of 
all  Christian  feeling  and  of  all  Chi-istian  life.  Therefore,  with  him  the 
development  of  thought  moves  upon  a  narrow  path ;  he  ever  seeks  to 
place  these  truths,  from  new  sides,  in  the  light ;  from  every  digressive 
discussion  he  quickly  comes  back  to  his  main  points,  without  being  anx- 


■iO  JULIUS     MULLER. 

lous  to  avoid  repetitions.  Such  a  mode  of  representation  will  surely 
gratify  him  who  is  convinced  of  the  highest  truth  and  infinite  importance 
of  these  doctrines  ;  to  the  other  class,  they  may,  indeed,  on  account  of 
their  uniformity,  be  rather  wearisome  than  affecting.  And  is  not  this, 
after  all,  everywhere  the  case  with  the  divine  doctrine  ?  He  who  will  be 
iimused  and  entertained  by  a  graceful  change  of  subjects,  seeks  not  the 
gratifications  of  this  desire  in  the  divine  word  and  its  preaching;  it  i? 
the  earth  which,  in  its  unspeakably  rich  variety,  offers  him  that  which  he 
desires.  What  is  revealed  to  us  of  God  and  his  will  and  working,  and 
of  the  future  world,  however  inexhaustible  in  its  depth,  is  still,  in  com- 
parison with  that  variety,  very  simple,  and  confined  to  a  few  themes 
The  lofty  beauty  of  a  clear  starry  night,  too,  consists  not  in  the  fascinai 
ing  change  of  objects,  and  yet  its  impression  upon  the  soul  is  the  might- 
iest and  most  majestic. 

As  these  remarks  were  suggested  by  a  glance  at  the  text,  they  should 
at  the  same  time  serve  as  an  introduction,  to  justify  the  simple  and  plain 
reflections  which  we  will  now  offer  upon  it.  For  so  great  and  lofty  is  the 
divine  simplicity  in  the  discourse  of  the  apostle,  that  we  must  only  be 
fearful  of  injuring  and  dissipating  its  impression,  when  we  seek  to 
adorn  its  interpretation  with  rhetorical  art.  Let  us  only  unfold  the  holy 
import  of  our  text  and  candidly  lay  it  to  heart.  That  great  theme  of  the 
apostle,  love — that  love  is  the  substance  of  the  Christian  life — this  is 
the  kernel  of  our  text ;  so  let  it  be  also  the  middle  point  of  our  medita- 
tion. We  will  try  to  persuade  ourselves  that  Love  is  the  Beginning, 
THE  Progress,  and  the  Consummation  of  the  Christian  life. 

I.  If  an  old  pious  proverb  bids  every  work,  even  in  earthly  affairs,  to 
begin  with  God,  surely  and  most  of  all  must  the  beginning  of  our  Christ- 
ian life  proceed  from  God.  Our  relation  to  God  must,  before  all,  be 
right,  that  then,  from  this  strong  root,  our  Christian  life  may  grow. 

But  when  is  our  relation  to  God  right  ?  When  we  glanced  about  us 
upon  the  beautifully  adorned  earth,  and  looked  into  the  immeasurable 
depths  of  the  starry  world,  a  thousand  voices  made  known  to  us  the 
almightiness  and  omniscience  of  God,  for  whose  sake  all  things  have 
their  being  and  subsist  in  wonderful  order.  When  we  observed  the 
divine  control  in  the  history  of  the  human  race,  and  then  turned  back 
the  reflective  glance  into  our  own  inmost  soul,  there  met  us  the  awful  holi- 
ness and  justice  of  God,  as  they  adore  what  is  good,  and  cherish  it  with 
approbation,  but  abhor  what  is  evil  and  destroy  its  work.  Agitated  with 
mysterious  awe,  our  soul  bowed  before  the  inconceivable  greatness  of  its 
Creator,  before  the  holy  loftiness  of  its  lawgiver.  The  thought  of  God 
had  become  in  us  a  luring  one  ;  but  from  God  himself  an  immeasurable 
chasm  still  parted  us.  The  Eternal  dwells  in  a  light  that  no  man  can 
a])proach  ;  no  one  has  beheld  him :  his  nature  was  hidden  from  us.  The 
Christian  life  had  not  yet  begun  in  us. 

Then  we  heard  how  the  only-begotten  Son,  who  is  in  the  bosom  of  the 


LOVE    THE    SUBSTANCE    OF    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  47 

Fatlier,  came  clown  to  men  and  was  made  known  to  them;  that  these 
hidden  depths  of  the  nature  of  God  are  naught  else  but  love.  We  now 
heard  the  apostle  speak  out  the  great  word,  the  solution  of  the  deepest 
riddle  of  existence — God  is  Love. 

Man  can  experience,  my  friends,  nothing  greater  in  his  life  than 
-when  he  gains  this  blessed  knowledge.  God  is  love.  In  order  that  he 
might  communicate  to  creatures  himself  and  his  blessed  life,  he  has 
called  the  world  into  existence ;  then  he  has  so  loved  the  world,  the 
world  sunk  in  sin,  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  all  Avho  be- 
lieve in  him,  might  not  perish  but  have  everlasting  life.  Such  a  knowl- 
edge, when  with  living  power  it  penetrates  the  soul,  when  the  soul  is 
able  truly  to  appropriate  it  to  itself,  is  necessarily  the  turning-point  to  a 
new  life ;  for  we  see  ourselves  now  in  an  entirely  new  relation  to  God. 
The  unknown  God  is  now  known  to  us,  for  him  who  has  no  name,  have 
we  found  a  name,  the  sweetest  name  of  Father.  If  before,  fear  and 
^vWe  kept  lis  remote  from  the  lofty,  the  inaccessible  One,  we  can  now 
draw  near  to  him  with  a  childlike  confidence  and  say,  "  Abba,  beloved 
Father.'-  "See,"  exclaims  John,  "wiiat  love  the  Father  has  shown 
to  us,  tha^  we  should  be  called  the  children  of  God."  In  the  pos- 
session of  this  holy  privilege,  a  stiU  peace  sj^reads  itself  over  our  soul, 
as  it  once  sank  upon  the  soul  of  Elias,  when  the  Lord,  after  the  storm, 
and  flame,  and  earthquake,  drew  near  to  him  in  the  still  soft  breeze.  It 
is  in  this  privilege  that  we  recognize  our  highest  dignity.  It  allures  us 
with  holy  pride  to  announce  to  the  world  that  God  loves  us.  If  before, 
the  thought  of  God  only  evoked  in  us  the  consciousness  of  our  own 
nothingness,  now  it  exalts  us  to  the  boldest  assurance  ;  for  we  are  con- 
scious that  God  loves  us.  Now  let  no  one  say  more,  that  man  can  ren- 
der nothing  to  God.  Is  God  the  subject  of  this  love,  he  certainly  can 
render  him  one  thing — love  ;  for  it  lies  in  the  innermost  natui'e  of  love 
that  it  desires  love  in  return. 

And  this  is  the  second  element  that  belongs  to  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  life.  The  rays  of  its  dawning  light  beamed  forth  brightly 
when  we  learned  that  God  is  Love  ;  but  the  sun  of  the  new  day  rose, 
when  we  said  with  John,  "  Let  us  love  him,  for  he  has  first  loved  us" — 
when  the  resolve  in  our  soul  was  strong.  Henceforth  we  will  no  more 
live  for  ourselves,  but  for  him  who  has  loved  us,  and  out  of  love  sent  his 
Son  for  our  reconciliation.  To  please  him,  this  is  our  holiest  endeavor  ; 
his  will  is  the  law  of  our  action  and  omission.  My  friends,  to  partial 
improvement,  to  the  abandonment  of  single  crimes,  to  the  attaiinnent  of 
single  good  qualities  even  he  may  come,  whose  soul  as  yet  knows  noth 
ing  of  childUke  love  to  God.  Placing  ourselves  upon  the  stand-point 
upon  w^hich  the  virtues  appear  as  isolated,  we  shall  in  general,  seldom 
find  a  man  who  can  not  show  one  or  another  virtue ;  but  a  tnif  regen- 
eration and  thorough  renewing  of  the  whole  feeling  and  life,  is  only 
possible  when  the  soul,  penetrated  by  that  love  which  springs  from  faith, 


48  JULIUS    MtJLLER. 

consecrates  and  offers  liimself  and  his  whole  being,  as  a  possession,  to 
God.  Our  life  is  only  truly  Christian  when  its  root  has  become  the 
thankful,  reciprocal  love  to  our  Father  in  heaven,  who  had,  who  -has 
planned  tlie  redemption  for  our  everlasting  salvation. 

II.  If  the  knowledge  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  and  the  reciprucai 
love  enkindled  by  it  is  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  life,  the  inner  seed, 
out  of  which  it  unfolds  itself,  we  may  also  recognize  its  progressive  de- 
velopment in  the  active  love  to  our  neighbor. 

Let  no  one,  however,  suppose  by  this,  that  now,  in  the-.further  develop- 
ment of  the  Christian  life,  love  to  God  is  to  cease  to  be  active,  or  to 
lose  its  dominion  in  the  heart.  Not  so;  but  as  the  root  lives  on,  although 
the  plant  has  grown  up  out  of  it,  and  as  the  fountain  does  not  cease  to 
stream,  though  it  has  formed  the  brook,  so  too  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  life  continues  in  its  further  progress.  Yea,  as  plant  and  brook 
must  at  once  cease  to  be  if  the  root  is  dried  and  the  fountain  sealed,  so 
Christian  brotherly  love  ever  continues  to  receive  its  life  from  the  love 
to  God. 

The  latter  necessarily  reveals  itself  in  the  former,  and  the  former  is 
the  sure  preserver  of  the  latter.  "Every  one,"  says  John,  "that  loveth 
him  that  begat,  loveth  him  also  that  is  begotten  of  him."  The  Father's 
image  that  he  bears  in  himself,  fills  him  with  a  deep  joy  and  affection 
when  he  beholds  it  in  his  brethren.  Now  he  pui-sues,  as  the  highest 
good  of  liis  endeavor  and  labor,  no  more  his  own  fame,  his  own  enjoy 
ment,  his  own  advantage,  but  the  common  good  of  his  brethren,  t;je 
goodly  thought  of  their  spiritual  and  physical  life  ;  to  foster  this,  in  the 
Avider  or  narrower  sphere  in  Avhich  God  had  placed  him,  he  recognizes, 
as  his  holiest  calling,  to  which  he  willingly  subordinates  his  own  pii-, ate 
interests.  His  activity,  however  painstaking,  however  insignificant  it 
may  appear  to  be,  now  seems  to  him  to  be  sanctified,  because  he  knows 
that  by  it  he  serves  his  brethren. 

Where  you  miss  the  presence  of  this  feeling — where  you  find  a  slug- 
gish reluctance  to  be  active  for  the  good  of  others — when  you  meet  the 
unsubdued  passions  of  hatred,  of  envy,  of  revenge,  which  are  eager  to 
injure  a  neighbor,  or  when  you  come  in  contact  with  the  cold  self-seeking, 
wliich  sees  a  brother  starving  and  shuts  his  heart  from  him,  which 
unshrinkingly  sacrifices  the  neighbor's  welfare,  so  soon  as  his  own 
advantage  requires  it — name  all  tlie  pretended  piety  of  such  an  one 
plain  hypocrisy,  and  all  his  protestations  of  love  to  God  mere  prattle^ 
sounding  brass — tinkling  cymbal.  For  the  apostle  also  says  in  our  text : 
"If  any  say,  '  I  love  God,'  and  hateth  his  neighbor,  he  is  a  liar.  For  he 
that  loveth  not  his  brother,  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God, 
whom  he  hath  not  seen." 

But  against  this  proof  of  the  apostle,  doubts  and  scruples  have  arisen 
in  the  breasts  of  many  thinking  readers.  "  Shall  it  then  be  harder," 
they  have  asked  themselves,  "to  love  the  invisible  God  thr.  i  the  vi; 


LOYB    THE    SUBSTANCE    OF    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  49 

ible  man  ?"  But  is  the  man  not  deformed  by  sin,  and  often  in  so  high  a 
degree,  that  his  whole  nature  makes  a  most  repulsive  and  loathsome  im- 
pression upon  uf^  ?  How  shall  affection  and  love  not  feel  themselves 
checked  ?  For  the  very  reason  that  we  see  him  before  us  ;  because  the 
might  of  sin  confronts  us  unmistakably,  in  the  distorted  features  of  his 
countenance,  in  his  repulsive  manners  and  words,  in  his  Avhoie  disgustful 
apjjearance,  it  will  be  hard  for  us  to  love  him.  And  then,  on  the  other 
Kide,  does  not  our  own  experience  teach  us,  that  our  affection  for  those 
whom  we  love, -is  wont  to  grow,  when  we  do  not  see  them  for  a  time  ? 
When  we  saw  them  daily,  associated  with  them  daily,  our  mutual  pecu- 
liai'ities  and  weaknesses  often  came  into  disagreeable  collision,  with  one 
'.nother;- we  thought  ourselves  injured  by  them,  now  in  this  way,  now 
in  that.  Sometimes,  indeed,  love  and  affection  for  them  were  for  the 
moment  supplanted  by  the  emotions  of  provoked  self-love,  or  by  the 
lively  feeling  of  disj^leasure.  Were  we,  however,  for  a  time  separated 
from  them,  all  these  disagreements  were  forgotten,  and  a  hearty  longhig 
for  their  society  gained  the  mastery  over  us.  And  was  this  longing,  s6 
far  as  this  earthly  life  is  concerned,  a  vain  one — were  the  dear  ones  torn 
from  us  by  death — then  their  image,  in  our  loving  remembrance,  purified 
itself  from  eveiy  stain ;  and  so  transfigured,  we  kept  it  in  the  still  sanc- 
tuary of  undymg  affection.  How  then  can  we  believe  that  the  love  to 
visible  men  is  easier  than  love  to  the  unseen  God  ? 

How,  my  friends,  shall  we  deny  the  truth  of  these  remarks  ?  We  can 
not.  Or  shall  we  give  up  the  attempt  to  justify  the  words  of  the  apos- 
tle? Just  as  little.  First  think  of  it.  This  experience,  that  by  a 
remarkable  principle  of  our  nature,  the  remote  is  forbearing,  that  it  only 
hides  the  dark  stains,  but  not  the  beaming  features,  stands  not  at  all  in 
contradiction  with  what  John  says  in  our  text.  For  this  beautiful  image 
of  the  absent  loved  ones,  which  our  soul  keeps,  is  still  nothing  but  the 
effect  of  our  personal  intercourse  with  them,  the  impression  whicii, 
purified  from  some  single  imperfections,  they  have  left  upon  us.  But  in 
relation  to  their  disturbances  of  love,  springing  from  sin,  let  us  reflect, 
that  the  apostle  does  not  speak  of  love  to  rough,  vicious  men,  which,  to 
be  sure,  has  its  special  difficulties  to  overcome ;  but  of  the  Christian 
brotherly  love — of  the  love  to  the  children  of  God,  to  the  true  disciples 
of  Jesus  Christ,  in  wliom  he  himself  has  gained  a  likeness — in  whom,  by 
this  means,  the  original  human  nature,  the  crown  of  the  earthly  creation, 
the  image  of  God,  comes  forth  purer  and  clearer  in  its  nobiUty  and  in  its 
loveliness. 

Yet,  how  distant  still  remains  the  ever-marred  image  of  the  inconceiv- 
able perfection  and  glory  of  the  Original !  How  infinitely  more  worthy 
of  love  is  God  than  the  most  excellent  of  his  creatures !  To  whom  could 
it  occur  to  deny  this  ?  Surely  to  the  apostle,  least  of  all.  But  John  by 
no  means  makes  the  universal  assertion,  that  it  is  harder  to  love  God 
than  men,  but  will  only  point  us  to  a  particular  advantage  from  the  love 

4 


50  JULIUS    MULLER. 

to  the  brethren,  when  he  says :  "  For  he  that  loveth  not  his  brothei 
M'houi  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not  seen  ?" 

But  John  does  not  content  himself  with  this  ground,  but,  in  order  to 
im})ress  upon  the  Christian  most  deeply,  how  essential  the  brotherly  love 
is  to  the  Christian  life,  he  reminds  them  of  the  express  command  of  God, 
that  whoever  loves  him  should  also  love  his  brother.  "Thou  shalt 
love  God,  thy  Lord,  with  thy  Avhole  heart,  with  thy  whole  soul,  with 
every  power,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  So  had  God  commanded  ; 
and  the  Son  of  God  had  declarevl  that  the  second  pai-t  of  this  command 
is  like  the  first.  Both  are  most  closely  connected  with  one  another. 
Whoever  would  fulfill  the  one  part  of  the  royal  law,  can  not  set  aside  the 
other.  Whoever  is  earnest  in  his  love  to  God,  seeks  to  please  him,  and 
directs  himself  accordmg  to  his  will.  But  it  is  his  will  and  command 
that  we  should  love  our  brethren,  and  not  the  brethren  alone,  but  also 
our  enemies — those  men  even,  who  are  blinded  by  selfishness  and  hatred ; 
who  are  sunk  in  sin  and  delusion — and  not  with  words,  nor  vdth  the 
tongue,  but  with  the  act  and  with  the  truth.  And  surely,  my  friends, 
when  love  to  God  has  once  broken  through  the  iron  bands  of  selfishness, 
and  has  made  the.heait  familiar  with  the  holy  art  of  denying  itself,  and 
of  forgettmg  itself,  in  loving  self-surrender,  then  will  the  beautiful  flow- 
er,'? of  sympathetic  joy  and  sorrow,  as  of  themselves  unfold,  and  bring 
forth  the  refreshing  fruits  of  an  active  philanthropy. 

So  is  then  love  to  our  neighbor  that,  in  Vvhich  the  sincere  love  to  God 
pr»)sents  itself — in  which  the  Christian  life,  in  its  wider  progress,  moves, 
as  in  its  own  element. 

III.  But  when  it  is  perfected,  it  does  not  come  out  away  from  love, 
as  if  it  had  found  its  goal  in  something  else ;  but  the  2^6rfection  of  the 
Christian  life  is  nothing  else  but  the  perfection  of  love. 

"  Fear  is  not  in  love,"  says  John  ;  "  but  perfect  love  casteth  out  fear." 
When  the  apostle  now  adds,  as  a  reason,  "  For  fear  has  pain,"  his  opin- 
ion can  not  be  other  than  that  love  and  pain  are  conti-adictory  in  their 
nature  ;  that  with  love,  joy  and  blessedness  are  intimately  and  inseparably 
linked  ;  that  love  is  the  very  essence  of  blessedness.  Then  love,  when  it 
is  perfected,  must  necessarily  appear  as  blessedness ;  and  without  perfect 
love,  on  the  other  hand,  no  blessedness  is  conceivable.  And  this  is  so 
true,  that  God  himself,  were  he  without  love,  could  not  be  happy. 
But  who  could  so  much  as  think  of  this  contradiction  ?  God  is  blessed 
fi-om  eternity,  as  certainly  as  he  is  love  from  etei-nity.  For  from  eter- 
nity the  Son  is  with  the  Father,  participant  of  his  nature — united  with 
the  Father  in  the  closest,  most  blessed  communion  of  love ;  as  the  Son 
himself,  on  the  night  before  his  death,  solemnly  declared,  speaking  to 
the  Father:  "Thou  lovedst  me  before  the  foundation  of  the  world." 

Now  as  God  is  blessed  in  his  infinite  love,  so  we,  my  friends,  can  only 
be  blessed  where  our  love  is  perfect.  The  deepest  source  of  all  discon- 
tent and  of  all  trouble  in  our  earth!  v  life,  is  selfishness.     This  is  a  never- 


LOVE    THE    SUBSTAXCE    OF    CnRISTIAN    LIFE.  51 

resting  goad,  which  men,  in  hate  and  rage,  thrust  against  each  other, 
and  makes  one  the  tormentor  of  the  other.  This  is  a  consuming  fire 
within,  whose  greedy  flame  is  never  satisfied — a  worm  that  incessantly 
gnaws  at  the  noblest  seed  of  life.  This  is  an  ever-burning  kindler  of 
anxious  care,  of  painful  fear.  The  secret  anxiety  and  disquiet  cover 
themselves,  perhaps,  under  the  appearance  of  equanimity ;  they  drown 
themselves  in  the  rushing  pleasures  and  in  the  so-called  enjoyment  of 
life ;  but,  nevertheless,  they  are  there.  Give  him  who  is  hardened  in 
his  selfishness  what  his  heart  desires,  ofier  to  him  all  the  treasures  of  the 
world,  let  all  earthly  glory  gather  about  him — life  is  to  him  a  waste,  and 
his  existence  a  burden.  Yea ;  remove  that  soul,  poisoned  by  hate  and 
envy,  into  paradise,  let  it  dwell  in  heavenly  radiance,  and  eveiy  disturb- 
ance, every  sufiering  remain  far  from  him — paradise  itself  would  become, 
to  him  who  hates,  a  hell,  and,  in  the  midst  of  angels  and  blessed  men,  he 
vv'ould  be  his  own  devil.  "Therefore,"  says  John,  "he  that  loveth  not 
his  brother,  abideth  in  death."  Only  he  who  loves  is  capable  of  true 
happiness  of  soul.  O  !  if  love  were  to  have  a  perfect  sway  over  us — if 
we  could  wholly  and  forever  give  ourselves  up  to  the  holy  will  of  God  ; 
if  his  approbation  were  evermore  to  be  before  our  eyes ;  if  we  were  to 
live  solely  for  the  weal  of  our  brethren — then  should  we  have  the  stillest, 
holiest  peace  ;  then  would  our  heart  be  broad  and  rich,  and  our  neighbor's 
fortune  and  joy  would  at  all  times  be  ours,  and  his  pains  would  be  softer 
in  our  sympathies,  because  our  participation  would  alleviate  them ;  we 
should  then  have  the  holy  consciousness  that  our  communion  with  God 
is  perfect,  and  every  fear  of  God  and  of  the  mystenous  future  must  van- 
ish, and  with  it,  every  pain.  For  he  who  dwells  in  love,  dwells  in  God, 
and  God  in  him.  Why,  then,  should  not  all  earthly  disquiet  give  place 
to  the  holy  peace  of  heaven? 

I-3ut  let  us  confess,  my  brethren,  such  perfect  love  will,  here  on  earth, 
never  have  an  unchangeable  home  in  our  heart,  but  only  sometimes 
come  to  us  as  a  transient  visitor.  These  are  only  inspired  moments, 
when  our  soul  is  all  devotion,  and  self-denial,  and  self-sacrifice ;  when  our 
heart  humbles  itself  in  prayer  before  the  God  of  love,  that  it  may  become 
AvhoUy  his ;  when  we  are  ready  to  live  for  our  neighbors,  even  if  they, 
with  coldness  and  enmity,  turn  away  from  us.  Single  beams  of  heavenly 
light  are  they  which  fall  into  the  dusk  of  our  earthly  life,  exalting,  quick- 
ening, strengthening.  But  we  are  still  too  weak,  too  earthly,  to  hold 
them  fast  in  their  entire  purity  and  clearness.  There  is  something  ever 
within  us,  that  strives  against  them  ;  and  from  without,  the  want  of 
love,  the  injustice  and  the  hatred  of  other  men,  ever  anew  awaken  eelt- 
ish  impulses  in  our  soul.  The  power  of  sin,  though  broken,  is  not  yet 
annihilated.  Our  love  is  not  yet  perfect ;  and  so  there  ever  remains  in 
Our  heart  the  remnants  of  selfish  fear  and  sorrow. 

Or  does  the  apostle  think  diftcrently  ?  It  almost  appears  as  if  he  would 
require  and  expect  from  the  Christian  that  the  perfect  love  should  mani 


52  JULIUS    MULLER. 

fest  itself  even  "vrithin  the  limits  of  temporal  life,  as  a  permanent  state  and 
period ;  for  he  says,  reprovingly,  "  Whoever  fears  is  not  perfect  m  love." 
And  well  might  John  so  discourse,  in  the  evening  of  a  life  so  rich  in  love, 
conseci-ated  to  the  service  of  God  and  of  his  brethren.  Whatsoever 
obscures  the  purity  of  love,  had  almost  wholly  vanished  from  his  heart ; 
the  image  of  the  glory  of  his  master  which  he  had  once  beheld,  and 
which  had  never  after  gone  from  his  soul,  the  image  of  the  glory  of  the 
only-begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of  grace  and  truth,  was  reflected  more 
and  more  purely  from  his  holy  life ;  the  consummation  lay  close  before 
him ;  then  might  his  hopeful  assurance  grasp  it,  as  if  it  were  already 
present,  just  as  the  Apostle  Paul,  when  he  says:  "I  have  fought  the 
good  fight ;  I  have  finished  the  course ;  I  have  kept  the  faith ;  henceforth 
is  laid  up  for  me  the  crown  of  righteousness." 

But  let  the  thought  be  far  from  us,  that  the  apostle's  word  is  in  con 
flict  with  a  truth  which  the  consideration  of  the  life  of  man  preaches,  no 
less  loudly  than  the  examination  of  our  own  hearts ;  but  loudest  of  all  the 
Christian  faith  itself,  which  knows  of  but  a  single  perfect  one  upon  earth, 
with  the  truth  that  the  Christian  hfe  gains  its  true  perfection, — that  the 
love,  which  is  its  substance,  appears  in  its  full  blessed  might  and  great- 
ness,— only  when  the  kuagdom  of  God  becomes  manifest  in  its  everlasting 
glory.  "  Therein,"  says  John,  "  is  love  perfect  in  us ;" — ^this  "  is  the  pre- 
cious fruit  of  true  love,  which  unites  Christians  to  one  another, — that  they 
have  joy  in  the  day  of  judgment."  They  need  not  tremble  before  the  Son 
of  God,  to  whom  the  Father  has  given  all  judgment,  but  with  blessed  con- 
fidence they  shall  see  him  appear  as  Judge  of  the  world.  For  their  con- 
science gives  them  the  witness,  that,  as  he  is  the  image  of  the  Father,  who 
is  love,  so  they  have  been  in  this  world  in  their  most  earnest  endeavors, — 
so  are  theythen — in  that  world,  in  a  more  perfect  manner.  "  For  it  doth 
not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  ;  but  we  know  that  when  he  shall  appear 
we  shall  be  like  him" — like  him,  wholly  penetrated  with  love,  as  he  is. 
Then  only  can  we  see  him  as  he  is,  when  we  ourselves  are  wholly  love  ; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  only  when  we  see  him  as  he  is,  can  our  love  be- 
come perfect.  Then  will  the  last  vestige  of  fear  and  pain  have  vanished; 
for  perfect  love  has  cast  them  out.  In  the  most  intimate  communion 
with  God  and  his  triumphant  church,  the  perfected  ones  drink,  on  and 
on,  a  blessed  life  from  the  stream  of  love.  Far  remote  is  every  trouble ; 
no  discord  of  selfishness  and  hatred  can  here  intrude  ;  as  every  one  is 
wholly  love,  and  he  finds  in  all  othei's  only  love — all  one  in  one  love,  in 
one  blessedness. 

My  fi'iends,  there  is  something  very  great  in  the  faith  and  hope  of  the 
Christian ;  but  yet,  higher  than  both  stands  the  love.  For  only  in  love  do 
faith  and  hope  jn-ove  tlieir  truth,  their  divine  origin ;  and  they  are  des- 
tined finally  to  disappear,  that  only  love  may  i-emain.  If  faith  be  not 
active  through  love,  it  is  dead.  If  hope  be  any  thing  else  than  hoping 
love — if  it  have  not  the  perfect  revelation  of  love  itself,  for  its  main  ob- 


LOVE    THE    SUBSTANCE    OF    CHRISTIAN    LIFE.  53 

ject — it  is  clegraded  to  a  low  seeking  for  reward.  Faith,  and  the 
knowledge  springing  from  it,  will  cease  when  sight  comes;  hope  Avill 
cease  when  its  fulfilling  comes ;  but  love  never  ceases,  as  surely  as  bless- 
edness itself  can  not  cease. 

So  then  the  Christian  life  begins  with  love  to  God  through  Christ,  de- 
veloj^s  itself  in  love  for  the  neighbor,  and  is  consummated  in  the  per- 
fection of  this  twofold  love.  Surely  religion  justly  bears  the  beautiful 
name  which  is  sometimes  given  to  it,  the  name  of  the  religion  of  love. 
Then  may  our  life,  too,  deserve  to  be  called  a  Christian  life.  May  the 
weight  of  selfishness  and  ambition,  of  cold  indifference  to  the  neighbor's 
weal,  and  of  bitter  hatred  toward  those  who  injure  us,  more  and  more 
vanish  from  our  heart,  and  love  to  God  and  our  brethren  gain  a  stronger 
and  stronger  sway  witliin  us,  so  that  we  also,  when  ere  long  the  kingdom 
of  love  appears  in  its  consummation,  may  be  found  worthy  to  share  in  its 
glory !     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    III. 

O.   A.    HAKLESS,    D.  D. 

Dr.  Earless  combines  in  a  remarkable  degree  the  preacher  and  the  scholar,  the 
pulpit  orator  and  the  theological  instructor.  In  both  these  departments  he  shone 
with  distinction.  For  many  years  he  was  professor  at  Erlangeu,  Bavaria ;  then  pro- 
fessor and  university  preacher  at  Dresden,  where,  as  preacher,  he  showed  liimself  a 
very  able  defender  of  the  old  Lutheran  orthodoxy.  From  this  position  we  believe 
he  was  removed  by  being  made  court  preacher  at  Dresden,  as  Rheinhard  was  be- 
fore him,  for  his  pulpit  eloquence.  He  was  also  for  several  years  professor  in  the 
university  at  Leipzig,  and  at  the  same  time  preacher  in  one  of  the  city  churches. 
His  appointment  to  these  positions  was  considered  an  important  event,  from  its 
bearings  on  the  cause  of  evangelical  religion. 

Professor  Harless,  as  before  intipiated,  has  the  reputation  of  an  eminent  scholar, 
while  he  is  also  considered  one  of  the  most  eloquent  preachers  in  the  German  pul- 
pit of  the  present  day.  Many  of  his  sermons  are  characterized  by  great  fervor, 
liveliness  of  imagination,  figurative  allusion,  quickness  of  thought,  and  rapid  transi- 
tion from  point  to  point,  which  is  characteristic  of  the  German  preachers.  He  is 
firm  in  his  attachment  to  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  unshrinking  in  their  avowal,  and 
preaches  with  a  decision  and  a  power  which  it  is  difficult  to  resist.  He  is  the  author 
of  an  elaborate  commentary  on  the  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  which  appeared  in 
1832.  This  has  been  cited,  even  by  German  critics,  as  a  model  commentary.  It 
is  no  less  distinguished  for  its  orthodox  character  than  for  its  logical  and  pliilological 
acumen. 

In  1842  Dr.  Harless  published  a  system  of  Christian  Ethics,  which  in  four 
months  came  to  a  second  edition.  He  has  also  done  much  for  learning  and  reli- 
gioji,  as  editor  and  writer  for  able  periodicals  devoted  to  the  interests  of  Protest- 
antism and  pure  Christianity,  and  in  the  preparation  of  a  valuable  theological  En- 
cyclopjedia.  .The  sermon  found  below  is  from  his  volume,  "  Ohristi  Reich  und 
Christi  Kraft,'^  Zwanzig.  Predgtak.  Stuttg.,  1840.  It  is  the  ninth  sermon: 
title  "  In  Ghristo  Freude  alien  Volke."  It  is  a  Christmas  sermon ;  and  Harless, 
like  many  other  German  preachers,  discovers  great  ingenuity  in  the  choice  of  texts 
and  themes,  and  the  way  of  handUng,  as  a  land  of  necessity,  from  the  fact  that  the 
Lutheran  Church,  prescribes  a  series  of  Biblical  lessons — a  pericope — ^for  every  Sab- 
balh  and  religious  festival  of  the  year.  As  will  be  seen,  the  style  is  pure  and 
elevated,  while  the  course  of  thought  is  interesting  and  instructive. 


JOT    IN     CHRIST     FOR    ALL    NATIONS.  55 


JOY  IN  CHRIST  FOR  ALL  NATIONS. 

"  Glory  to  God  in  tlie  highest,  and  on  earth  peace  and  good  will  to 
men,"  Thus  spake  the  multitude  of  the  heavenly  host,  and  praised  God 
on  that  night  when  the  child  Jesus  was  born  of  Mary  in  Bethlehem.  In 
a  manger  lay  the  new-born  infant.  Little  Bethlehem  was  his  birth-place. 
In  despised  Palestine  was  the  child  born,  at  a  time  when  the  nations  of  the 
East  and  the  West  bowed  before  the  majesty  of  Rome's  universal  em- 
pire. Night  then  wrapped  the  circle  of  the  earth.  But  upon  the  spot 
where  this  infant  was  born,  there  shone  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  Not  one 
among  all  the  heathen  nations  then  had  any  apprehension  of  what  was 
signified  by  the  birth  of  that  poor  infant  in  that  despised  land.  But 
when,  three  hundred  years  afterward,  the  gods  of  the  empire  lay  prostrate 
in  the  dust  before  the  cross  whereon  he  of  Bethlehem  had  been  hung, 
then  was  it  known  wherefore  a  divine  glory  had  illumined  the  dark 
birth-place  of  this  little  child.  It  was  not  earthly  pomjD — not  earthly 
power  and  might  which  thus  constrained  the  world  to  homage.  Jesus 
of  Nazai'eth,  as  he  was  born  in  lowliness,  so  he  died  in  shame.  And 
yet  this  child,  by  the  simple  power  of  his  name,  subdued  the  distant 
isles  ;  before  the  brightness  of  his  rising  the  darkness  of  the  heathen 
world  fled  away  ;  and  at  this  day  millions  in  every  zone  are  with  us 
bending  their  knees,  and  in  company  with  the  heavenly  hosts  are  prais- 
ing God,  and  celebrating  the  birth  of  this  child,  who  came  into  the 
world  poor  and  despised,  in  order  that  he  might  conquer  a  world  with 
no  other  weapon  than  that  of  his  love.  Let  our  hearts  exult  and  be 
glad !  O  Lord  God  we  praise  thee.  We  thank  thee.  Lord  God  Ave 
supplicate  thee.  Draw  near  to  us  with  the  fullness  of  thy  grace,  and 
bless  this  day's  festival.  Help  us  to  think  on  thy  word,  and  to  expe- 
rience its  power  in  our  hearts.     Amen. 

"  And  there  were  in  the  same  country  shepherds  abiding  in  the  field,  keeping  watcli 
over  their  flock  by  night,"  etc. — Luke,  ii.  8-11. 

The  Lord  our  Saviour,  who  has  apjieared  on  earth,  and  also  is  to-day 
in  the  midst  of  us,  bless  him  who  speaks,  and  those  who  hear,  with  hoi y 
festive  joy.     Amen. 

"  Behold  I  bring  to  you  great  joy,  which  shall  be  unto  all  people." 
Such  is  the  message  which  the  angel  announced,  and  which  from  thence 
onward  is  borne  through  all  lands.  Joy  to  all  people — this  is  the  im- 
port of  the  birth  of  our  Lord.  For  it  is  :  1.  A  divine  message  to  the 
lowly.  2.  Consolation  to  the  fearful.  3.  A  satisfaction  for  the  longing 
of  each  hidividual.  4.  A  revelation  of  salvation  to  the  whole  world. 
To  these  topics,  drawn  from  the  words  of  our  text,  let  us  endeavor  to 
direct  our  attention,  looking  to  God  for  his  gracious  assistance  and 
blessing. 


56  C.    A.    nARLESS. 

I.  "  And  there  were  in  the  same  country  sJiepherds  abiding  in  the  field, 
keeping  watch  over  their  flochs  by  night.'''' 

In  these  words  the  evangelist  records  the  first  announcement  which 
was  made  to  the  people  of  the  birth  of  Christ,  An  angel  of  the  Lord 
brings  the  heavenly  tidings,  and  the  glory  of  a  visible  manifestation  is 
.not  wanting  to  confirm  the  divine  nature  of  those  tidings  to  the  hearers. 
But  to  whom  are  the  tidings  brought  ?  Scribes  and  Pharisees  were 
then  in  the  land,  sitting  in  Moses'  seat.  They  made  broad  their  phy- 
lacteries, and  enlai'ged  the  borders  of  their  garments ;  they  took  the 
upper  seats  at  the  feasts,  and  in  the  schools  ;  and  were  greeted  in  the 
streets  as  Rabbi — as  doctors  of  the  law — as  the  wise  of  the  nation.  But 
the  angel  of  the  Lord  passed  them  by.  There  was  Herod,  the  ruler  of 
the  land,  arrayed  in  royal  pomp  ;  with  him  was  power  ;  servants  bowed 
to  his  will ;  and  what  he  commanded,  that  was  done  ;  but  the  angel 
of  the  Lord  passed  him  by.  There  were  the  rich  of  the  land  in  soft 
raiment :  the  Sadducees  with  their  "  pride  of  life,"  and  the  wisdom  of 
their  schools  ;  but  the  angel  of  the  Lord  passed  them  by.  He  passed 
by  the  wise,  the  noble,  and  the  mighty  of  the  land,  and  came  to  the 
poor  shepherds  upon  the  field,  in  order  to  announce  to  them  the  great 
joy  which  should  be  unto  all  people.  But  wherefore  to  so  few,  when 
the  event  concerned  all  people  ?  And  how  can  that  w^hich  is  proclaimed 
to  a  few  be  a  joy  to  all  people  ? 

Wh}  the  first  proclamation  came  to  so  few  can  not,  indeed,  bo  ex- 
plained from  the  current  opinions  of  the  world.  Thus  we  find  that  those 
who  lift  their  heads  to  the  stars,  and  are  wise  in  their  own  conceit, 
believe  themselves  entitled,  before  all  others,  to  that  hidden  wisdoiu 
which  cometh  from  above.  Here,  those  who  cherish  high  thoughts 
deem  themselves  highly  esteemed  of  God  also,  and  the  more  presumptu- 
ous their  thoughts  are,  the  more  excellent  they  judge  themselves  to  be. 
Had  the  world,  therefore,  been  permitted  to  select  those  to  whom  God's 
message  should  come,  it  would  have  brought  that  message  to  the  rulers 
of  the  people — to  its  sages,  and  its  mighty  ones.  But  God  thought  not 
so.  He  looked  upon  the  lowly  in  the  land,  "and  the  foolish  things  of  the 
world  hath  he  chosen  to  confound  the  wise  ;  and  the  base  things  of  the 
world,  and  things  which  are  despised,  hath  God  chosen  ;  yea,  and  things 
which  are  not.  to  bring  to  naught  things  that  are."  For  the  wise  of  this 
world  rest  in  their  own  conceits ;  they  have  no  regard  for  that  hidden 
wisdom  which  consists  not  in  the  pomp  of  words  ;  and  being  taken  up 
with  their  own  gloiy,  and  receiving  honor  one  from  another  without 
seeking  the  honor  which  cometh  from  God  only,  they  challenge  divine 
knowledge  with  the  inquiry,  "  Can  any  good  come  out  of  Nazareth  ?" 
And  the  mighty  and  the  insolent,  who  with  contemptuous  shrug  ask, 
"  What  is  truth  ?"  these  mock  thu  miracles  of  the  living  God,  and  in  their 
self-satisfaction,  have  no  regard  foi-  that  God  from  whoni  alone  all  good 


JOr    IN     CHRIST     POR    ALL    NATIONS.  57 

cometh.  Now,  what  has  the  message  of  the  Lord  to  do  with  these  ? 
Living  as  they  do,  satiated  and  secure  in  the  midst  of  their  pleasures 
why  should  it  proclaim  to  them  as  a  thing  of  joy,  that  a  poor  child  lay 
born  in  a  manger.  So  the  angel  of  the  Lord  passed  by  the  wise  and  the 
mighty,  who  afterward  scorned  and  crucified  the  Lord.  The  rulers  of  the 
land,  the  Pharisees,  and  the  Sadducees,  slept  in  the  darkness  of  the  night ; 
but  to  the  poor  shepherds  of  the  field  the  angel  comes,  and  round  aboiii 
tlwn  shines  the  glory  of  the  Lord. 

But  even  in  this  fact,  we  already  perceive  why  the  tidhigs  which  the 
angel  brings,  are  a  "joy  to  all  people."  For,  we  are  not  to  infer,  that  be- 
cause God  sent  the  angel  of  his  grace  only  to  a  few  with  the  joyful  tidings, 
he  tlierefore  really  meant  to  open  the  treasures  of  his  pity  only  to  a  few. 
This  inference  would  be  false, — conti-ary  to  the  whole  doctrine  of  tlu  gos- 
pel, to  wit,  that  God  wishes  all  to  be  saved  ;  it  would  be  a  mockery  of  the 
statement  that  the  angel  proclaimed  joy  to  all  people.  Nor  yet  does  our 
text  mean  that  the  wise,  the  miglity,  and  the  rich,  are  therefore  lightly 
esteemed  before  God,  and  that  only  the  mean  and  tlie  lowly,  the  ignorant 
and  the  weak  obtain  his  favor.  For  wisdom,  and  might,  and  riches,  are 
also  the  gifts  of  divine  goodness ;  and  we  are  told  that  Nicodemus,  the 
ruler  of  the  Jews,  and  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  a  rich  man,  both  loved 
the  Lord,  and  though  powerful  and  wealthy,  were  loved  by  him  in  turn  ; 
while  the  humble  of  the  people  sided  with  the  haters  of  Christ,  and, 
together  Avith  the  Pharisees  and  high  priests,  shouted,  "  Crucify  him,  cru- 
cify him."  But  the  import  of  that  divine  embassy  to  the  poor  shepherds, 
and  that  which  renders  it  a  joy  to  all  people,  is  this,  that  no  earthly 
distinctions  ai'e  regarded  by  God  in  his  message  of  salvation  ;  that 
neither  riches,  nor  might,  nor  wisdom  do  qualify  a  person  for  receiving 
the  heavenly  knowledge ;  yea,  that  only  such  rich,  wise,  and  mighty  ones 
are  deemed  worthy  to  hear  the  news  of  salvation  unto  their  own  joy, 
who,  so  far  as  the  angel  of  God  and  his  message  are  concerned,  have  no 
more,  and  no  less  than  the  poor  shepherds  had  upon  the  field.  It  is  an 
indescribable  consolation  to  know  that  what  avails  before  God  is  not  that 
which  the  world  prizes  most,  and  which  only  a  few  are  privileged  to  ob- 
tain ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  that  it  is  something  which  all  can  have,  be 
they  rich  or  poor,  mighty  or  lumible,  learned  or  ignorant,  namely,  that 
simple  lowliness  of  heart,  which  fears  the  Lord  alone.  For  this  reason 
is  the  announcement  of  the  angel  a  joy  unto  all  people,  because  it  is  the 
divine  message  unto  the  lowly,  to  that  lowliness  of  spirit  which  may  be 
ound  in  every  condition,  and  in  every  measure  of  spiritual  gifts,  and 
which  alone  is  endued  with  grace,  because  it  alone  preserves  the  heart 
humble  and  reverential  toward  God. 

II,  But  of  the  shepherds,  who  heard  the  message  of  the  angel,  it  is 
further  said  in  our  text,  "  and  then  ^'^^^"^  ^^re  afraid.  And  the  angel 
saidtmtq  them.,  Fear  not  .'for.,  behold.,  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great 
.^0%}.,  which  shall  be  to  all  people.^ 


58  C.    A.    HARLESS. 

So  the  tidings  of  great  joy  first  awakened  alarm.  Not  that  they  were 
intended  to  alarm.  On  the  conti-ary,  to  the  fearful  the  angel  proclaimed 
joy,  and  this  joy  did  also  afterward  pervade  the  hearts  of  the  shepherds 
themselves ;  for  we  read  that  "  the  sliejiherds  returned  glorifying  and 
praising  God  for  all  the  things  that  they  had  heard  and  seen,  as  it 
was  told  unto  them."  But  yet  the  divine  revelation  of  joy  came  not 
without  fear;  yea,  as  it  would  be  unnatural  for  man  to  Hsten  to  God's 
Aoice  without  fear,  so  the  joy  which  the  angel  brings  to  all  people,  is  seen 
to  lie  in  this  very  circumstance,  that  fear  in  this  case  does  not  hinder  a 
participation  in  the  joy  awakened  by  the  gosj^el  tidings.  But  this  fear  is 
unlike  that  which  is  felt  by  the  worldly-wise  and  self-righteous  at  the 
revelations  of  God.  To  such,  this  divine  wisdom  is  pre-eminently  ob- 
noxious, since  it  jmts  their  wisdom  to  shame,  and  2>i'eaches  that  God's 
thoughts  are  not  like  man's  thoughts.  Furthermore,  they  are  alarmed  at 
the  possibiUty,  that  what  they  deny  may  prove  to  be  true.  Such  fears 
are  anticipations  of  the  coming  judgment,  and  woe  to  them  whose  secu- 
rity, whether  occasioned  by  afiectation  or  stupidity,  is  interrupted  by 
nothing  save  the  paroxysms  of  this  fear !  On  the  contrary,  the  alarm 
which  the  shepherds  experienced,  is  inseparable  from  humility  and  sim- 
plicity of  heart.  Pride  scorns  to  be  moved  even  by  high  things,  but 
humility  is  always  mindful  of  its  own  low  estate;  and  every  approach  of 
God  fills  it  with  trembling  awe  Nor  is  there  always  needed  for  this 
visible  manifestation,  some  messenger  who  shall  deliver  God's  commands. 

The  simple  declaration,  "  God  will  speak  to  thee,"  or,  "  God  has  spoken 
to  thee,"  is  of  itself  sufiicient  to  awaken  fear  in  the  sincere  and  lowly  mind  ; 
for  there  is  no  true  humility  among  men  which  does  not  rest  fundaments 
ally  upon  the  consciousness  of  guilt.  For  those  whose'  hearts  have  not 
been  hardened  by  vain  and  shameless  trifling,  can  not  but  be  startled  to 
learn  that  God  has  a  word  to  speak  unto  them.  All  who  know  them- 
selves in  true  humility,  will  feel  as  did  our  first  parents,  who,  when  they 
heard  the  voice  of  the  Lord  God  walking  in  the  garden,  being  frightened, 
hid  themselves,  under  the  vivid  apprehension  of  what  they  had  deserved. 
Accordingly  the  natural  eflect  which  the  appearance  of  the  angel  had 
upon  the  simple-minded  shepherds,  was  not  to  excite  in  them  a  vain  con- 
ceit of  their  own  importance,  in  having  been  honored  with  such  a  sight ; 
but  they  feared  and  trembled,  and  their  hearts  sank  down  before  the 
ho'liuess  of  God's  presence ;  and  hence  it  was  that  their  fear  oifered  no 
hinderance  to  the  reception  of  the  joyful  tidings;  "for  the  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom."  God  resisteth  the  proud,  but  he 
giveth  grace  unto  the  humble  ;  it  is  the  broken  heart  and  the  contrite 
sj)irit  Avhich  God  does  not  despise.  That  which  the  xoorld  calls  joy  and 
happiness,  ever  belongs  to  the  proud  and  lofty  spirit,  to  confident  bold- 
ness ;  but  the  joy  which  comes  from  God — the  joy  which  the  angels  once 
proclaimed — this  joy  is  vouchsafed  to  the  poor  in  spirit  alone ;  for  their 
fear  is  a  proof  that  they  still  have  a  sense  of  their  own  humility,  and  of 


JOY    IN     CHRIST     FOR    ALL    NATIONS,  59 

the  holy  majesty  of  the  living  God.  But  now  there  is  no  man  who  may 
not  be  supposed  to  have  cause  for  fearing  the  voice  of  God  ;  there  is  none 
who  would  not  be  constrained  to  bow  his  face  to  the  earth  with  trembling, 
at  the  assurance  that  God  intends  to  speak  with  him  ;  there  is  none  who 
has  not  reason  to  be  exceedingly  anxious  in  regard  to  that  which  God 
might  purpose  to  say  unto  him  ;  but,  behold,  to  the  frightened  shepherds 
the  angel  said,  "  fear  not."  And  in  these  words  is  it  announced  to  all 
fearful  ones,  yea,  to  the  whole  human  race,  that  there  is  no  ground  for 
fearing  their  God — that  to  the  timorous  and  dismayed,  consolation  is 
preached,  and  great  joy  is  proclaimed,  which  shall  be  unto  all  people,  be- 
cause all  people  have  reason  to  tremble  before  the  messenger  of  the  holy 
God. 

III.  But  joy  has  come  to  all  nations  in  the  birth  of  Chi'ist  because,  as  the 
angel  said,  "  Unto  you  is  horn  this  day^  in  the  city  of  David,  a  Saviour, 
which  is  Christ  the  Lord?''  To  you,  he  says,  he  is  born,  and  in  .this  he 
expresses  a  truth  M'hich  is  designed  to  dissipate  our  fears.  The  announce- 
ment of  the  angel  inspires  joy,  because  it  proclaims  the  fulfillment  of  a 
long-cherished  desire.  To  you,  the  angel  said,  is  the  Saviour  born,  and 
gives  them  the  news  as  of  somethmg  long  kno^\ni  and  looked  for ;  he 
calls  tlie  new-born  by  an  old  familiar  name  ;  he  designates  him  by  the 
city,  of  which  the  prophet  Micah  had  already  long  since  spoken.  "  But 
thou,  Bethlehem  Ephratah,  though  thou  be  little  among  the  thousands 
of  Judah,  yet  out  of  thee  shall  he  come  forth  unto  me  that  is  to  be  ruler 
in  Israel ;  whose  goings  forth  have  been  from  of  old,  from  everlasting." 
So  the  new  event  came  in  as  the  fulfillment  of  the  old  longing  and  hope 
of  Israel — as  the  realization  of  that  hope  of  Abraham,  concerning  which 
Christ  spake  when  he  said,  "  Your  father  Abraham  rejoiced  lo  see  my 
day;  and  he  saw  it,  and  Avas  glad;"  and  in  the  circumstance  that  the 
angel  announced  the  wondrous  event  in  the  very  language  of  the  old 
expectation,  we  have  given  to  us  the  assurance  that  in  those  shepherds 
there  still  survived  the  faith  and  hope  of  Abraham.  Therefore,  were 
their  hearts  also  gladdened  by  the  words  of  the  angel,  and  they  went 
with  haste,  and  came,  and  found  the  child,  upon  whose  shoulder  the  do- 
minion sat,  and  returned,  glorifying  and  praising  God.  Their  humble 
faith  cleaved  to  the  words  of  the  angel  and  stumbled  not  at  the  lowliness 
of  the  new-born  Lord  of  glory,  but  at  the  very  hour  of  the  infant's  birth 
it  celebrated  the  moment  when  their  holy  longing  passed  into  fulfillment. 

Now,  indeed,  there  lives  no  more  in  the  hearts  of  men  the  same  long- 
ing, the  same  desire,  which  filled  the  shepherds'  hearts.  .  The  hope  ot 
the  heathen  is  not  the  revival  of  Israel's  hope  under  its  ancient  form ;  nor 
are  we  now  educated  among  the  promises  of  one  who  is  yet  to  come. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  felt  in  every  person  a  longing  of  some  kind  ;  yet 
a  longing  oftentimes  misundei'stood,  anxious,  and  suppressed,  for  which 
the  only  true  satisfaction  has  been  proffered  in  the  message  of  the  angel 


60  0.    A.    EARLESS. 

So  long  as  man  inquires  of  himself  merely,  never  will  he  be  able  rightly 
to  solve  the  riddle  of  those  ferments  and  struggles  which  are  ever  at 
work,  deeply  shut  up  in  his  own  breast.  He  feels  only  the  dark  stress 
of  a  certain  disquietude,  of  a  want'of  enjoyment,  of  a  striving  after  an 
unattained  end — after  a  rest  not  found  wdiich  he  seeks  in  a  thousand 
ways  to  satisfy — and  after  a  thousand  attempts  must  still  confess  that  it 
is  all  in  vain.  For  this  fever  of  desire  springs  out  of  that  unrecognized 
curse  which  rests  upon  the  sin  of  man  ;  and  so  long  as  man  does  not 
perceive  this  hidden  cause  of  his  uneasiness,  so  long  will  he  be  ever 
seeking  rest,  and  finding  none,  and  sigh  for  it  in  vain.  But  as  soon  as 
that  word  is  found  Avhich  solves  the  riddle  of  this  anxious  struggle ;  as 
soon  as  it  is  known  that  it  is  the  curse  of  sin  which  rests  upon  us,  that 
it  is  the  judgment  of  God  whose  burden  Ave  experience — a  judgment 
fi:om  which  no  man  can  protect  or  redeem  us ;  then  do  Ave  realize  AA'hat 
a  blessedness  it  is  to  hear  God's  Avord,  saying,  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  for 
unto  you  also  has  a  Saviour  been  born." 

But  in  order  to  aAvaken  such  desires  for  a  Saviour,  God  has  never 
ceased  to  sound  forth  the  voice  of  his  laAV  unto  each  individual ;  for  even 
among  those  Avhom  the  Avords  of  revelation  have  not  reached,  there  is 
still  to  be  heard  in  each  person  the  voice  of  the  law^  written  in  the  heart, 
proceeding  from  God — even  the  voice  of  the  divine  conscience  Avhich 
bears  witness  to  man's  apostacy  from  God — to  the  guilt  AA^hich  rests  upon 
him,  and  to  that  righteous  judgiiient  which  he  has  deserved.  And  even 
the  very  curse  which  God  has  imposed  upon  sin  in  this  life,  proves  a 
blessing  in  the  fact  that  all  sinful  strivings  are  accompanied  by  a  restless 
eagerness,  and  by  a  sense  of  dreariness  and  emptiness  which  distui'bs  the 
sinner,  ever  and  again,  even  in  the  midst  of  seeming  repose,  and  causes 
him  to  feel  that  the  gratification  of  his  lusts  secures  to  him  any  thing 
but  rest.  This  curse  is  indeed  a  messenger  from  God — the  angel  Avith 
the  draAvn  SAVOrd  Avho  bars  the  gates  of  paradise  to  sinful  man,  and  drives 
him  out  into  the  wilderness,  in  order  that  he  there  may  learn,  in  the 
midst  of  its  sorroAvs  and  trials,  to  sigh  for  his  lost  paradise,  and  for  that 
Prince  of  Peace  Avho  shall  open  again  to  him  the  closed  portals.  But  to 
us  Avho  have  been  born  and  baptized  in  the  bosom  of  Christendom  ;  to 
us  does  the  Avord  of  God  clearly  exhibit  the  truth,  that  as  we  have  been 
united  to  God  by  this  strong,  tAA'ofold  bond,  all  the  heavenward  long- 
ings Avhich  may  be  awakened  in  us,  can  find  their  satisfaction  only  in  com- 
munion Avith  our  Saviour.  I  say  oitr  SaAnour,  for  his,  indeed,  we  are 
through  the  mystic  bond  of  our  baptism.  From  thence  onAvard,  up 
from  the  first  days  of  our  childhood  to  the  present,  is  the  spirit  of  our 
reconciled  God  ever  active  in  us,  convincing  us  of  sin  because  Ave  believe 
not  in  the  Son,  and  of  judgment,  because  the  prince  of  this  Avorld  is 
'udged ;  never  ceasing  to  strive  with  us  if  so  be  our  eyes  might  be 
opened  to  behold  our  wretchedness,  and  our  hearts  made  Avilling  to  cm- 
brace,  with  earnest  longing,  him  Avho  left  the  glory  of  the  Father  in 


JOY    IN     CHRIST     FOR     ALL    NATIONS.  61 

order  to  become  our  Saviour,  and  who  became  a  babe,  poor  and  lowly, 
in  order  to  lift  us  out  of  our  poverty  and  lowliness,  and  out  of  the 
misery  of  our  sin,  to  heal  our  inward  woe,  and  to  still  the  secret  sighing 
of  the  creature  with  his  own  everlasting  peace.  On  this  account  may 
we,  and  must  we,  also  this  day  declare  that  the  message  of  the  angel  is  joy 
to  all  nations  inasmuch  as  in  the  Saviour,  and  in  that  word  which  testi- 
fies of  him,  not  only  is  the  mystery  of  our  sighing  explained,  but  also 
our  liomesick  yearnings  find  their  jtevfeot  satisfaction  through  the  won- 
derful grace  of  God. 

But  whether  this  longing  is  felt  and  recognized  by  individuals,  or  not ; 
whether  they  are  drawn  to  God,  and  are  reconciled  to  him  through 
Christ,  or  not,  it  nevertheless  remains  true,  that  there  is  joy  to  all  nations ' 
in  Christ,  since  in  him  has  salvation  become  perfectly  manifest  to  the 
whole  world.  The  glory  of  that  birth  which  we  rejoice  in,  depends  not 
for  its  luster  on  the  conduct  of  those  tor  whom  this  child  appeared. 
Though  thousands  may  resist  the  dra^\angs  of  the  Spirit,  and  stifle  the 
true  yearnings  of  their  hearts ;  though  the  whole  world  become  re-  j 
hellions  and  deny  Christ,  yet  the  glory  of  that  salvation  which  has  ap-' 
peared  in  him  will  become  none  the  less  bright.  For  whether  we  requite 
love  with  ingratit  ide  and  hate,  or  not,  this  lessens  not  in  the  least  the 
glory  of  that  love  itself;  for  out  fi-om  the  night  of  our  ingratitude  and 
hate  it  will  shine  forth  only  the  more  radiantly.  Now  in  the  incarnation 
of  Christ  the  eternal  love  of  God  has  reached  such  a  degree  as  to  have  in 
itself  a  perfect  glory — as  to  be  in  itself  a  salvation  for  the  whole  world  ; 
for  that  Being  whom  the  angel  proclaimed  as  the  Saviour  he  also  named 
Christ  the  Lord.  But  if  he  calls  the  Lord  a  Saviour — a  Deliverer — a 
Beatifier,  then  must  every  thing  which  belongs  to  this  Lord  have  part  in 
that  salvation  which  the  Lord  brings. 

But  what  is  there  which  belongs  not  to  this  Lord  ?  for  Jesus  Christ  is 
he  through  whom  "all  things  were  created,  that  are  in  heaven  and  that 
are  in  earth,  visible  and  invisible,  whether  they  be  thrones,  or  dominions, 
or  principalities,  or  powers;  all  things  were  created  by  him  and  for  him. 
And  he  is  before  all  things,  and  by  him  all  things  consist."  Now  all  this 
has  in  its  proper  Lord  its  Saviour  also,  and  that  too,  not  merely  accord- 
ing to  the  measure  in  which  it  turns  toward  him ;  rather  it  found  in  him 
a  Saviour  when  as  yet  it  was  fearfully  hostile  to  him  ;  even  while  the 
shadows  of  death  were  still  covering  the  whole  world,  then  was  this  Sav- 
iour, even  the  Lord  and  Creator  of  this  whole  world,  already  born  into 
it  as  a  poor  child.  For  he  became  man  for  the  sake  of  dying  for  the 
world,  in  order  by  him  to  reconcile  all  things  unto  himself;  by  him  I  say 
whether  they  be  things  in  earth  or  things  in  heaven,  having  made  peace 
through  the  blood  of  his  cross.  Through  himself  did  Clu-ist  become  the 
Saviour  of  the  whole  world  in  that  he  voluntarily  humbled  himself,  and 
by  suffering  for  the  world  turned  God's  love  toward  it  in  himself  For 
now  henceforth  the  Father  loves  the  whole  human  race  in  the  incarnate 


62  C.    A.    HARLESS. 

Siivioui'.  God  hath  built  himself  a  tabernacle  in  that  Son,  in  whom  the 
Father  is  well  pleased,  and  in  this  he  dwells  once  more  with  his  grace 
among  the  children  of  men.  In  that  Son  who  sanctified  himself  for  the 
Morld  is  the  miholy  world  atoned  for ;  so  that  not  only  do  the  cnrse  and 
the  judgment  of  God  no  more  burden  the  world,  but  the  light  of  divine 
grace  also  shines  upon  all  nations,  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  even  to  the 
going  down  of  the  same.  Therefore  may  the  whole  world  boast  that  in 
that  Lord  who  became  a  Saviour,  heaven  and  earth  have  found  salvation  ; 
that  an  eternal,  unchangeable  salvation  has  been  proffered  to  the  world 
in  that  child,  of  whom  the  Scripture  saith :  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that 
he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  Mm  might 
have  everlasting  life."  And  this  salvation  for  all  the  world  was  born  in  that 
child,  whose  birth  we  this  day  celebrate,  even  in  Christ,  who  is  a  joy  unto 
all  people. 

Now  beloved,  consider  whether  he,  who  has  brought  joy  unto  all 
people,  is  indeed  the  joy  of  your  heart  also ;  for  then  only  have  you  a  part 
in  that  salvation  which  has  appeared  to  all  the  world  in  Christ.  He  only 
can  rejoice  in  the  Saviour  who  knows  his  need  of  a  Saviour,  and  believes 
from  the  heart  that  in  Christ  his  Saviour  was  born  unto  him.  But  such 
foith  sprmgs  only  out  of  the  lively  recognition  of  our  own  poverty,  low- 
liness and  corruption  ;  for  then  Ave  tremble  before  the  holiness  of  God, 
yet,  at  the  same  time,  also,  out  of  our  very  hearts'  depths  do  we  sigh  for 
God,  the  helping  Saviour.  Such  sighing  will  surely  and  eficctually 
be  hushed.  Do  not  regret  that  you  can  no  more  go  with  shepherds  and 
worship  at  the  manger-crib  of  this  babe.  For  the  babe  which  was  born, 
and  died,  is  now  risen  to  the  right  hand  of  the  majesty  on  high.  From 
hence  he  reigns  in  power,  and  is  ever  present  with  those  who  call  on  his 
name,  not  as  a  pooi*,  weak  babe,  but  as  the  Saviour  of  the  world  clothed 
v/ith  all  might.  And  that  fellowship  he  now  holds  with  his  own  is  not  a 
transient,  visible  presence,  but  the  abiding  communion  of  his  Holy  SjOTit 
and  glorified  body,  miraculous  in  its  working  and  full  of  spiritual  blessing, 
both  for  the  souls  and  bodies  of  his  faithful  ones.  May  God  grant  that, 
with  this  child,  we  too  become  as  children  in  true  spiritual  poverty  and 
lowliness,  in  order  that  we,  with  him,  may  learn  to  deny  ourselves,  and 
live  not  unto  ourselves  but  unto  him  ;  so  shall  we  also  obtain,  for  his  sake, 
the  life  in  him  who  comes  from  God ;  and  as  the  redeemed  of  the  Son,  as 
the  members  of  that  body,  of  which  he  is  the  head,  shall  we  be  raised 
to  the  enjoyment  of  that  eternal  glory  to  which  the  Son  himself  returned 
through  poverty,  in  order  that  he  might  introduce  thither  all  who  lova 
his  appearing ! 


DISCOURSE    IV 

CARL     IM  MANUEL     NITZSCH,    D.D. 

We  have  already  given  some  particulars  as  to  the  University  of  Halle  (sketch  of 
Tholuck) ;  and,  passing  over  now  to  Berlin,  a  few  facts  here  may  be  of  interest.  The 
University  of  Berlin,  although  one  of  the  youngest,  occupies  the  first  rank,  not  only 
in  G-ermany,  but  in  the  world.  It  was  founded  in  1810,  at  the  time  of  the  deepest 
humiliation  of  Prussia,  and  became  one  of  the  means  of  its  intellectual,  moral,  and 
national  regeneration,  which  resulted  in  the  Anctorious  emancipation  from  the  yoke 
of  the  French  conqueror  in  1813-14.  Frederic  William  III.  assigned  for  its  use 
a  magnificent  palace  in  the  finest  part  of  the  city,  with  endowments  and  many 
privileges,  which  his  successor,  Frederic  WiUiam  IV.,  an  enthusiastic  patron  of  litera- 
ture and  art,  greatly  increased.  It  numbers  ovei  one  hundred  and  sixty  teachers, 
and  nearly  two  thousand  students. 

In  0  university  was  ever  favored  with  such  a  galaxy  of  distinguished  scholars  as 
Berlin  during  the  last  fifty  years.  The  very  first  masters,  in  every  department  of 
science,  have  taught  there  together,  or  in  succession,  from  the  beginning,  and  are 
teaching  in  part  to  this  day.  Among  the  theologians,  are  the  well-known  names 
of  Schleiermacher,  Neander,  Marheineke,'  De  Wette,  Twesten,  Hengstenberg, 
Theremin,  and  Nitzsch.  Distinguished  among  those  who  now  fiU  the  theological 
chairs,  is  the  last-named  professor,  who  is  at  Berlin  much  what  Dr.  Tholuck  is  at 
Halle. 

Dr.  Nitzsch  was  born  September  21,  1787,  two  years  before  Neander  and  Twes- 
ten, and  the  very  year  of  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution  of  the  United 
States.  His  father,  Carl  Ludwig,  was  Greneral  Superintendent  and  first  Director  of 
the  Theological  Seminary  at  Wittenberg,  the  birth-place  of  the  Lutheran  Reforma- 
tion. The  son  received  the  thorough  classical  training  foi-  wliich  the  schools  of 
Saxony  and  Prussia  are  distinguished.  His  principal  theological  teacher  was,  prob- 
ably, Reinhard.  He  commenced  public  hfe,  in  1812,  as  deacon  of  that  venerable 
castle-church  at  whose  gates  Luther  affixed  the  famouus  Ninety-five  Theses  against 
tlie  indulgences  of  the  Dominican  mountebank  Tctzel.  Subsequently  he  became 
superintendent  and  theological  professor  of  the  seminary  at  Wittenberg.  In  1817 
he  received  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Theology  from  the  theological  faculty  in  the 
University  at  BerHn.  In  1820  he  became  "  Propst"  at  Kemberg;  and  in  1822  was 
called  to  Bonn  as  professor  "  ordinarius,"  and  university  preacher.  Here  he  spent 
the  years  of  his  manhood,  as  the  acknowledged  head  of  the  theological  faculties  and 
the  chief  attraction  to  the  students.  He  took,  at  the  same  time,  an  active  interest 
in  all  the  practical  questions  and  affairs  of  the  chui-ch  in  the  western  provinces  of 
Prussia.     In  1847,  he  accepted  a  call  to  Berlin  to  fill  the  vacancy  created  in  the 


64  CARL    IMMANUEL    NITZSCH. 

theological  faculty  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Marheineke.  He  is  now  the  oldest  divine 
of  that  university,  but  as  active  and  energetic  as  ever.  In  addition  to  his  lectures. 
he  preaches,  once  in  two  weeks,  to  the  professors  and  students,  and  attends  the 
sessions  of  the  Obei-kirchenrath,  of  which  he  is  a  regular  member.  Quite  recently 
he  was  elected  also  Propst  (provost)  of  St.  Nicolai. 

As  a  theological  author,  Nitzsch  is  best  known  by  his  "System  der  ClirMKclien 
Lehre,''  or,  System  of  Christian  Doctrine,  which  appeared  first  in  1828.  It  struck 
out  a  new  path  in  the  hne  of  didactic  theology.  It  gives,  with  compressed  brevity, 
an  exhibition  of  Christian  dogmatics  and  ethics,  as  an  undivided  system  of  life.  He 
also  published,  in  1837,  a  work  (yet  unfinished)  on  Practical  Theology,  besides 
which  he  put  forth,  between  the  years  1815  and  1848,  six  collections  of  sermons. 
Nitzsch  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  ablest  champions  of  Protestantism  against  the 
powerful  attack  of  Mohler's  Symbolik.  His  articles  on  the  subject,  first  published 
in  the  "  Studien  und  Kritiken"  and  then  in  separate  book  forms,  in  1835,  enriched 
by  one  hundred  Protestant  theses,  greatly  extended  his  reputation.  He  prepared  a 
similar  series  of  articles  against  the  infidel  dogmatics  of  Strauss.  He  has  also  writ- 
ten a  number  of  Latin  dissertations,  and  is  one  of  the  founders  and  frequent  con- 
tributors to  the  three  theological  journals,  the  "  Studien  und  Kritiken,"  the  "Bonner 
Monatschrift,"  and  the  "  Deutsche  Zeitschrift  fur  Christl.  Wissenshaft  und  Cliristl. 
Leben." 

As  a  lecturer,  Nitzsch  has  the  singular  habit  of  half-buttoning  and  unbuttoning 
his  coat,  and  taking  snuff"  at  regular  intervals.  But  the  sense  of  ridicule  is  kept 
down  by  his  dignified  and  venerable  appearance,  and  the  excellent  matter  of  his 
lectures  on  the  various  branches  of  systematic  and  practical  theology.  He  has 
probably  more  personal  influence  upon  the  students  than  any  of  his  colleagues.  Of 
all  the  Grerman  divines  still  living,  it  is  said  that  there  is  no  one  who  carries  with 
him  so  much  moral  weight  in  his  personal  appearance  as  Dr.  Nitzsch.  Hengsten- 
berg  may  surpass  in  energy  and  decision  of  will,  but  Nitzsch  has  greater  dignity  of 
character,  as  he  is  more  venerable  by  age,  and  more  winning  by  mildness  and 
charity.  He  is,  emphatically,  homo  gravis,  and  yet  very  unassuming  and  plain  in 
address  and  manner,  both  in  the  lecture-room,  in  the  pulpit,  and  at  home.  He 
moves  like  a  patriarch,  combining  the  present  generation  with  the  age  of  Schleier- 
macher  and  Neander,  among  the  professors,  ministers,  and  students  of  Berlin. 

The  sermons  of  Professor  Nitzsch  are  not  very  popular  in  German}--,  probably 
from  the  abrupt  and  obscure  manner  of  expressing  his  thoughts.  His  style  is  at 
the  fiirthest  remove  from  the  plastic  and  imaginative,  and  exceedingly  involved,  and 
difficult  to  be  rendered  into  another  tongue.  But  they  abound  in  rich  thought 
from  the  fountain  of  truth,  and  are  not  destitute  of  earnestness  and  depth  of  feeling. 
That  which  is  here  given,  is  of  his  own  selection,  for  this  special  purpose.  Among 
us  it  might  be  called  a  "  Baccalaureate  Discourse  f^  having  been  pronounced  at  the 
close  of  an  academical  winter  semester.  We  mistake  if  it  is  not  deemed  worthy 
of  the  term  magnificent,  Avhich  a  ripe  Grerman  scholar  applied  to  it,  after  a  careful 
perusal.  Much  labor  has  been  bestowed  upon  the  translation,  in  order  to  give  it  a 
smooth  and  transparent  rendering,  and,  at  the  same  time,  be  just  to  the  original 
To  be  appreciated  the  discourse  needs  to  be  studied. 


THE    PREACHING    OF     CHRIST    CRUCIFIED. 


THE  PREACHING  OF  CHRIST  CRUCIFIED. 

Beloved  Fatueks  and  Bretiiken — ^Rapidly  has  this  term  of  famiUar 
intercourse  with  the  sciences,  both  in  word  and  life,  reached  its  close. 
At  the  commencement,  we  reflected  upon  the  sowing  and  the  harvest ; 
and  not  without  reason  did  we  inquire  what  was  meant  by  sowing  to  the 
Spirit,  and  what,  by  sowing  to  the  flesh  ;  and  from  the  one,  to  reap  life ; 
and  from  the  other,  corruption.  And  now  it  may  be  asked,  how  have  we 
sowed,  and  what  hopes  may  we  entertain  respecting  a  harvest. 

At  the  expiration  of  our  term,  when  some  of  us  will  have  finished 
our  academical  course  forever,  and  the  most  of  us  will  be  only  inter- 
rupted in  it  for  a  while,  in  order  to  give  ourselves  to  recreation,  or  to 
retired  study,  or  to  social  intercourse  at  the  fireside,  I  feel  constrained, 
my  honored  and  dear  brethren,  to  call  your  attention,  first  of  all,  to  that 
other  career  which  suffers  no  interruption,  and  which  presses  on  to  a  ter- 
mination quite  diflerent  from  the  present  one.  It  is  a  career  which 
admits  of  no  vacation.  It  allows  of  no  parting  one  from  the  other.  And 
the  now  approaching  festivals  will  proclaim  to  you,  in  company  with 
large  numbers  of  fellow-Christian  champions,  the  aim,  the  help,  and  the 
S'.iccor  which  is  granted  to  those  who  enter  upon  it. 

It  devolves  upon  us  to  conclude  this  semester,  in  the  full  view  of  what 
is  here  presented  before  us,  and  to  season  and  complete  whatever  dis- 
hearteuing  or  elevating  experiences  we  have  passed  through,  with  that 
wisdom  which  is  derived  from  the  proclamation  of  the  cross  of 
Christ. 

For  if  we  are  now  about  to  devote  the  just  commencing  days  of  rcsi, 
and  separation,  and  varied  reunion  at  home  only  to  pleasure  and  vanity, 
according  to  our  respective  humors,  then  will  these  solemnities  witness 
against  us  with  their  real  character,  saying,  "  But  wc  preach  only  Christ 
crucified."  If  we  exult  over  our  own  works  and.  achievements,  or  lift 
ourselves  in  pride  above  those  around  us,  then  will  these  again  in  like 
manner  admuiister  their  rebuke,  "  We  believe  in  Christ  tlie  crucified." 
Again,  if  we  wish  to  ask  after,  or  be  inquii-ed  of  res})ecting  wisdom,  and 
consent  to  lightly  estimate  that  which  truly  moves  the  hearts  of  others, 
for  Avhose  sake  we  should  be  really  wise,  then  will  these  again  protest 
against  our  conduct  and  assort,  "  But  by  us  is  preached  Christ  the  cru- 
cified." 

He,  who  in  the  name  of  Christians  generally,  first  introduced  this 
characteristic  expression,  still  ever  kept  in  view  that  "  wisdom"  which  at 
Rome,  at  Corinth,  at  Athens,  tliroughout  all  the  schools,  was  esteemed 
as  the  more  important  element  in  human  life ;  yea,  was  honored  only  too 
much,  as  the  most  important  object  of  man's  regards. 

With  this  preamble,  and  by  the  help  of  the  Spirit  of  truth  and  sancti- 


go  CARL    IMMxiNUEL    NITZSCH. 

fication,  let  us  now  iDvoceed  to  consider  the  words  of  the  holy  Scripture, 
found  in  1  Cor.,  i.  23,  24  : 

"  But  wo  preach  Christ  crucified,  unto  the  Jews  a  stumbling-block,  and  unto  the 
Greeks  foolishness.  But  unto  them  which  are  called,  both  Jews  and  Greeks,  Christ  the 
power  of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God." 

The  apostle,  whose  lot  it  was  to  be  the  first  herald  of  Christ  in  the 
chief  centers  of  secular  culture,  and  to  the  remotest  circuits  around, 
insists,  for  this  very  reason,  all  the  more  strenuously  on  making  Christ 
(jrucified  the  main  object  of  his  preaching ;  and  this  fact  should  promjjt 
us,  especially  in  these  days,  and  in  such  an  assembly  as  this,  to  contemplate 
afresh  tliis  cardinal  doctrine  of  our  profession  and  worship.  With  him  it 
seemed  not  merely  a  matter  of  personal  experience,  but  also  a  deep-felt 
necessity,  that  a  proclamation  of  this  sort,  made  at  the  first,  according 
as  persons  and  occasions  offei'ed,  should  be  to  the  Jews  a  stumbling-block, 
and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness.  And  now,  since  in  both  the  Jewish  and 
Greek  character  there  existed  something  more  than  national  idiosyncra- 
cies  of  thought — since  in  them  there  are  manifested  the  common  tenden- 
cies of  the  world,  and  of  the  natural  man  everywhere,  how  can  we  fail 
to  perceive  that  from  the  same  causes,  like  eflfects  will  universally  follow  ? 
But  Paul  looked  also  to  the  divinely  elect  among  both  classes,  and  then 
was  it  to  him,  also,  more  than  a  dictate  of  experience ;  it  was  a  necessity, 
penetrating  both  present  and  future,  that  to  them  Christ  would  be  at 
once  divine  power,  and  divine  wisdom.  It  is  an  assurance  which  always 
abides,  indestructible. 

Let  us  bring  this  statement  more  fully  under  contemplation  as  we  ex- 
plain in  their  causes : 

1.  The  stumbling-block  felt  by 'the  Jew^s,  as  well  as  the  Greeks,  in  the 
preaching  of  the  cross  ;  and 

2.  Tlie  opposite  efiect  of  the  same  upon  those  who  are  called. 

"  But  we,"  says  the  apostle,  "  preach  Christ  crucified,  to  the  Jews  a 
stumbHng-block,  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness."  If  under  the  term 
"  Christ,"  we  imagine  simply  a  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  in  his  holy  mild- 
ness and  innocence,  in  his  wondrous  beneficence,  in  his  labors  in  behalf 
of  the  souls  of  his  brethren  ;  if  by  "  crucified"  be  meant  only  his 
unmerited  sufferings,  and  his  shameful  martyr  death  ;  if  by  "  preaching" 
or  proclamation  we  understand  nothing  but  the  description  of  his 
person,  and  the  exhibition  of  such  a  human  life  and  death  as  was  his,  it 
is  not  easy  to  see  how,  e.  g.^  to  those  Jews  who  had  taken  no  part  as  op- 
posers  in  his  history  in  Palestine,  he  could  have  proved  a  stumbling-block ; 
and  among  the  Greeks,  who  had  a  quick  sense  for  whatever  was  distin- 
guished and  noble,  for  virtue  and  spiritual  freedom,  how  he  could  have 
experienced  nothing  but  contempt.  The  former  ought  to  have  placed 
him  in  the  series  of  their  holy  ])rophets ;  and  the  latter  should  have 
ranked  him  among  their  wisest  and  noblest  sons.     For  the  educated  and 


THE     PREACHING     OF     CHRIST     CRUCIFIED  67 

refined  portion  of  the  world  he  ought  to  have  been  an  object  of  attrac- 
tion and  great  significance.  But  now,  this  crucified  one  is  Christ,  a  Lord 
over  all ;  and  this  Christ  is  a  crucified  one  ;  and  thus  set  before  us  in 
light  or  shade,  he  is  not  simply  exhibited,  but  preached,  i.  e.,  ofiered  to 
all  creatures,  to  every  soul,  for  believing  reception,  for  penitent  em- 
brace, for  humble  submission ;  and  that,  too,  in  the  name  of  the  living 
God  who  has  made  heaven  and  earth — who  has  given  in  him  both  the 
law  and  promise — who  has  overlooked  and  forborne  with  sin,  in  order 
now  to  reveal  in  him  his  righteousness  from  faith  to  faith.  This  is,  in- 
deed, altogether  another  thing. 

Here,  in  the  first  place,  is  disclosed  to  us  the  reason  why  Christ  was  a 
etumbUng-block  to  the  Jews.  By  a  stumbling-block  is  meant  something 
which,  according  to  all  expectation,  ought  to  have  been  most  holy  and 
most  glorious,  but  which  in  appearance  and  reality,  proves  to  be  com- 
mon, unworthy,  and  injurious.  A  just  anticipation  in  this  case  feels 
itself  to  have  been  sadly  deceived,  and  the  most  earnest  longing  turns 
away  in  hatred  and  disgust  from  its  object,  as  it  is  seen  coming  forth 
to  contradict  every  cherished  hope.  I  then  hate  where  I  should  and 
would  have  only  loved.  I  fling  stones  at  that  which  ought  to  have  been 
worshiped.  For  the  title,  name,  and  birth-place  of  the  person,  the  doc- 
trine, and  the  whole  cause  have  all  beguiled  me.  Here  is  the  stumbling- 
block.  Christ,  Messiah,  kmgdom  of  heaven,  redemption — what  attractive, 
exciting  objects  these  for  the  Jew,  unto  whom  the  ends  of  the  earth 
were  come.  But  Christ,  on  the  cross !  a  Redeemer  delivered  over 
hito  the  hands  of  tlie  heathen!  God's  Son,  and  no  mustering  of  heaven 
and  earth !  no  divine  day  of  judgment  and  of  triumph,  ushering  in  for 
God's  people  a  supremacy  over  all  the  Gentiles — and  gathering  together 
the  legitimate  servants  of  the  Most  High  !  What  a  contradiction  was 
there  in  such  divine  blessedness  to  Jews  who  felt  blessed  only  in  this 
world !  Then  did  the  flesh  begin  to  set  promise  at  strife  with  promise, 
and  law  with  law.  But  surely  in  vain.  The  Spirit  sealed  unto  the  Cru- 
cified his  kingdom — in  all  lands — through  all  times — even  unto  this  day. 
Kings  and  queens  bow  themselves,  and  nations  are  prostrate  before  his 
name  ;  and,  so  far  as  this  has  ha])pcned,  or  still  happens,  does  the  stumb- 
ling-block in  a  degree  vanish  away.  But  yet  is  the  oflense  rooted  in  the 
hearts  of  men  ;  still  it  rises  and  acts  itself  out,  although  in  varioiis  ways 
and  degrees  because  of  that  Judaism  which  still  cleaves  to  our  nature 
throughout  the  world,  even  among  Christians.  An  older  calling,  a 
diviner  promise  we  can  not  think  to  have  than — to  be  happy,  to  have 
enjoyments ;  and,  with  this,  how  can  we  reconcile  Good  Friday,  the 
cross,  and  that  holy  passion  which  these  days  commemorate,  and  into 
whose  fellowship  these  seek  to  draw  men?  I  have  conducted  myself 
honestly,  I  will  say  ;  I  have  labored  much  in  behalf  of  virtue  ;  I  there- 
fore am  looking  for  a  reward  of  peace.  But  I  am  here  i.  iden  to  fix 
my  eye  upon  the  token  of  forgiveness  of  sin !     Very  well.    I  would  be- 


68  •  GAEL    IMMANUEL    NITZSCH. 

lieve  and  tread  hopefully  over  all  the  ohstriictions  and  dangers  incident 
to  righteousness  and  every  holy  cause  ;  but  I  behold  any  thing  but  the 
power  of  the  Lord  bursting  forth  upon  malefactors  and  enemies.  At 
the  cross  all  my  proud  thoughts  vanish.  I  might  comfort  myself  in  the 
thought  of  being  better  than  others.  I  might  boast  of  my  righteous- 
ness and  good  works.  I  might  even  continue  to  move  on  in  tlie  cus- 
tomary and  yet  approved  paths  of  life.  I  might  see  my  own  hght  shin- 
ing through  the  shadows  which  publicans  and  sinners  cast  upon  it.  But 
there  at  the  cross  I  behold  the  type  of  perfect  righteousness,  which  ab- 
sorbs all  the  shadows  flung  upon  it,  and  eclipses  my  light,  in  the  form 
of  human  suffering — at  once  full  of  shame  and  majesty.  I  see  there  all 
the  heathen  and  all  malefactors  invited  to  him,  who  constrains  them  to 
repent,  believe  and  live,  and — I  myself  among  them  ?  In  this  manner  did 
my  contemplative  soul  often  meditate  upon  that  touching  emblem.  But 
hardly  did  the  word  of  God  unfold  to  me  its  full  import,  when  the  proud 
Jewish  spirit  within  revolted  and  braced  itself  against  the  holy  cause 
with  all  kinds  of  claims  and  propositions  drawn  from  my  own  under- 
standing and  righteousness,  as  if  it  were  nothing  holy — as  if  it  were  some- 
thing alien  and  hostile  to  me — as  if  it  Avere  a  device  conceived  for  the 
suppression  of  my  natural  freedom.  And  how  far  does  this  come  short 
of  the  stumbling-block  over  which  the  Jews  fell  ? 

3.  Undoubtedly  the  case  was  different  with  the  Greeks.  With  them 
no  Messiah  was  lost — no  divine  election  injured — no  promise  destroyed, 
when  they  heard  the  preacliing  of  the  Crucified.  "  Folly  upon  folly !" 
was  the  only  reply  they  were  disposed  to  make.  But,  as  formerly,  the 
scandal  on  the  part  of  the  Jews,  and  the  scorn  on  the  part  of  the  Greeks, 
led  to  like  results — to  wit:  no  faith,  no  salvation,  and  to  yet  more  decided 
hostility  to  the  truth — so  now  still,  is  the  cold  of  a  repulsive  indifference, 
but  slightly  diverse  in  its  effects  from  the  heat  of  a  bitter  oi:>position. 
The  Greeks,  who  did  not  ask  after  a  sign,  sought  for  wisdom,  and  the 
response  given  them  from  the  cross  appeared  but  foolishness.  Of  course 
others  followed,  who,  having  gone  through  all  the  schools  without  any 
satisfaction  of  heart,  discovered  at  last  in  the  acts  and  words  of  God, 
that  light  which  disclosed  the  hidden  evil  within,  and,  consuming  it, 
poured  its  healing  beams  over  the  earth,  and  upon  all  mankind,  so  that 
they,  through  laith,  got  understanding,  and  learned  to  raise  the  reve- 
rential inquiries  of  science  to  the  objects  of  faith.  Then  was  a  wise 
science  no  more  ashamed  of  the  cross.  The  preachers  of  the  crucified 
became  the  teachers  of  the  world.  But,  nevertheless,  has  not  the  much 
longer-lived  and  wide-spread  Greekism  of  the  human  heart  once  more 
gained  the  upper  hand,  and  felt  disposed  to  cry  again,  "  O  folly  upon 
folly,"  the  more  truly  and  vitally  the  Crucified  has  been  preached  ? 
Knowledge,  indeed,  in  itself  is  not  of  evil,  and  wisdom  is  verily  the 
virtue  of  knowledge.  For,  unquestionably,  a  person  is  to  be  called  wise 
only  according  and  in  proportion  as  he  receives  whatever  is  eternal, 


ZHE    PREACHING    OF    CHRIST    CRUC1F.2D.  69 

true  or  good,  for  the  most  certain  objects  ol  knowleclg-e,  and  compre- 
henas  and  loves  and  practices  it,  and  intends,  with  his  whole  being,  what 
he  thus  receives.  And  O,  would  that  the  wisdom  after  the  flesh,  of  which 
the  apostle  speaks  in  the  context,  were  not  a  mere  deceptive  imitation 
of  this!  So  far  as  the  vanity  of  a  self  seeking  heart  is  the  spring  of  in- 
quiry, and  furnishes  the  chief  incentive  to  knowledge,  it  will  lead  only  to 
a  wisdom  which  utterly  denies  this  glorious  relation  between  knowledge 
and  life  in  every  point.  Under  its  influence,  I  gladly  recognize  only 
those  things  which  do  not  overpower  and  constrain  me,  as  does  the 
truth  of  God  and  his  ways ;  and  I  prefer  only  what  I  can  master. 
Knowledge  delights  me,  not  because  it  is  one  with  the  truth  of  love, 
and  with  the  practice  of  goodness.  By  no  means;  but  simply  be- 
cause by  it  I  can  escape  the  fear  and  the  hope  which  things  inspire 
within  me  ;  because  it  i-eleases  me  from  faith  and  prayer ;  yea,  even 
from  acting  according  to  right  and  law.  It  appears  to  me  to  be  de- 
signed only  for  the  elect  few,  whose  business  it  is  to  guide  and  instruct 
the  ignorant.  I  leave  it  for  others  to  practice  ;  to  do  right ;  to  obey ; 
to  serve.  T'hey  may  carry  out  what  I  think.  They  may  plague  them- 
sehes  about  laws  and  about  ways  of  salvation.  I  only  live  for  the 
spirit.  I  am  free,  I  occupy  an  elevation  far  above  these  things.  Thus 
did  the  Greek  delight  to  argue  away  all  religions,  and  build  up  only 
states.     So  does  he  still  oftentir^es. 

And  must  not  the  preaching  of  the  cross  to  him  seem  folly  ?  His 
hope  is,  that  a  person  who,  like  Paul,  dares  to  step  forth  upon  the 
market-place  at  Athens,  will  prove  a  still  further  development  of  human 
thought.  But  Paul  announces  only  historic  acts  and  revelations  of 
God!  "  Out^  then,  Avith  the  superstition  of  the  barbarians!"  Paul  tells 
how  God  winked  at  the  times  of  ignorance ;  how  God  loved  the  world, 
and  redeemed  it  through  the  death  of  his  Son  ;  he  prays,  in  Christ's 
stead,  Be  ye  reconciled  to  God  ;  he  declares  the  active  working  of  sin 
unto  death,  and  of  righteousness  unto  life.  "  O  what  ^  folly  to  be  thus 
deceived  in  regard  to  the  purity  of  humanity,  and  the  loftiness  of  hmnan 
thought !  What  cowardice  and  thralldom  not  to  trust  more  to  one's  self! 
What  a  perversity  thus  to  sink  down  from  those  heights  of  enlighten- 
ment where  there  is  no  ruffling  of  the  spiiit — no  law — no  sin — into  that 
lower  sphere  of  vulgar  God-fearing  piety!"  Questions  and  answers  like 
these  still  emanate  from  the  heart  of  the  natural  Greek;  and.  often  does 
it  happen,  that,  with  this  tendency,  he  would  rather  pass  over  into  the 
state  of  Jewish  scandal  and  oflfense,  than  give  honor  to  Christ, 

Nevertheless  the  preacher  of  the  cross  does  not  withhold  his  testi- 
mony. He  knows  of  a  very  diflferent  result  ensuing  from  his  doctrine. 
To  him  it  proves  no  stumbling-block  that  the  Jews  are  offended. 
For  him,  what  is  wisdom,  remains  wisdom.  Every  thing  depends  upon 
the  fitness  of  the  men  who  hear.  For  we  read.  To  them  who  are 
called,  both  Jews  and  Greeks,  we  preach  Christ,  the  power  of  God,  and 


70  CARL     EMMANUEL    NITZSCH. 

the  wisdom  of  God.  The  preachhig  of  God  the  apostle  confesses  to 
be  folly.  But  shall  the  fooUshness  of  God  not  be  wiser  than  men  ?  The 
preaching  of  God  is  weak,  low,  humble  ;  but  shall  the  divine  weakness 
not  be  stronger  than  men  ?  The  whole  matter  hinges  on  two  points- 
power  and  wisdom.  Look  only  for  them.  Watch  them  rightly.  Let 
them  be  truly  attested.  Then  will  God,  who  has  threatened  to  take  the 
wise  in  their  folly,  and  the  strong  in  their  weakness,  call  you,  and  set 
you  to  trace  out  his  power,  and  to  discern  his  wisdom. 

Glorious  is  Might — the  last,  the  highest !  Why  should  it  not,  then,  be 
RigJit  f  Why  should  it  not  be  good — be  God  P  Glorious  is  God  Al- 
mighty !  Why  should  I  not  ask  after  his  signs  ?  why  not  seek  for  them  ? 
If  I  hitherto  have  been  fearing  man,  alas !  too  much,  why  should  I  now  not 
i-ejoice  to  fear  God  instead  ? — yea,  God  alone  ?  The  world,  and  nature's 
laws,  oppress  my  heart,  and  I  breathe  the  freer  as  often  as  I  discern  in 
them  the  Lord  of  nature — the  world's  beginning  and  end — the  eternal 
One.  And  yet  I  am  a  part  of  this  fleeting  world  ;  and,  what  is  worse,  I 
am  not  free  from  it — from  its  spirit  and  essence  ;  and  I  tremble  before 
the  God  who  alone  can  help  me !  Glorious  is  God  in  his  judgment  of 
the  flesh  !  In  the  miracles  of  history  he  executeth  justice  and  judgment 
for  all  who  are  oppressed.  He  lifteth  up  the  needy,  and  casteth  the 
mighty  down  from  their  seats. 

But  who  believes  this  report  ?  and  to  whom  is  the  arm  of  the  Lord 
revealed  ?  For  Ave  act  according  to  our  pleasure  as  before.  We  defy  it 
and  then  we  waver  hesitatingly.  We  are  not  overcome  ;  neither  yet  do 
we  overcome.  The  suflering  might  of  the  Lord — the  divine  majesty  re- 
straining and  vaiHng  itself  in  the  deep  woes  of  sin — the  love  manifested 
in  weakness — the  godlike  love — this  must  be  the  power  which  achieves 
all  this.  Approach  hither  and  die  unto  yourselves,  that  ye  too  may  live  ! 
Here,  and  here  alone,  is  the  victory  of  the  Spirit  over  the  flesh  cele- 
brated. Hence  emanates  the  might  which  at  once  destroys  and  quick- 
ens the  will.  For  those  who  look  on  the  cross,  sin  is  henceforth  no  more. 
If  the  law  can  not  impart  to  you  a  love  for  goodness,  then  betake  your- 
self to  this.  Here  perish  the  works  of  the  flesh,  for  God's  power  slays 
them  through  mortification,  and  through  instruction,  and  through  the 
forgiveness  of  the  sinner.  In  the  pure  ways  of  God's  truth  and  grace, 
the  might  of  the  Lord  penetrates  the  heart,  and  precipitates  from  their 
thrones  the  idols  of  pleasure  and  of  ambition,  and  drives  away  the  de- 
mons of  hate  and  jealousy.  Have  you  never  yet  sufi"ered  under  a  slay- 
ing, but  still  not  quickening  law  ?  Here  is  the  end  of  the  law.  Do  ye 
never  desire  a  pure — a  new  heart  ?  Here  must  the  wish  become  a  prayer, 
a  sole  cry  of  need  ;  and  here  is  for  you  the  fulfillment  of  the  prayer  and 
the  promise. 

Ye  who  have  tried  so  often  to  conquer  yourselves,  and  have  succeeded, 
perhaps,  but  once,  and  not  again — ye  who  have  sought  so  long  for  freedom 
only,  freedom  from  law,  from  faith,  from  love,  entire  freedom  from  right- 


THE    PREACH1>'J    OF    CHRIST    CRUCIFIED.  7l 

eousness,  and,  if  possible,  freedom  ouly  for  unrighteousness — and  have 
thought  to  live  according  to  the  creed  of  your  own  imagination,  and  yet 
have  again  fallen  in  subjection  under  the  law,  sometimes  of  the  spirit  and 
sometimes  of  the  flesh,  and  from  all  this  have  reaped  only  corrujjtion  and 
death,  or  only  vanishing  dreams  and  bitter  slavery,  let  the  foolish,  power- 
less divine  Might  of  the  cross  once  subdue  you,  and  you  will  be  victorious 
in  all  things.  He  Avho  came  with  blood,  will  descend  on  you  with  his 
Spirit ;  he  will  make  you  children  ;  he  Avill  make  you  truly  men — war- 
riors— victors.  "  Ye  have  overcome  the  wicked  one,"  exclaimed  John 
to  the  young  men ;  and  how  could  this  have  been,  save  in  him  who,  in 
quiet,  spiritual  conflicts,  binds  the  strong  man  as  the  One  stronger 
than  he  ?  If  faith  is  our  victory — if  he  Avho  is  born  of  God  overcometh 
the  world — whence  do  these  heroic  energies  originate  save  in  the  Lamb 
of  God,  who  is  also  the  Lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah  ? 

Only  too  slowly,  only  too  rarely  does  this  energizing  of  man  display 
itself.  Even  for  the  susceptible  spirits,  where  are  the  true  preachers 
of  the  cross  to  be  found  ?  For  even  when  the  former  exist,  the  lat- 
ter are  often  sadly  wanting.  Why  always  resort  to  antiquity,  to  oui 
church-books  and  catechisms  for  that  which  is  to  move  and  sanctify  the 
heart  ?  So,  then,  the  wise  bethink  themselves  of  some  shorter  and 
more  immediate  agencies,  or  devise  some  fresh  novelty.  Wisdom 
they  wiU  never  bid  too  much  for.  "  Howbeit,"  exclaims  the  same  apos- 
tle, "  we  speak  wisdom  among  them  that  are  perfect."  "  If  any  man 
thinks  he  knows  any  thing,  he  yet  knows  nothing  as  he  ought  to  know 
it."  Those  who  are  called — both  Jews  and  Greeks — have  learned,  or  will 
learn,  from  experience,  that  they  are  unrigliteous,  sinful  men,  who  become 
righteous  only  through  the  power  and  grace  of  God — that  the  human 
will  and  disposition  receive  ever  anew  from  God  the  ability  to  become 
good ;  and  should  the  wise  alone  experience  or  confess  that  he  is  unwise  ? 
In  truth,  the  fullness  of  wisdom  is  only  to  be  sought  for  in  the  objects  oi" 
faith — objects  which  would  never  have  come  into  the  apprehensions  of 
men,  had  not  God  revealed  them  by  his  glorious  deeds.  And  yet,  since 
the  revelation  is  come,  does  it  partly  convert  the  thinkers  uato  fools, 
and  partly,  for  centuries  past,  continue  to  draw  numbers  unto  itself,  that 
they  may  become  absorbed  therein  ;  for  no  object  of  science  equals  in 
vastness,  in  height,  in  depth,  the  fact,  that  the  word  of  God  bcca^ne 
flesh,  and  that  God  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  freely  gave  him  up  for 
us  all.  Surely  that  faith  is  wisdom  among  the  perfect,  which,  while  it 
leads  cliildren,  youth,  and  barbarians  to  happiness,  ceases  not  to  occupy 
thoughtful  and  profound  minds,  even  though  it  leaves  to  indiftererice, 
repels,  or  alienates,  those  in  the  intervening  stages  of  culture. 

Yea,  verily,  that  faith  is  wisdom  among  the  perfect,  by  which  alone 
we  are  enabled  to  perceive  the  history  of  God  in  the  history  of  humanity ; 
and  the  running  threads  of  a  higher  guidance  in  all  things ;  which  teaches 
us  to  detect  the  harmony,  and  the  wise  adaptations  in  the  separations 


72  CARL    IMMANUEL    NITZSCH. 

and  combinations  of  nations,  in  their  downfall  and  their  continuance,  and 
in  their  various  contributions  to  the  advancement  of  God's  kingdom  ; 
while  those,  upon  whom  this  light  has  dawned,  are  evermore  prompted 
to  exclaim,  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of  the  wisdom  and  of  the 
knowledge  of  God  !  How  unsearchable  are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways 
past  finding  out ;  for  who  has  known  the  mind  of  the  Lord  ?"  But  we 
do  apprehend  it,  and  yet  it  is  never  exhausted.  The  preaching  of  the 
cross  announces  to  us  the  reconciliation  of  the  great  contrast  of  law  and 
promise,  the  pause  and  the  advance  in  the  divine  judgment,  the  entire 
holiness  of  God  in  his  patience  toward  sin,  and  the  blending  of  righteous- 
ness and  grace  in  one.  All  permission  of  evil  is  justified  ;  and  by  means 
as  simple  as  they  are  wonderful,  alfthe  sins  of  the  world  are  judged  and 
condemned,  in  that  they  are  forgiven. 

Here  is  truth  to  be  had — here  is  the  art  of  living  and  suffering  for 
every  office,  and  every  state  in  life  to  be  obtained.  Not  that  the  wise 
had  apprehended  altogether,  or  were  as  yet  perfect.  Only  that  Jesus 
Christ  has  apprehended  us — only  that  we,  apprehended  by  him,  forget 
the  things  which  are  behind,  be  they  childish  joy  or  childish  innocence, 
the  sins  of  youth,  which  insist  on  continued  indulgence,  or  the  attained 
virtue,  which  is  satisfied  with  itself,  only  that  we  may  strive  after  that 
which  lies  before  us  in  our  heavenly  calling,  even  amid  earthly  i:)ursuits, 
as  an  inestimable  treasure. 

Let  us  now,  as  the  festival-days  draw  near — Good  Friday  anr'  Easter 
— not  turn  away  from  the  preaching  of  the  cross.  Let  us  enter  the  con- 
gregations wherever  we  find  them  assembled,  where  men,  where  pil- 
grims, like  ourselves,  looking  to  the  close  of  the  Redeemer's  life,  smite 
their  breasts  and  repent.  From  such  summits  he  has  kindly  promised  to 
draw  every  one  unto  himself  Who  is  of  the  truth  hears  his  voice. 
Why  should  we  be  eternally  talking  of  perfection,  of  the  culture  of  the 
mind  and  heart ;  or  be  thinking  and  striving  after  this,  and  yet  neglect 
the  only  infallible  commencement  of  the  same — the  true  beginning  of  all 
human.  Christian,  pi-ofessional  cultivation — which  is,  that  we  be  appre- 
hended by  Jesus  Christ,  with  sorrow  or  joy,  from  repentance  and  cour- 
age, unto  gratitude  and  striving,  in  repentance  and  faith  ?  Without  him 
we  can  do  nothing.  Through  him,  we  can  do  all  t!.in*gs;  and  to  him  be 
honor,  thanksgiving,  and  praise,  forever  and  ever !     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    V. 


RUDOLF     STIER,     D.D. 

Seahch  has  been  made  in  vain  in  the  latest  German  publications;  even  of  the 
"  Conversations  Lexicon,"  for  biographical  fiicts  as  to  Dr.  Stier,  and  our  own  corres- 
pondence has  failed ;  so  that  but  few  particulars  respecting  this  distinguished  divine 
can  be  given.  He  is  best  known  in  Germany  and  other  countries,  from  his  "  Words 
of  Jesus,"  which  were  published  some  seventeen  years  since,  and  have  been  incor- 
porated into  the  issues  of  "  Clarke's  Foreign  Theological  Library."  They  have  taken 
their  place  as  standard  works ;  evincing  minute  analysis,  and  keen  investigation 
into  the  secret  thread  and  real  meaning  of  the  words  which  fell  from  the  Master's 
lips. 

His  method,  which  is  a  combination  of  the  critical  and  the  practical,  is  some- 
thing unusual  among  the  Germans,  but  has  been  received,  on  the  whole,  with  great 
favor.  To  his  extensive  learning  and  more  than  ordinary  originality  of  mind,  Dr. 
Stier  adds,  also,  an  entire  faith  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures. 

One  great  excellence  of  his  commentaries,  is  their  unwearied  protest  against  Ra- 
tionalism. Besides  this  great  work,  Dr.  Stier  has  gained  a  considerable  reputation 
by  the  pubhcation  of  a  "  Commentary  on  the  Psaims,"  and  his  "  Epistel  Predigten," 
a  large  quarto  volume  of  more  than  a  thousand  pages,  printed  at  Halle,  in  1837, 
■  and  made  up  of  discourses,  etc.,  on  a  great  variety  of  topics. 

The  sermon  here  given  is  translated  from  the  above  volume,  and  is  a  favorable 
specimen  of  his  discourses.  As  will  be  seen,  his  style  is  peculiar ;  and  the  matter 
of  his  sermons  is  oftentimes  little  more  than  a  skillful  dovetaihng  together  of  Scrip- 
ture texts,  which  bear  upon  the  special  theme ;  though  the  remark  is  not  so  true 
of  that  here  furnished.  He  has  been  heard  to  observe,  that  it  is  useless  to  preach 
polemics  agains*'  theoretical  Rationalism,  because  it  does  not  exist  among  the  coun- 
try people  generally ;  and  he  would  bring  himself  down  in  preaching,  on  a  level 
with  the  common  mind.  Dr.  Stier  was  for  some  years  pastor  in  Frankleben.  In 
1851  he  resided  at  Ecrliii ;  but  is  now  Doctor  of  Theology,  chief  pastor,  and  super- 
intendent of  Schkeuditz. 


74  RUDOLF    STIER. 


THE  THREE  PILLARS  01^'  OUR  FAITH. 

"  Moreover,  brethren,  I  declare  unto  you  the  gospel  which  I  preached  unto  you,  which 
also  ye  have  received,  and  wliereiu  ye  stand ;  by  which  also  ye  are  saved,  if  ye  keep 
in  memory  what  I  preached  unto  you,  unless  ye  have  believed  in  vam.  For  I  deUvered 
unto  you  first  of  all,  that  which  I  also  received,  how  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins  according 
to  the  Scriptures;  and  that  he  was  buried,  and  that  he  rose  again  the  third  day, 
according  to  the  Scriptures;  and  that  he  was  seen  of  Cephas,  then  of  the  twelve: 
after  that,  ho  was  seen  of  above  five  hundred  brethren  at  once ;  of  whom  the  greater 
part  remain  unto  this  present,  but  some  are  fallen  asleep.  After  that,  he  was  seen  ol 
James ;  then  of  all  the  apostles.  And  last  of  all,  he  was  seen  of  me  also,  as  of  one  born 
out  of  due  time.  For  I  am  the  least  of  the  apostles,  that  am  not  meet  to  be  called  an 
ajjostle,  because  I  persecuted  the  church  of  God.  But  by  the  grace  of  God  I  am  whal 
I  am :  and  his  grace  which  was  bestowed  upon  me  was  not  in  vain ;  but  I  labored  more 
abundantly  than  they  all:  yet  not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  which  was  with  me." — 1  COR., 
XV.  1-10. 

The  Apostle  Paul  here  most  earnestly  reminds  the  Christians  at  Cor- 
inth, of  that  gospel  which  he  had  preached  unto  them.  They  had  at 
that  time  "  received"  it  from  him,  and  for  the  most  part  still  "  stood 
fast"  and  hoped  one  day  to  be  saved  "  thereby."  But,  upon  the  one  hand, 
there  was  no  lack  of  erroneous  doctrines  among  them ;  so  that  the  apos 
tie  was  obliged  to  add:  "  if  ye  keep  in  memory  what  I  preached  untc 
you  p"*  while,  upon  the  other,  on  account  of  their  sensual  disposition,  ht 
had  cause  still  more  shai'ply  to  say,  "  imless  ye  have  believed  in  vain.' 
Therefore,  as  at  another  time  he  upbraids  the  faithless  Galatians  wit! 
apostolical  zeal,  and  declares  there  is  no  other  gospel,  and  that  not  even 
an  angel  from  heaven  could  preach  another,  than  that  preached  by  him 
— that  he  had  "  not  received  or  learned  it  from  any  man,  but  through 
the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ ;"  so  here  he  reminds  the  Corinthians  with 
great  emphasis  of  the  firm  and  certain  foundations  of  the  doctrme  in 
which  they  had  been  instructed.  He  places  once  more  clearly  before 
them  the  great  central  feature  of  Christian  faith ;  that  it  is  faith  in 
Christ — in  Christ  as  him  who  for  us  hath  died  and  risen  again.  He  had 
delivered  unto  them  '•'•first  of  all^^''  not  merely  the  history  of  Christ's 
death  and  burial,  but  that  which  he  "  had  received"  for  his  own  personal 
comfort  and  vivification,  that  which  is  the  first  and  highest  of  the  cardi- 
j  nal  doctrines — the  kernel  and  center  of  the  gospel,  "  that  Christ  died 
■  for  our  sins  .•'"  Only  from  the  reconciling  death  of  Christ  comes  our 
salvation  and  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation — "  the  word  of  reconcilia- 
tion," and  "  the  preaching  of  the  cross."  But  that  Christ  has  died  for 
Our  sins,  is  only  made  sure  and  certain  by  his  resurrection^  by  which  God 
hath  vindicated  him  as  his  Son,  and  given  testimony  that  his  ofiering  for 
the  world  hath  been  accepted.  This,  Paul  sets  forth  in  the  verses  fpl- 
lomng  our  text,  and  rightly  maintains,  "  If  Christ  be  not  risen,  then  is 
our  preaching  vain,  and  your  fliith  is  also  vain — ye  are  yet  in  your  sins." 
While  here  at  the  commencement  of  the  chapter  he  shows  the  firm  and 


THE    THREE     PILLARS    OF     OUR     FAITH.  75 

certain  ground  of  his  preaching,  from  the  fact  that  it  not  only  agrees 
with  Scrij)ture,  but  rests  also  upon  indubitable  history,  he  likewise 
brings  forth  with  special  prominence,  the  fact  that  the  really  accom- 
plished resurrection  is  beyond  a  doubt.  For  this  there  was  especkd 
need,  inasmuch  as  the  erroneous  teachers  of  Corinth  were  inclined  to 
attack,  and  wished  to  overthrow  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection ;  but 
it  is  also  true  in  genei-al  that  in  the  words,  "  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed," 
lies  the  peculiar  proof  of  the  whole  gospel,  and  only  on  that  account  holds 
■  the  apostle  so  fast  to  it. 

We,  also,  Christian  friends,  need  to  be  often  reminded  of  that  gospel 
which  is  yet  preached  unto  us,  for  the  most  part,  according  to  the  doc- 
trine of  the  same  apostle.  It  is  even  as  he  says  in  the  eleventh  verse, 
"  Whether  it  were  I  or  they,  so  we  preached,  and  so  ye  believed."  All 
apostles  preach  harmoniously,  and  all  the  preachers  of  Christendom  should 
teach,  all  Christians  believe,  nothing  otherwise.  It  is.  and  abides  the 
same  gospel  of  Christ,  who  for  us  hath  died  and  risen  again.  But  even 
among  us  also  is  there  an  abundance  of  erroneous  doctrines,  which  would 
fain  overthrow  one  thing  or  another,  and  thereby  the  whole  gospel. 
Even  among  us,  apart  from  this,  is  there  abundant  danger  that  many 
"  believe  in  vain,"  and  fail  of  salvation  through  the  grace  of  Christ,  be- 
cause the  precious  word  of  grace  is  to  them  "  in  word  only,"  and  not 
"  in  power  and  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  in  much  assurance."  Let  us, 
therefore,  for  the  awakening  and  strengthening  of  our  living  and  earn- 
est faith,  proceed  to  consider  the  firmness  of  the  foundations,  on  which 
rests  our  belief  in  the  gospel  of  Christ.  There  are  three  firm  grounds 
here  specified  in  our  text :  viz.,  the  account  of  Christ  which  is  in  peifect 
agreement  with  the  wonderful,  divinely-given  Scr'qytures ;  the  Jdstory 
of  this  Christ,  who  came,  accordhig  to  prophecy,  M'hich  is  most  fully  con- 
firmed by  eye-witnesses ;  and  thirdly,  the  power  of  grace^  which  was 
promised  unto  believers,  and  has  most  gloriously  shown  itself  from  the 
beginning  in  its  effects.  Scripture  history,  and  the  effects  of  grace, 
therefore,  unite  in  testimony  for  the  gospel ;  let  us  consider  them  both. 

I  preached  unto  you  "  that  Christ  died  for  our  sins  according  to  the 
Scrijotures,''''  and  that  he  rose  again  the  third  day  "  according  to  the  Scrijy- 
turesy  Thus  Paul  here  appeals  to  the  ancient  written  word  with  which 
that  newly  preached  agreed  ;  and  thus  among  Jews  or  heathen  did  he 
ever  preach,  according  to  the  Scriptures.  With  the  Jews  at  Thessa- 
lonica,  as  we  are  told,  at  one  time  "  he  reasoned  three  Sabbath-days  out 
of  the  Scriptures,  opening  and  alleging  that  Christ  must  needs  ha\e 
suffered  and  risen  again  from  the  dead,  and  that  this  Jesus  Avhom  (said 
he)  I  preached  unto  you  is  the  Christ,"  of  whom  such  things  stand 
written.  Before  king  Agrippa  he  joyfully  vindicated  himself,  saying, 
I  speak  "  none  other  things  than  those  which  the  prophets  and  Moses 
did  say  should  come,  that  he  should  suffer,  and  that  he  should  be  the 
first  that  should  rise  from  the  dead,  and  show  light  unto  the  people  and 


7G  EUDOLF     STIER. 

unto  the  Gentiles."  Yea,  he  refers  even  the  heathen  to  the  same  Sr^rip. 
tares,  which  hitherto  had  been  intrusted  only  to  the  Jews,  but  which 
now  with  the  gospel,  should  come  unto  all  people,  as  we  have  seen  in 
the  case  of  the  Corhithians,  who  were  formerly,  for  the  most  part,  heathen 
idolaters.  And  did  the  other  apostles,  among  whom  Paul  reckoned  him 
self  only  the  least,  otherwise  ?  We  know  that  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  soon 
as  poured  out  at  the  beginning,  cried  out  by  the  mouth  of  Peter,  "  This 
is  that  Avhich  was  spoken  by  the  prophet  Joel."  So  "  speaketh  David" 
of  the  resurrection  and  ascension,  which  he  "  saw  before."  We  luiow 
that  Peter  further  testified  that  "all  the  j^rophets  from  Samuel,  and 
those  that  followed  after,  as  many  as  have  spoken,  have  likewise  foretold 
of  these  days  ;"  that  Moses  had  referred  to  him  as  the  "  greatest  pro- 
phet;" that  God  promised  him  unto  Abraham.  Had  not  the  Risen 
himself  showii  to  his  apostles  "  all  things  which  were  written  concern- 
ing him  in  the  law  of  Moses  and  in  the  Psalms?"  He  said  unto  them, 
"  Thus  is  it  written,  and  thus  it  behooved  Christ  to  suffer  and  to  rise 
from  the  dead  the  third  day,  and,"  according  to  these  Scriptures,  "thai 
repentance  and  remission  of  sins  should  be  preached  in  his  name  among 
all  nations."  In  like  manner,  through  the  Holy  Ghost,  did  he  teach  his 
apostle  Paul ;  for  it  was  the  will  of  God  that  among  all  people;  Christ 
should  be  preached  '-'•^according  to  the  Scri2)tures.'''>  God  "  had  promised 
afore  by  his  prophets  in  the  holy  Scriptures,"  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ 
"  'v'ho  was  made  of  fiie  seed  of  David  according  to  the  flesh,"  Supreme 
wisdom  hath  wisely  ordered,  that  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  should 
not  be  proclaimed  upon  the  earth  as  something'  wholly  new  and  in- 
credible, and,  on  this  account,  as  on  many  others,  preparations  and 
prophecies  long  preceded  it.  And  thus  was  there  pointed  out  for 
Israel,  a  stronger  ground  for  faith  at  the  time  of  fulfillment.  It  is 
all  only  a  fulfillment  of  your  Scriptures — only  the  completion  of  tlie 
revelations  already  made  to  you — only  that  to  which  all  God's  deal- 
ings with  you  have  aimed  from  the  beginning.  So  was  it  also,  even  for 
the  heathen,  a  stronger  ground  for  faith,  that  the  messengers  of  Christ 
brought,  not  a  mere  novel,  oral  word,  but  had  at  the  same  time  in 
their  hands  the  ancient  Scriptures  of  Israel,  a  people  whom  they  well 
knew ;  and  said,  Behold  we  announce  to  you  precisely  what  was 
promised  from  the  beginning.  How  wonderful  is  the  agreement !  Not 
only  do  the  prophets  speak  of  a  future  Messiah  in  general,  and  of  his 
kingdom  ;  not  only  does  the  whole  of  the  Old  Testament  seem  the  com- 
mencement  thereof,  without  which  aim  it  is  wholly  purposeless ;  not 
only  are  the  great  facts  of  Christ's  death  and  resurrection  distinctly 
foretold,  but  also  many  an  individual  circumstance  in  the  whole  history 
— HOW  the  Lord  should  be  rejected,  betrayed,  sold — ^how  they  should 
"  cast  lots  for  his  garments,"  that  he  should  be  bukied  with  the  rich,  al- 
though it  was  otherwise  determined  for  him  with  the  "s^ncked* — that  he 
^  Isaiah,  liii.  9,  correctly  translated. — AuxiiOE. 


THE     THREE     PILLARS     OF     OUR     FAITH.  77 

would  rise  upon  the  third  day  ; — to  which  Paul  also  here  calls  atten- 
tion— and  many  other  things.  Whoever  considers  the  Old  Testament 
with  an  honest  heart  and  an  open  understanding,  and  compares  with 
it  the  contents  of  the  New,  must  be  convinced  that  here  is  a  connection 
— here  is  one  covenant  of  God  with  men  prepared  of  old  time,  and  now 
completed  and  established  by  Jesus  of  Xazareth — as  the  i:)romised 
Messiah. 

We  have  these  Scriptures  upon  whose  words,  first  of  all,  our  faith  in 
Christ  rests.  We  have,  moreover,  other  Scriptures  with  them — the 
New  Testament — because  the  account  and  doctrine  of  the  fulfillment 
has  been  written  out  by  the  Holy  Ghost  for  our  good,  that  we  may 
bring  the  t"wo  together  and  compare  them.  When  our  preachers  appeal 
thereto,  as  they  all  should,  when  they  say,  "  we  preach  unto  you  accord- 
ing to  the  Scnptures,"  they  mean  thereby  the  word  of  " the  apostle- 
and  prophets,"  on  whose  "  foundation"  we  "  are  built."  Not  accordbig 
to  reason  is  the  gospel  preached  unto  us — not  according  to  our  reason, 
nor  that  of  the  preacher,  nor  that  of  any  man,  for,  truly,  high  above  all 
human  thought,  soars  that,  "  without  controversy,  great  mysteiy — God 
manifest  in  the  flesh" — that  boundless  wonder,  if  one  regards  it  rightly, 
where  the  Lord  suffers  himself  to  be  martyred  for  his  servant — where 
the  true  God  gives  himself  even  unto  death  for  us  lost  men.  As  a  new 
psalmist,  of  one  faith  with  tlie  old,  sings, 

"Til'  eternal  counsel  to  redeem, 
To  expiate  the  guilt  of  man, 
Surpassed  my  thought ;  nor  did  I  dream 
E'en  in  tin-  word  lay  such  a  plan !" 

But  it  is  God's  word  which  reveals  unto  us  his  counsel.  What  is  writ- 
ten, that  it  is  which  has  been  determined ;  and  all  is  one  vast,  wonderful 
plan  of  divine  Avisdom.  The  Scnptures  harmonize  inimitably  in  all  the 
books  which  make  up  the  holy  book.  Though  written  by  wholly  differ- 
ent men,  in  a  period  of  one  and  a  half  millennia,  it  is  nevertheless  one 
whole,  as  if  from  one,  and  the  first  chapter  of  Moses  finds  its  conclusion 
only  in  the  last  of  John's  revelation.  Search,  my  beloved,  in  these 
Scriptures,  that  you  may  strengthen  your  faith;  "the  Scripture  can  not 
be  broken,"  saith  the  Lord ;  for,  as  Luther  says,  it  is  a  ring,  which,  if  it 
break  in  one  place,  were  never  more  whole.  Know  only,  that  tliesc 
Scriptures  which,  in  two  testaments,  testify  of  Christ,  have  maintained 
themselves,  for  almost  two  thousand  years,  against  all  the  wisdom  of  this 
world.  The  unbelief  of  a  modern  time,  which  has  now  partly  past  by, 
is  yielding  to  the  new  faith  of  many — it  is  not  for  a  moment  to  be 
thought  that  all  the  cunning  or  learning  of  men  shall  overcome  the 
word  of  God. 

Let  us  then  proceed  to  the  second  rock-foundation  on  which,  as  we 
\v.\\Q  said,  our  gospel  stands.     In  those  Scriptures  which  most  nearly 


78  RUDOLF    STIEE. 

concern  us,  in  the  'New  Testament,  is  contained  tlie  main  fact,  the  his- 
toi;y  of  the  Life  and  Death,  Resurrection  and  Ascension  of  Jesus  Christ 
Is  not  that  a  sure  and  certain  history  above  every  doubt  ?  Yes,  it  is 
for  our  faith,  hke  the  faith  of  the  first  believers,  ever  rests  upon  the  in 
disputable  testimony  of  eye-witnesses.  Of  this  we  are  reminded  in 
our  text,  for  Paul  here  maintains  the  certainty,  particularly  of  Christ's 
resurrection,  from  such  testimony.  "  He  rose  again  the  third  day,  accord- 
ing to  the  Scriptures,  and  avas  seen,"  first  "  of  Cephas"  or  Peter,  the 
disciple  who  had  betrayed  him,  and  whom  Christ  now  hastened  to  com- 
fort, for  his  angel  commissioned  the  women  at  the  sepulcher  to  "  tell  it 
to  his  disciples  and  [particularly]  to  Peter."  It  was  reported  already 
in  the  assembly  of  the  apostles,  even  before  the  disciples  had  seen  him 
at  Emmaus.  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed,  and  hath  appeared  to  Simon." 
Afterward  was  he  seen  of  the  twelve,  even  by  the  later  chosen  Mat- 
thew, who  was  present  at  the  first  appearances — even  by  Thomas,  the 
stubborn  and  melancholy  doubter,  who  must  needs  "put  his  finger  in 
the  prints  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  his  hand  into  the  side"  of  his  Lord,  in 
order  to  believe.  Afterward  he  was  seen  upon  a  mountain  in  Galilee, 
"  where  Jesus  had  appointed  them,"  "  by  more  than  five  hundred 
brethren  at  once,"  of  whom,  Paul  wrote  to  the  Coi-inthians,  "  the  greater 
part  yet  lived,"  so  that  one  could  interrogate  them ;  "  but  some  were 
fliUen  asleep,"  and  nevertheless  continued  to  testify,  for  they  had  fallen 
asleep  in  hope,  in  faith  upon  the  Risen,  e-ven  as  all  the  apostles  and  early 
Christians  who  preserved  their  faith  unto  the  end  "  though  dead,  yet 
speak."  Afterward  he  was  seen  by  James,  his  brother,  the  subsequent 
bishop  of  Jerusalem,  whom,  according  to  an  old  account,  he  convinced 
in  a  similar  way  as  Thomas ;  after  that,  to  all  whom  he  had  ordained  to 
be  his  apostles  and  the  witnesses  of  his  resurrection  ;  "  and,  last  of  all, 
he  was  seen"  of  Paul  also,  for  he  likewise  was  "  chosen"  to  "  see  that 
Just  One,  and  to  hear  the  voice  of  his  mouth,  that  he  might  be  a  witness 
unto  all  men  of  wdiat  he  had  seen  and  heard."  "  For  I  have  appeared 
unto  thee  for  this  purpose,"  saith  the  Lord  himself  to  him,  "  to  make 
thee  a  minister  and  a  witness,  both  of  these  things  which  thou  hast  seen, 
■and  of  those  things  in  the  which  I  will  appear  unto  thee." 

But  as  the  resurrection  particularly,  so  still  more  was  the  whole  life  and 
death  of  Christ  first  certified,  and  still  is  certified  to  us,  by  the  writings 
of  eye-witnesses.  Two  of  the  evangelists  could  say,  "  that  which  we  have 
seen  with  our  eyes,  which  we  have  looked  upon  and  our  hands  have 
handled  *  *  *  what  we  have  seen  and  heard,  that  declare  we  unto  you." 
Luke  honestly  assures  us  that  "  he  had  had  a  perfect  understanding  of  all 
things,  from  the  very  first,"  with  those  "  who,  from  the  beginning,  were 
eye-Avitnesses  and  ministers  of  the  w^ord."  Mark  wa-ites  as  the  confiden- 
tial  scholar  and  attendant  of  the  first  apostle,  Peter,  who  was  not  only 
the  first  of  men  that  saw  the  Arisen,  but  before  that,  with  only  two 
others,  Ind  been  with  him  when  he  lay  in  the  dust  in  Gethsemane,  and 


THE     THREE     PILLARS    OP     OUR     FAITH.  79 

when  he  was  transfigui-ed  upon  Tabor,  and  wlio,  therefore,  but  just 
before  his  death,  gave  the  assurance,  "  we  have  not  followed  cunningly- 
devised  fables  when  we  made  known  unto  you  the  power  and  coining  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but  were  eye-witnesses  of  his  majesty."  Wliat 
the  apostles  and  evangelists  proclaimed  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  had  already 
a  sure  foundation  for  faith,  in  the  public  life  of  the  Lord,  before  all  the 
people  of  Israel,  during  three  years,  from  one  border  of  the  land  to  the 
other,  so  that  Peter,  in  tlie  beginning,  at  Jerusalem,  could  say,  "  Ye  men 
of  Israel,  Jesus  of  Xazareth  was  a  man  approved  of  God  among  you  by 
miracles,  and  wonders,  and  signs,  Avhich  he  did  by  him  in  the  midst  of 
you,  as  ye  yourselves  also  know."  How  could  the  disciples  have  dared 
to  narrate  such  great  things  of  their  despised  and  rejected  Lord  and 
Master — not  long  after  to  write  them  out  into  documents — if  the  history 
of  Jesus,  in  its  essentials,  had  not  been  notorious  in  their  time.  That 
which  a  whole  land  witnessed,  affords  surety  enough  for  much  else  wit- 
nessed by  but  few.  There  still  lived — not  merely  some  hundreds,  as 
Paul  mentioned,  in  reference  to  the  resurrection,  but  many  thousands — 
witnesses,  believers  and  unbelievers,  who  had  seen  and  heard  this  Jesus. 
Therefore  is  the  height  of  folly  to  be  explained  only  by  the  blindness  of 
carnarmen,  to  say,  like  some  of  the  present  day,  "  Who  knows  what  may 
be  true  in  all  these  histories  ?"  Not  merely  the  history  of  Jesus,  but  also 
the  first  founding  of  hi&  church  through  the  testimony  of  the  apostles — 
tlie  unfaltering  faith  of  so  many  that  the  Crucified  had  risen,  and  was 
now  enthroned  in  heaven,  was  a  public  matter  before  the  whole  woi'ld, 
of  which  Paul  spake  to  king  Agrippa,  "this  thing  was  not  done  in  a 
corner" — just  as  he  appealed  to  the  prophets,  with  which  the  whole 
agreed. 

But  that  the  resurrection,  on  which,  in  fact,  all  hinged,  was  true,  al- 
though it  had  not  transpired  in  the  jH-esence  of  all  the  people,  the  apostles 
gave  the  whole  world  testimony  by  their  honest  and  resolute  assurances 
in  the  very  teeth  of  persecution  and  ignominy.  It  was  their  constant 
assertion,  "  We  can  not  but  speak  the  things  we  have  seen  and  heard." 
In  testimony  to  this  cardinal  lact,  stands  their  whole  life  ;  for  they  could 
not  have  been  what  they  were,  as  apostles,  without  the  Lord's  resurrec- 
tion, without  the  power  from  on  high  communicated  through  the  Prince 
of  Life.  Thus  it  is  written,  "  We  are  his  witnesses,"  as  honest,  credible 
men  ;  but  besides  this,  "  so  also  is  the  Holy  Ghost,  whom  God  hath  given 
to  them  that  obey  him."  By  this  they  did  not  mean  simply  the  power 
of  performing  miracles  and  signs,  before  all  eyes,  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ ;  but  they  referred  to  that  greatest  of  all  miracles — the  miracle  of 
regeneration  wrought  in  their  hearts — but  visible  in  their  "  godly  walk 
and  conversation."  This,  then,  is  the  third  (/round  on  which  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  gospel  rests,  the  residts  of  grace,  by  which,  from  the  begin- 
ning, weak  and  sinful  men  have  been  transformed  into  strong  heroes  and 
holy  children  of  God.     Jesus  Christ  "is  declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God 


80  RUDOLF     STIER. 

with  power,  according  to  the  Spirit  of  holiness  by  the  resurrection  from 
the  dead."  What  would  these  apostles,  these  fishermen  and  publicans 
of  Galilee  have  been  in  their  weakness  ?  What  icere  they  in  the  power 
of  the  new  life  which  Christ  poured  out  upon  them  ?  Everywhere,  those 
who  believed  this  gospel,  whether  blind  Jews  or  heathen,  sunk  in  de- 
pravity and  folly,  became,  by  that  faith,  holy  and  righteous,  heavenly- 
minded  people,  renouncing,  yet  loving  the  world,  hoping  in  something 
beyond,  desj^ising  all  its  obloquy.  So  already,  in  the  apostolic  age,  stood 
a  many  thousandfold  testimony  before  the  eyes  of  the  world,  the  incon- 
trovertible testimony  of  all  those  whose  confession  was,  "  What  we  now 
are,  that  are  we  through  God's  grace  in  Jesus  Christ !"  And  it  is  this 
testimony  pecuUarly  which  hath  first  confirmed  the  Scripture  and  history, 
and  made  Cliristianity  invulnerable  on  the  earth.  Particularly  wei-o  all 
the  apostles  such  witnesses  of  the  power  of  the  Son,  whom  they  preached. 
Most  extraordinary  and  wonderful  of  all,  however,  stood  before  the  world 
the  life  and  deeds  of  him  who,  in  his  humility,  calls  himself  "  the  least 
among  the  apostles — not  worthy  to  be  called  an  apostle  ;"  but  Avho,  in 
fact,  became  the  greatest,  and  labored  "  more  than  they  all" — I*aicl,  once 
a  Saul!  He  could  most  properly  refer  to  himself  as  an  incontrovertible 
proof  of  his  message.  He  does  so  here  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians. 
He  does  it  elsewhere,  when  he  says  he  was  expressly  set  "  for  a  pattern 
to  them  who  should  hereafter  believe  on  Jesus  Christ  to  life  everlasting." 
He  does  it  again,  when  he  says  through  this  Christ  "  have  I  received 
grace  and  apostleship."  With  reference  to  time,  he  rightly  likens  him- 
self unto  "  one  born  out  of  due  time,"  a  Christian  community,  born  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  being  already  in  existence.  But  what  service,  neverthe- 
less, did  he  render  that  community  ! 

Consider  more  narrowly,  beloved  in  the  Lord,  the  history  of  this  Paul, 
who  was  once  a  Saul !  He  "  persecuted  the  church  of  God" — was  a  blind 
zealot  toward  God,  so  that  he  surpassed  many  of  his  equals.  What 
blindness !  what  perversity !  what  stubbornness !  Ah !  with  all  his 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  how  little  did  he  understand  them : — those 
Scriptures  which  he  afterward  found  to  testify  of  the  true  Christ,  and, 
according  to  which  he  often  preached  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as  the  real 
Messiah — him,  of  whom,  at  first,  he  would  not  know !  With  all  his 
Pharisaical  righteousness,  what  sensibility,  what  human  feeling  had  he  for 
the  illustrious  innocence  and  holiness  of  a  Stephen,  of  the  other  Christians 
whom  he  himself  afterward  calls  "  the  saints,"  and  complains  that  be 
had  persecuted  them  !  Yea,  he  was  exceedingly  mad  against  them,  so 
that  he  persecuted  them  even  unto  strange  cities,  compelling  them  to 
blaspheme,  and  "  verily  thought  with  himself,  that  he  ought  to  do  many 
things  contrary  to  the  name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth."  And,  nevertheless, 
as  you  all  know,  out  of  this  enemy,  the  Lord  made  for  himself  a  "chosen 
vessel,"  an  apostle,  and  a  witness,  above  all  others  !  With  firm  convic- 
tion, and  with  the  hottest  zeal  of  an  erring  conscience,  he  rushes  along 


THE    THREE     PILLARS     OP     OUR    FAITH.  81 

his  way,  until  before  the  gates  of  Damascus,  the  Lord  thundered  and 
lightened  his  I  am  he!  Why  tersecutest  thou  irE  ?  into  his  soul,  and 
from  that  hour  is  he  another  man.  Who  will  explain  the  transformation 
of  this  man,  and  of  his  whole  subsequent  life,  if  that  is  not  true,  which 
HE,  during  his  whole  life,  gave  as  the  reason  ;  if  he  did  not  really  ex- 
perience this  "  heavenly  vision  ?"  Who  can  describe  what  he,  as  an 
apostle  was,  what  he  wrought,  with  what  he  contended,  what  he  suffered, 
and  all  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  the  crucified,  besides  whom  he  was 
"  determined  to  know  no  other  ?"  Ye  must  yourselves  study  over  more 
industriously,  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  Epistles  of  Paul,  in  order 
to  obtain  the  whole  picture.  How  must  the  "  love  of  Christ  have  con- 
strained" him,  that  he  should  count  himself  "  debtor  both  to  the  Greeks 
and  to  the  barbarians,  both  to  the  wise  and  to  the  unwise,"  and  long  to 
"  present  every  man  perfect  in  Christ  Jesus."  Every  land  which  he  could 
but  reach  in  his  untiring  journeyings,  he  filled  with  the  sound  of  the 
gospel,  so  that  the  Jews  complained  bitterly,  "This  is  the  man  that 
teacheth  all  men,  everywhere !"  and,  when  he  can  not  travel  thither, 
sends  his  epistles  ;  and  when  in  chains  and  bonds  for  Christ's  sake, 
still  writes  A\'ithout  cessation,  in  order  to  strengthen  the  fliith  of  his 
distant  brethren  in  this  Christ. 

How  much  he  may  have  written,  of  which  we  know  nothing  now; 
and  in  what  we  have,  what  depths  of  love  and  divine  wisdom !  The 
wisest  of  earth  still  search  therein  with  astonishment  and  wondei*.  How 
many  Christian  churches  did  he  found  and  strengthen,  through  preach- 
ing in  power  and  in  patience,  through  incessant  prayer  and  individual 
exhortation  ;  how  he  interceded  for  all  his  children,  in  Christ  especially, 
as  indeed  for  all  his  Christian  brethren,  far  and  near !  How  close  to  his 
heart  he  bore  them  !  His  salutations  at  the  close  of  his  epistles  are  a 
testimony  thereof.  In  what  sufferings  and  afflictions  he  sti-uggled  inde- 
fatigably,  and  barely  with  his  life  ;  of  these  has  he  himself  told  us  in  two 
of  his  epistles.  In  the  holy  excess  of  his  zeal,  he  renounced  every  thing 
to  which  he  was  entitled — domestic  life  with  a  sister  in  Christ,  the  due 
reward  of  his  ofiice,  every  outward  quiet,  every  temporal  comfort  and 
enjolument — in  order  "to  spend  and  be  spent"  for  Christ — in  order  to 
give  his  whole  service  to  the  gospel.  He  even  labored  for  this  purpose 
with  his  hands.  He  is  inexorably  severe  with  himself,  "lest,  having 
preached  unto  others,  he  himself  should  be  a  castaway,"  He  "counts 
not  himself  to  have  ajiprehended  ;"  but  he  unceasingly  "  follows  after, 
that  he  may  apprehend  that  for  which  he  was  apprehended  of  Christ." 
He  is  full  of  wisdom,  yet  humble  as  a  child — full  of  thunderous  power 
and  might  of  soul,  yet  mild  and  loving  as  a  tender  mother  ;  yea,  he  lives 
in  the  love  which  comes  from  faith,  and  holds  flxst  his  hope  until  he  can 
cry :  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight.     I  have  finished  my  course  !" 

Was  this  some  natural  gift  (though  such  come  from  God)  ?  was  it 
some  native  power  of  soul  in  this  man  ?     It  is  true,  God,  who  "  sepa- 

6 


82  RUDOLF    STIER. 

ratetl  liiin  from  liis  mother's  womb,"  and  ordained  "to  reveal  his  Son  in 
liini,"  loaned  great  talents  to  him.  But  what  the  most  glorious  human 
nature  is,  while  in  its  blindness  and  sin,  is  shown  us  hi  his  life  as  Saul. 
That  he  now  stands  there  a  Paul.,  "  a  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,"  an  apos- 
tle of  the  world — that  he  has  now  first  come  to  understand  the  wisdom 
of  God,  and  his  fiery  zeal  found  its  true  aim  in  the  love  of  the  Saviour — 
that  is  a  "  Avorac  of  geace,"  as  he  himself  says.  "  But  by  the  grace  of 
God- 1  am  what  I  am,  and  his  grace  to  me  is  pot  in  vain,  for  I  have 
labored  more  than  they  all ;  yet  not  I,  but  the  grace  of  God  which  is  in 
me."  It  is  the  same  grace  of  God  for  which  the  jDublican  so  anxiously 
calls  :  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner ;"  and  which  in  Christ  became 
mauifest  as  saving  grace,  triumphant  over  all  sin.  It  is  the  grace  for 
which  Saul  had  not  once  prayed,  but  which  he  had  much  rather  resist, 
until  it  seized  him,  conquered,  and  ever  more  glorified  him. 

The  same  work  of  grace,  however,  which  we  have  seen  in  the  case  of 
Paul,  is,  in  different  forms,  but  ever  essentially  the  same,  to  be  seen  in 
the  case  of  all  the  other  apostles,  yea,  with  all  tlie  believers  from  the 
apostolic  age  down  to  the  present.  Jesus  is  a  Lord  and  Saviour  as  he  is 
preached,  for  he  maketh  sinners  saints,  converts  enemies  and  opposers 
into  faithful  servants — makes  the  old  new,  the  earthly  heavenly ;  this  has 
he  done  and  ever  done,  praised  be  his  holy  name ! 

Therefore  stands  his  gospel  immovably  fast  upon  the  triple  foundation 
ol'  which  we  have  spoken.  We  still  have  the  entire  Scriptures  ;  the 
testimony  of  the  eye-vntnesses  still  speaks  to  us ;  yea,  the  history  of  the 
church  of  Christ  is  so  closely  interwoven  with  the  history  of  the  whole 
world,  that  either  nothing  which  is  told  us  by  our  fathers  can  be  true,  or 
the  foundation  on  which  the  flxith  of  this  church  stands,  is  true.  Not 
only  are  wq  still  "  compassed  about  with  the  cloud  of  witnesses,"  still 
speaks  to  us  not  only  the  host  of  the  ah-eady-redeemed  of  the  Lord,  but 
that  host  augments  with  every  generation  ;  and  from  Paul  and  Cephas, 
down  to  the  least  of  all  who  really  believe  on  the  Son  of  God,  sounds 
forth  the  confession  from  every  soul :  "-Sy  the  grace  of  God,  I  am  ichat 
I  am!''''  Will  you  not,  beloved,  unitedly  learn  this  jubilant  shout? 
Will  any  of  you  "frustrate  the  grace  of  God,"  by  believing  the  gospel 
"  in  vain  ?"  It  has  been  proclaimed  to  us ;  we  all  received  it  with  our 
baptismal  confession  ;  we  stand  therein  as  members  of  Christendom  ;-0, 
let  us  all  be  careful  that  "  v^e  be  sdvecl  thereby  .■'"  "  The  gospel  of  Christ 
is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  bclieveth."  How 
shall  we  escape  "judgment,"  if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation,  which  at 
first  began  to  be  spoken  by  the  Lord,  and  was  confirmed  unto  us  by  them 
that  heard  him — God  also  bearing  them  witness  with  signs  and  wonders, 
and  with  divers  miracles,  and  with  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  according  to 
his  own  will  ?  Nay,  let  us  grasp  the  grace  which  is  offered  us,  accept 
and  hold  fast  the  gospel  Avhieh  brings  us  this  grace,  and  give  ourselves 
up  wholly  to  Ciir.TST,  vrho  has  "■died  for  n^  and  rose  again,"     Amen, 


DISCOURSE    VI. 

FREU).   WILLIAISI    KRUMMACHER,  D.  D. 

■Br  common  consent  the  famous  author  of  "  Elijah  the  Tishbite"  is  considered  the 
most  eloquent  preacher  in  Germany,  if  not  indeed  in  Europe.  Certainly  there  are 
few  men  abroad  whose  names  are  better  known  in  the  Christian  world,  and  more 
beloved  for  their  "  works'  sake."  The  book  named  above  extended  widely  hia 
popularity,  both  in  Europe  and  America ;  and,  taken  in  connection  with  his  "  Last 
Days  of  Elisha,"  "  The  Martyr  Lamb,"  and,  more  recently,  "  The  Suffering  Saviour," 
it  has  reared  for  him  a  rijmembrance  more  enduring  than  monuments  of  marble  and 
brass.  In  some  respects,  the  last-named  of  the  above  publications,  is  superior  to 
any  thing  else  that  has  come  from  this  great  master's  pen.  The  narrative  of  the 
last  days  of  our  Lord  on  earth  was  never  given  with  more  thrilUng  vividness,  and 
pathos,  and  beauty,  by  uninspired  man. 

Dr.  Krummacher  is  now  about  midway  between  fifty  and  sixty  years  of  age.  He 
"has  the  honor  of  being  chaplain  to  the  King  of  Prussia.  His  influence  with  the 
king  is  very  great,  and  may  go  to  account  for  some  of  the  liberal  measures  which 
of  late  reflected  honor  upon  the  Prussian  court.  The  sermons  of  the  great  preacher 
in  his  chaplaincy,  are  said  to  be  sometimes  like  earthquakes.  Personally,  Krum- 
maclier  is  represented  as  a  delightful  man.  He  is  thus  described  as  seen  by  Dr. 
Abel  Stevens,  a  year  or  so  ago,  at  the  meeting  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance,  where 
lie  took  an  active  part :  "  His  hair  is  light,  but  not  gray ;  it  is  combed  sleekly  over 
Ids  ears ;  his  eyes,  peering  through  bright  gold  spectacles,  are  blue,  and  expressive 
of  mildness  of  character,  notwithstanding  the  roaring  ferocity  of  his  voice.  He  is  in 
good  condition,  inchning  a  little  to  episcopal  dimensions.  There  is  a  peculiar  bland- 
ness  and  youthfulness  about  him  which  recalls  to  you  the  title  of  '  the  ever  youth- 
ful,' which  was  apphed  to  his  great  countryman,  the  poet  Klopstock." 

Some  of  Krummacher's  pecuharities  are  well  brought  out  in  this  additional  reminis- 
cence of  Dr.  Stevens :  "  When  I  told  him,  the  other  night,  at  a  tea-party,  the  num- 
ber of  some  of  the  editions  of  his  "  Elijah"  among  us,  and  that  it  was  read  in  our 
log-cabins,  in  California  and  Oregon,  he  seemed  hardly  to  beheve  me,  for  the  extent 
of  the  American  press  is  scarcely  known  in  Europe ;  and  when  I  assured  him  that  if 
he  would  come  to  New  York  we  could  place  him  in  sections  of  the  city  where  for 
whole  squares  he  could  read  German  '  signs,'  and  hear  the  children  playing  in  Ger- 
man ;  and  if  he  liked  'lager  bier,'  drown  himself  in  an  ocean  of  it,  he  laughed  as  you 
might  suppose  a  lion  would  were  it  in  the  habit  of  that  noble  creature  to  laugh  at 
all,  his  mighty  voice  ringing  into  the  adjacent  apartments.  But  suppose  not  that 
tnere  was  any  thing  peculiarly  humorous  in  my  remarks,  or  uncommon  in  Krum- 
macher's uproarious  outbreaks.     It  is  the  '  vocal  style'  of  the  man.     What  the 


34  FRED.    WILLIAM    KRUMMACHER. 

watchman  said  of  George  Whitefield  can  be  said  of  this  great  G-erman :  '  Ht 
preaches  like  a  Hon !'  He  not  only  preaches  but  prays  so,  and  makes  speeches,  and 
even  '  says  grace'  at  the  table  in  the  same  manner.  He  introduced  our  public 
dinner  the  other  day  with  a  '  grace'  in  German,  which  was  roared  out  as  if  ad- 
dressed to  an  army  half  a  mile  off.  Of  course  this  peculiarity  surprises  every  body 
at  first,  but  you  soon  get  accustomed  to  it.  Whether  it  arises  from  good  Gotliic 
heartiness  or  is  a  vocal  defect  I  know  not." 

We  are  happy  in  being  able  to  present  to  American  readers,  now  for  the  first 
time,  a  sermon  of  Dr.  Krummacher's,  in  which  appear  to  advantage  so  many  of  hia 
best  qualities  as  a  preacher. 


THE  INTERVIEW  AT  JACOB'S  WELL. 

That  is  Tbut  a  miserable  life,  my  brethren,  in  which  there  is  not  a 
knowledge  of  Christ.  It  is  a  journey  in  the  night,  without  guide  or 
star — a  voyage  by  sea,  without  compass  or  helm — a  traveling  into  a  far 
country,  without  aim,  object,  or  acquaintance.  However  outwardly 
brilliant  such  a  life  may  appear,  it  is  but  a  miserable  existence — a 
WTetched  rejoicing,  a  melancholy  gladness,  a  pitiable  peace,  an  empty 
unrefreshing  hope.  Alas !  thou  poor  and  wretched  worldling  !  thou 
who  art  destitute  of  Christ,  who  standest  in  thine  own  strength — thou, 
who  art  left  to  thyself,  thrown  upon  thyself,  O  !  that  thou  didst  but 
know  how  poor  and  miserable  thou  art ;  that  thou  didst  but  discern 
the  darkness  in  which  thou  art  dwelling ;  the  storm  of  eternal  ruin  that 
is  brooding  o'er  thine  head.  Ah !  behold,  deep  floods  are  gathering 
around,  and  there  is  no  pilot  to  guide  thee  o'er ;  vast  yawning  chasms, 
and  there  is  no  bridge,  nor  hast  thou  wings  ;  blazing  flames,  and  there  is 
no  water  to  quench  them ;  waste  howling  deserts  surround  thfee,  full  of 
hissing  serpents  and  rapacious  beasts,  and  there  is  no  way  of  escape,  no 
conductor  near  thee  ;  sandy  plains  without  water,  deserts  without  bread 
or  refreshment.  An  awful  judgment-seat,  fearful  anathemas,  the  wrath 
of  the  Almighty,  and  none  to  intercede — no  one  to  hold  up  the  shield 
before  thee,  or  have  mercy  upon  thee. 

Behold  an  image  of  thy  life  in  time  and  in  eternity !  A  gloomy 
night-piece  certainly ;  nevertheless  such  is  thy  state,  and  thus  thou  art 
encompassed  out  of  Christ.  Far  better  thou  hadst  ne'er  been  boi-n, 
than  thus  to  live  without  Christ.  Canst  thou  question  this  ?  And 
where  are  we  to  look  for  Christ  ?  "  I  am  the  rose  of  Sharon,"  said  the 
Lord.  Cant.,  ii.  1,  Yea,  a  precious  rose — one  which  bloomed  before 
the  thi'one  of  God  ere  the  foundations  of  the  world  were  laid  ;  and  was 
the  joy  and  desire  of  angels  and  seraphim — a  rose  which  deigned  to 
take  root  in  accursed  ground,  to  blossom  among  thorns  and  thistles, 
and  gladden,  by  its  fragrance,  a  sinful  world. 


THE    INTERVIEW     AT    JACOB'S    WELL.  85 

A  rose,  which,  while  yet  a  bud,  elevated  a  Simeou  with  joy  to  heaven, 
and  bowed  the  knees  of  wise  men  to  the  dust.  A  rose,  which,  at  Gol- 
gotha was  steeped  in  its  own  crimson,  and  there  first  opened  its  calyx 
to  exhale  the  fullness  of  its  perfume  through  the  world.  It  blossoms  in 
the  valley,  and  he  who  discovers  it  finds  it  not  on  the  tops  and  heights 
of  his  own  wisdom  and  righteousness.  Where  Christ  dwells  by  his 
grace,  he  levels  the  mountains,  and  brings  down  the  high  hills.  "  I  am 
the  rose  of  the  valley,"  saith  the  Lord,  and  it  is  in  the  dark  depths  of 
self-annihilation,  in  the  valley  of  repentance,  that  the  sin-convinced  soul 
finds  him. 

May  our  meditation  of  to-day  afford  us  an  opportunity  of  thus  con- 
templating the  Lord  Jesus. 

"  Then  cometh  he  to  a  city  of  Samaria,  which  is  called  Sychar,  near 
to  the  parcel  of  ground  that  Jacob  gave  to  his  son  Joseph.''^  "  JVoio 
Jacob'' s  well  was  there.  Jesus  therefore,  being  icearied  with  his  journey, 
sat  thus  on  the  well ;  and  it  icas  about  the  sixth  hour?''  "  Then  cometh 
a  woman  of  Samaria  to  draw  water.  Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Give  me  to 
dri?ik,^^  etc.,  etc. — John,  iv.  5-29. 

What  a  histoiy,  my  brethren !  It  stands  before  us  as  a  luxuriant 
vine,  laden  with  precious  grapes.  Where  shall  we  commence  to  draw 
aside  the  hiding  foliage  of  words,  in  order  to  exhibit  the  golden  fi  uits 
concealed  beneath  them.  Truly  there  is  here  too  much  for  one  medita- 
tion, and  yet  the  history  can  scarcely  be  divided ;  for  it  requires  to  be 
c6nsidered,  weighed,  and  felt  in  continuation,  without  interruption,  and 
in  its  coia  ection.  I  feel  it  thus ;  therefore  be  satisfied,  my  brethren,  if, 
mstead  of  profound  exposition,  I  give  but  a  few  weak  and  passing  re- 
marks. Our  history  is  like  all  the  narratives  of  the  Bible — both  matter 
of  fact  and  example.  In  a  particular  truth  lies  the  deepest  general 
Bense,  It  is  not  alone  the  conversion  of  the  woman  of  Samaria  that  we 
are  here  called  upon  to  note,  but  the  process  which  takes  place  in  the 
conversion  of  most  sinners. 

In  this  twofold  view  we  will  consider  our  text,  dividing  it  into  three 
parts: — The  Preparation,  ver.  4-15.  The  Crisis,  ver.  16-27.  The 
Decision. 

I.  The  Peeparatiox. — The  narrative  carries  us  to  Samaria.  There, 
beside  the  well  of  Jacob,  which  is  situated  nigh  to  Sychar,  sits  a 
stranger.  It  is  he  who  came  into  the  world  not  to  ffid  rest,  but  to 
bestoto  it.  The  world  had  wearied  him  by  its  enmity  and  malice.  Ask 
not  how  he,  who  called  himself "  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  could 
be  wearied ;  but  rather  ask,  my  brother,  how  it  was  possible  that  thou, 
even  thou,  from  thine  infancy,  could  be  found  wearying,  by  thy  resist- 
ance, the  most  faithful  friend  of  ihy  soul.  "Jesus  sat  thus  on  the  well; 
for  his  disciples  were  gone  away  into  the  city  to  purchase  meat.  Then 
cometh  a  woman  of  Samaria  from  Sychar  to  draw  water."  She  came 
at  d  most  approj)riate  hour,  but  she  came  not  by  accident.     The  Father 


g(]  FEED.    WILLIAM     KRUMMACHEE. 

drew  the  poor  sinner  to  the  Son,  in  order  thut  she  might  be  healed.  But 
she  knew  it  not.  She  approached  with  a  hght  spirit ;  a  child  of  the 
world  like  thousands  ;  without  thought,  without  a  sense  of  her  neces- 
sities ;  liAang,  but  for  the  present  moment,  without  God  in  the  world, 
and  knowing  as  little  of  the  solemn  responsibilities  of  life,  and  the  con- 
cerns of  eternity,  as  the  birds  of  the  air,  or  the  flowers  of  the  fields. 
She  sought  to  draw  water  for  her  household ;  that  was  now  her  sole 
object ;  and,  doubtless,  until  this  hour,  her  life  had  been  naught  else 
than  the  fetching  of  bread  and  water  to  allay  the  cra^dngs  of  the  flesh. 
What  a  state  of  existence !  The  woman  has  arrived  at  the  fountain, 
and,  apparently  not  heeding  the  stranger,  prepares  to  replenish  her  vessel. 

The  Lord  now  addressed  her,  "  Give  me  to  drink."  In  these  words 
we  may  discern  the  first  cast  of  the  gospel-net  for  this  perishing  soul. 
"  Give  me  to  drink."  This  was  not  simply  the  desire  of  having  his  ne- 
cessity supplied,  but  the  out-goings  of  his  spirit  for  the  salvation  of  a 
soul.  He  sought  to  engage  the  woman  in  conversation,  in  order  to  lead 
her  thoughts  from  the  things  of  time  and  sense  to  those  of  life  and 
eternity.  His  meat  and  drink  was  to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  him, 
and  to  finish  his  work ;  this  was  indeed  the  drink  he  desired  at  the  well 
of  Jacob.  "  Give  me  to  drink."  Yes,  with  such  words  as  these  it  still 
pleases  him  to  begin  the  work  of  our  salvation.  And  when  he  urges 
upon  us  those  great  commands,  "Be  ye  perfect,  as  your  Father  in 
heaven  is  perfect ;  be  pure  of  heart ;  be  merciful ;  love  the  Lord  above 
all ;"  and  makes  the  outward  law  the  law  of  our  hearts ;  come  to  the 
soul  with  "  Thou  shalt  and  thou  shalt  not ;"  lays  upon  us  the  command 
to  serve  him  willingly  and  in  holiness ;  calls  upon  us  to  present  our  lives 
a  sacrifice  of  praise  and  thanksgiving  in  his  courts;  what  is  it  else  but 
a  call  of  "  Give  me  to  drink,"  to  cisterns  without  water  ? 

But  by  such  "  Give  me,"  he  seeks  to  bring  us  to  a  knov>dedge  and 
sense  of  our  own  nothingness,  that  we  have  nothing,  and  can  do  nothing, 
in  order  that  when,  like  the  woman  of  Samaria,  we  are  compelled  to 
cry  out  "  Sir,  give  me  of  this  well,"  he  might  give  us  to  drink  of 
his  fullness.  "  Give  me  to  drink."  The  woman,  occupied  with  earthly 
things,  understood  not  the  meaning  of  the  stranger  of  Israel.  More  in 
jest  than  in  seriousness,  she  discovers  the  prejudice  of  her  nation  ; 
"  How  is  it  that  thou,  being  a  Jew,  askest  drink  of  me,  which  am  a 
woman  of  Samaria  ?  for  the  Jews,"  adds  the  Apostle  John,  "  have  no 
dealings  with  the  Samaritans."  She  sees  in  him  but  a  common  Jew. 
HoAV  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  for  in  his  light  only  shall  we  see  the  hght, 
for  he  is  himself  the  light.  Jesus  now  proceeds  to  direct  her  attention 
to  spiritual  things,  and  gives  her  to  understand  that  he  is  something 
more  than  a  Jew  ;  and  that  there  was  likewise  nourishment  for  the  soul 
as  well  as  food  for  the  body.  "If  thou  knewest  the  gift  of  God,  and 
who  it  is  that  saith  to  thee,  Give  me  to  drink,  thou  wouldst  have  asked 
of  him  ;  and  he  would  have  given  thee  iivhig  water." 


THE     INT]-:RVIEW     at     JACOB'S     WELL.  S* 

Yes;  if  thou  knewest!  Trdy,  all  depends  ixpon  that:  for  if  thou 
knewest  how  to  vahie,  how  to  api^reciate  him,  the  great  gift  of  grace  to 
the  world,  and  the  waters  of  his  grace,  of  thy  peace — soon  wouldst  thou 
have  deliverance.  But  the  knowledge  of  salvation  by  Christ,  the  esti- 
mate of  its  nature  and  value,  are  not  acquired  by  study,  by  the  instruc- 
tion of  another,  in  the  way  of  reflection,  or  by  intellectual  measuring  or 
weighing.  That  knovrledge  ascends  from  the  inmost  soul;  it  comes  with 
the  hunger  and  thirst  of  the  soul,  with  the  cry  of  a  broken  spirit.  No 
one  can,  in  the  scriptural  sense,  know  Christ  and  his  salvation,  even 
should  he  be  able  to  discourse  of  him  "w-ith  the  eloquence  of  an  angel  oi 
light,  if  he  have  not  at  the  same  time  been  taught  to  know  himself,  his 
own  nothingness  and  misery,  as  a  lost  and  wretched  sinner.  "  If  thou 
knewest" — but  the  woman  of  Samaria  did  not  know.  She  understood 
not  the  words  that  Jesus  spoke  concerning  himself  and  the  w^ater  of  his 
grace.  She  interpreted  him  literally,  in  the  flesh,  and  concluded  that  by 
living  water,  he  meant  the  water  of  a  spring,  in  opposition  to  the  stand- 
ing water  of  the  well  of  Jacob.  "  Sir,"  saith  she,  "  thou  hast  nothing 
to  draw  with,  and  the  well  is  deep ;"  if  even  there  were  a  spring  at 
the  bottom,  thou  canst  not  reach  it ;  from  whence  then  hast  thou  that 
living  water  ?  And  how  is  it  possible  to  be  water  from  a  living  spring  ? 
She  continues,  m  her  blindness,  "Art  thou  greater  than  our  father 
Jacob,  which  gave  us  the  well,  and  drank  thereof  himself,  and  his  chil- 
dren, and  his  cattle  ?"  Yes,  yes,  woman  ;  he  is  greater.  O,  that  thou 
knewest ! 

The  Lord  is  not  wearied  ;  he  explains  more  plainly  to  her  the  differ- 
ence between  natui-al  and  spiritual  water.  "  Behold,"  he  says,  plainly 
and  distinctly,  "  whosoever  drinketh  of  this  water  shall  thirst  again  ; 
but  whosoever  drinketh  of  the  water  that  I  shall  give  him" — the  watei- 
of  my  grace,  my  light,  my  peace,  and  my  joy — "  shall  never  thirst ;"  the 
same  hath  that  which  satistieth  his  soul  and  maketh  him  happy.  Yea, 
the  water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  be  i7i  him  a  well  of  water  spiinging 
up  into  everlasting  life ;  it  shall  continue  in  him,  increase  and  form  in  him 
the  new  life,  which  never  dies — the  beginning  of  that  etei-nal  life  to  be 
perfected  above.  The  woman  could  noAV  no  longer  misunderstand  the 
Lord's  meaning.  She  perceives  that  he  speaks  to  her  heart  and  addresses 
himself  to  her  soul.  This  serious  turn  was  not  welcome  to  her;  for  as 
yet,  she  had  no  desire  for  spiritual  things.  What  is  the  consequence  ? 
She  turns  aside  and  interrupts  the  Lord  abruptly  :  "  Sir,  give  me  this 
water,  that  I  thirst  not ;  neither  come  hither  to  draw."  Thus  she  speaks, 
anxious  to  depart.  We  might  conclude  from  her  ignorant  and  foolish 
conduct,  that  she  had  not  yet  understood  the  words  which  had  been 
spoken  unto  her;  but  we  are  better  informed.  At  the  commencement, 
she  certainly  understood  not  the  Lord  ;  but  now,  Avhen  she  could  not 
fail  to  perceive  his  meaning,  she  willingly  c'oses  her  eyes,  for  the  love  oi 
the  world  was  still  strong  within. 


88  i^EED.    WILLIAM    KRUMMACIIER. 

But  who  among  us  will  dare  to  cast  the  first  stone  at  her  ?  Did  we 
never  act  thus  ?  When  the  divine  call  is  made  known  to  man,  and 
thoughts  of  God,  judgment,  and  eternity  are  brought  home  to  him, 
when  "one  thing  is  needful"  echoes  in  his  heart;  and  "Set  thy  house 
in  order,"  finds  him  in  the  bustle  of  the  world ;  he  i^  disturbed,  and  the 
first  ini2>ulse  is  to  turn  aside,  and  all  that  is  within  him  cries  aloud, 
"  have  me  excused,"  Yes,  yes,  I  wUl  be  religious  some  other  time ;  to- 
day it  is  not  convenient.  But  the  Scripture  declares,  "  To-day  if  ye  will 
hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts." 

II.  The  Crisis. — The  preparation  for  the  conversion  of  the  w^oman  ot 
Samaria  is  made.  She  has  now  received  the  first  knowledge  of  a  life 
that  is  not  of  this  w^orld,  but  from  above ;  and  has  learned  something  o± 
a  higher  and  eternal  destination.  The  Lord  guides  her  further;  and 
0 !  what  wonders  of  the  inward  life  do  we  see  unfolding  in  the  progress 
of  our  history !  It  does  not  escape  the  searcher  of  hearts,  that  the 
woman  had  understood  him,  but  did  not  desire  to  do  so,  and  was  now 
about  to  stifle  in  its  germ  the  conviction  of  a  s^Diritual  destitution  which 
was  gradually  increasing  within  her.  This  must  not  be.  The  woman 
Khali  now  learn  to  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness. 

Apparently  breakmg  up  the  conversation  and  particular  train  oi 
thoughts,  but  in  reality  continuing  the  delicate  and  intimate  connection, 
Jesus  saitb  untc  her,  '  Go  call  thy  husband,  and  come  hither."  This 
I'eaches  her  heart;,  it  becomes  an  arrow  in  hev  conscience.  Dost  thou 
perceive  this?  She  perceives  it  perfectly,  and  stands  embarrassed, 
blushing,  and  disturbed,  for  the  arrow  has  touched  the  mark.  The  man- 
ner of  the  Lord's  address  must  also  have  increased  the  inward  storm. 
He  had,  as  it  were,  named  her  sin,  though  not  by  words ;  had  so  ex- 
pressed himself,  that  it  only  remained  with  her  to  name  her  guilt,  and 
pronounce  the  judgment.  If  he  had  said  to  her.  Thou  sinner,  thou  livest 
in  an  unlawful  state,  in  forbidden  intercourse  ;  probably  instead  of  shame, 
wrath,  bitterness,  and  defiance  would  have  taken  possession  of  her  soul. 
But  he  has  approached  her  with  gentleness — nevertheless,  so  bruising  a 
gentleness  ;  a  censure  concealed,  yet  so  clear  and  evident — that  she  has 
become  ashamed  and  humbled,  instead  of  angry  and  defying.  Can  we 
snfliciently  admire  the  divine  wisdom,  mercy,  and  love  reflected  in  the 
conduct  of  Christ  toward  this  poor  Samaritan  ? 

But  how  does  she  escape  from  the  difiiculty  ?  In  the  confusion  of  the 
moment  she  denies,  saying,  "  I  have  no  husband !"  Does  this  avail  her  ? 
No.  A  second  arrow  succeeds  to  the  first.  Jesus  said  unto  her,  "  Thou 
hast  well  said,  I  have  no  husband.  For  thou  hast  had  five  husbands ; 
ind  he  whom  thou  now  hast  is  not  thy  husband."  Further  denial  was  no 
longer  to  be  thought  of  And  what  is  the  result?  Rejoice,  ye  angels 
of  God !  The  Lord  has  conquered  !  The  sinner  stands  with  down- 
cast eyes ;  her  deep  and  rapid  breathing  sufticiently  attesting  her  inward 
emotion  !     She  acquiesces  in  silence ;  and  evidently  under  the  influence 


THE    INTERVIEW    AT    JACOB'S    WELL.  89 

of  a  godly  sorrow  and  auxiety,  adds,  "  Sir,  I  perceive  tliou  art  a 
prophet !" 

Behold,  my  brethren,  the  progress  of  salvation,  through  the  hell  ol 
self-knowledge  and  repentance.  When  the  gospel  has  been  published  to 
us,  the  Lord  impresses  it  upon  our  minds ;  and  by  it,  discovers  to  us  our 
manifold  transgressions.  As  lightning  from  the  clouds,  comes  the  convic- 
tion to  our  souls,  "  Thou  hast  been  guilty  of  this  and  that  evil  in  the 
sight  of  the  Lord."  We  start,  endeavor  to  throw  oft*  the  consciousness, 
deny,  excuse,  and  seek  to  enter  again  into  rest,  but  all  in  vain.  The 
Nathan  within  us  will  be  heard.  He  elevates  his  voice,  enumerates  our 
sins,  and  condemns  us  more  decisively.  We  resist  and  endeavor  to  drive 
from  us  the  dark  and  wounding  thoughts ;  but,  rooted  firmly,  they 
cleave  to  our  souls.  The  heart  still  struggles,  roars,  and  becomes  .dark- 
ened, until  brought  at  length  to  feel  and  to  confess,  that  we  have  sinned 
before  God  and  man,  and  that  it  is  the  Lord  who  sits  withm  us  m  judg- 
ment. What  do  we  then  ?  Surrender,  mourn,  confess,  and  from  the 
inmost  soul  breaks  forth  the  cry,  "  What  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" 

But  let  us  return  to  the  w^oman  of  Samaria.  "  Our  fathers,"  said  she, 
"  Avorshiped  in  this  mountain,  and  ye  say,  that  in  Jerusalem  is  the  place 
where  men  ought  to  worship."  This  would  seem  a  turning  away  from 
the  preceding  conversation.  Is  it  not  so  ?  But  let  us  contemplate  it 
closer,  and  w^e  shall  discern  the  most  intimate  connection  in  spirit,  if  not 
in  words.  The  woman  was  anxious  concerning  her  sins,  and  she  clearly 
saw  that  it  must  become  otherwise  with  her.  She  felt  thus,  I  dare  not 
remain  ;  I  am  fallen  from  God ;  I  must  return ;  my  relation  to  him  must 
alter.  These,  no  doubt,  were  the  lively  and  powerful  feelings  that  sug- 
gested the  question  in  which  so  much  was  implied,  that  the  great  Searcher 
of  hearts  comprehended  her.  "  Our  fathers  worshiped  in  this  mountain, 
and  ye  say,  that  in  Jerusalem  is  the  place  where  men  ought  to  worship." 
"  Where,"  she  would  have  said,  "  where  shall  I  now  find  the  Lord  ?  How- 
approach  him  immediately  ?  How  shall  I  serve  him  ?"  That  the  out- 
ward service,  after  the  manner  of  the  fathers,  was  not  the  true  one,  her 
heart  had  already  told  her.  0,  how  gloriously  does  the  new  life  gradually 
unfold  itself  m  her  heart !  What  progress  has  she  already  made !  At 
the  commencement  she  understood  naught  concerning  spiritual  things ; 
again,  she  would  not  understand  them,  but  denies  her  sins,  then  sur- 
renders, confesses,  repents,  and  noAv  sighs  after  God,  and  desires  to  be 
reconciled  to  him.     How  must  the  Lord  have  rejoiced  ! 

But  the  woman  is  still  laboring  under  an  error ;  this  must  be  corrected. 
She  appears  to  think  that  it  is  in  her  o^vn  power  to  change  her  life  and 
return  unto  the  true  worship  of  God !  If  she  but  knew  how  and  Avhere 
to  find  God,  she  would  be  reconciled  to  him,  and  be  able  to  serve  him  in 
the  right  way !  In  order  to  convince  her  of  her  error,  Jesus  discovers 
to  her  in  what  the  true  service  of  God  consisted,  and  how  he  required  to 
be  worshiped.     "  Woman,"  saith  he,  "  believe  me,  the  hour  cometh 


90  FRED.    WILLIAM    KRUMMACHER. 

when  ye  fe'hall,  neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem  worshif 
the  Father ;"  that  is,  the  time  is  coming  when  the  outward  worship  shall 
give  place  to  that  of  the  heart.  "  Ye  worship,  ye  know  not  what ;"  your 
knowledge  and  worship  is  not  the  true  one ;  "  but  we  know  what  we 
worship,  for  salvation  is  of  the  Jews."  What  salvation  did  the  Lord 
mean  ?  None  other  than  the  worship  of  himself — the  Saviour  of  the 
world ;  he  by  whom  alone  we  know  the  Father  and  are  made  capable  of 
Avorshiping  him.  Jesus  continues  :  "  But  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is? 
when  the  true  worshipers  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth ; 
for  the  Father  seeketh  such  to  worship  him.  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they 
that  worship  him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth." 

The  woman  liearkens,  is  startled,  is  silent,  and  reflects — in  spirit  and  in 
truth,  that  is,  with  a  spiritual  mind,  true  desire  of  soid,  an  inward  draw- 
ing of  love,  a  pure  God-indwelling  heart — "In  such  a  way  have  7" never 
worshiped  the  Father — wretched  woman !  But  now  will  I  do  so,  for 
such  the  Father  seeks,  saith  the  prophet.  But  am  I  able  to  do  thus  ? — 
in  spirit  and  i?i  truth,  with  a  godly  heart  and  a  sjiiritual  mind?"  Thus 
she  meditates,  and  is  almost  overwhelmed  with  anxiety  and  sorrow.  At 
length  she  bursts  forth,  like  one  who  has  discerned,  with  joyful  surprise, 
a  light  amid  the  darkness  of  night,  "  I  know  that  Messiah  cometh, 
which  is  called  Christ ;  when  he  is  come,  he  will  tell  us  all  things."  O  ! 
how  wonderful,  how  glorious  !  how  must  have  throbbed  the  heart  of  the 
great  Friend  of  sinners  ! 

III.  Behold  the  Decision. 

This  was  what  he  designed  to  accomplish.  This  was  the  true  Avorship 
of  the  Father,  even  the  deep  consciousness  of  her  sins,  and  of  her  utter 
impotence !  And  how  glorious  is  his  success !  Yea,  she  now  apprehends 
that  she  is  not  only  sinful  and  blind,  but  also  poor,  wretched,  miserable,  des- 
titute and  spiritually  dead !  She  now  feels  her  distance  from  God,  and  that 
she  has  no  power  in  herself  to  be  i-econciled  to  him,  Airived  at  this  point, 
she  at  once  rests  all  hope  upon  the  promised  Christ.  To  him  she  flies 
from  the  fearful  storm.  "  When  he  comes  he  will  tell  us  all  things,"  and 
he  will  deliver  even  me.  "  I  knoAv  that  Messias  cometh."  Who  can  tell 
how  long  this  knowledge  had  lain  buried  in  the  ruined  soul?  But  now 
is  it  become  spirit  and  life.  "  As  the  king  turned,"  sings  the  Shiilamite, 
"  then  my  spikenard  gave  forth  its  fragrance."  O  woman  !  blessed  art 
thou,  who  seest  what  kings  and  prophets  desired  to  see,  and  died  without 
the  sight.  The  man  before  whom  she  stands  now  looks  upon  her  ;  that 
look  she  may  yet  remember  Avith  joy  in  heaven ! 

He  opens  his  mouth,  and  speaks.  How  much  may  have  been  expressed 
in  the  glance  which  accompanied  the  Avords,  "  I  that  speak  unto  thee  am 
he."  Who?  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  AA'orld—f Ay  Saviour?  What 
noAV  takes  place  in  the  heart  of  this  highly  flivored  woman,  who  sees 
herself  suddenly  on  the  very  brink  of  the  well  of  redemption  and  grac^, 
the  Avatei-s  of  Avhich  satisfy  the  soul  tt)  all  eternity  ?     Shall  I  endeavor 


THE     INTERVIEW     AT     JAGuL'b     Vv'ELL.  91 

to  describe  it  to  you  ?  O  my  brethren  in  the  Lord,  can  you  not  remem- 
ber the  hour  when  the  Saviour  withdrew  from  your  groaning  and  longing 
souls  the  blinding  scales ;  when  for  the  first  time  you  could  exclaim,  with 
unquestionable  certainty,  "  Truly  it  is  he."  When  for  the  first  time  you 
sank  ujiou  the  ground  before  him ;  for  the  first  time,  with  the  bold  free 
dom  of  the  child,  you  wcjjt  and  implored,  and  for  the  first  time  received 
out  of  his  fullness  pardon,  grace,  rest  and  peace.  Remember  that  hour, 
and  you  will  realize  the  scene  at  Sychar,  when  these  words  were  uttered 
by  the  Lord  :  "  I  that  speak  unto  thee  am  he."  Enough  ;  the  crisis  had 
arrived  !  The  old  woman  of  Samaria  died,  and  there  now  arose  another 
from  her  grave.  The  sinner  was  pardoned,  the  impotent  strengthened, 
the  darkened  enlightened,  the  mourner  comforted,  and  the  estranged  one 
reconciled  in  Chiist,  and  received  to  the  bosom  of  the  Father. 

The  disciples  are  returned  from  the  city,  and  are  marveling  at  their 
Master's  condescension  in  entering  into  conversation  with  a  woman  of 
Samaria.  They  knew  not  the  greatness,  nor  the  fullness  of  his  love  to 
sinners.  They  must  have  had,  however,  some  secret  thoughts  upon  the 
subject;  "for  no  man  said,  AVhat  seekest  thou  ?  or.  Why  talkest  thou 
with  her  ?"  But  let  us  not  be  interrupted  by  the  disciples  ;  rather  let  our 
thoughts  rest  upon  the  woman.  But  where  is  she  now  ?  The  water-pot 
stands  beside  the  well,  but  she  is  away,  as  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  alike 
regardless  of  her  household  and  her  water-pot.  She  remembers  only  the 
brethren.  "  She  went  her  way  into  the  city."  She  tells  of  the  blessing 
she  has  found  to  all  she  meets  ;  she  calls  together  the  erring,  the  stray- 
ing, the  weary,  and  the  heavy-laden,  that  they  also  may  be  comforted 
and  refreshed. 

Ah !  how  are  we  strengthened  upon  the  first  entrance  of  the  living 
Christ  into  our  hearts,  upon  the  first  personal  acquaintance  with  the  Son 
of  David  !  He  only  knows  who  has  experienced  it ;  for  it  can  not  be 
described.  Every  thing  acquires  other  forms  and  other  colors  ;  we  five 
in  a  world  through  which  the  Friend  of  sinners  invisibly  walks ;  we  ti-avel 
on  a  journey,  and  our  companion  is  the  Son  of  God ;  we  dwell  within  a 
prison,  yet  we  dwell  not  alone,  for  though  we  discern  no  one,  Jesus  is 
with  us.  How  changed  is  our  position  with  reference  to  heaven  and 
eartli  !  How  changed  our  relation  to  men,  to  angels,  and  to  devils ! 
How  difierent  the  views  wo  take  of  all  things  in  the  world  !  That  which 
the  natural  man  called  excellent,  the  new  man  calls  worthless,  and  casts 
from  him;  that  which  delighted  the  one,  is  now  found  tedious  and 
wearying  to  the  other.  Willingly  we  abandon  the  water-pot  of  earthly 
pleasure  when  we  have  tasted  of  other  waters,  and  have  our  springs  in 
thee,  thou  Rock  of  our  Salvation  !  Now  Mary  Magdalene  throws  aside 
her  ornaments  to  purchase  the  precious  ointment  for  the  feast  of  lier 
Lord  and  Master.  The  rich  young  man  turns  from  the  bustling  scenes 
of  vanity  and  lust,  and  erects  his  dwelling  beside  the  peaceful  of  the  land 
upon  Mount  Zion.     The  ruler  Nicodemus  seeks  no  longer  eminence  and 


92  FRED.  WILLIAM  KRUM  MA  CHER. 

distinction,  but  prefers,  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  to  suffer  reproach  \vaththe 
d(;spised  of  Israel.  Now  Paul  esteems  all  that  he  possessed,  even  learn- 
ing and  reputation,  as  dung  and  dross,  that  he  may  win  Christ ;  and 
Mary  sits,  satisfied,  at  the  feet  of  her  Master  and  Friend,  and  desires 
naught  beside.  "  Come,"  cries  the  woman  of  Samaria  in  the  streets  of 
Sychar,  "  come,  see  a  man  which  told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  did !" 

She  is  not  ashamed  by  these  words  to  remind  the  whole  world  of  hei 
past  sins.  Her  thought  is,  " The  Lord  is  here ;  who  shall  condemn?" 
She  might  have  foreseen  that  the  whole  world  would  scorn  and  deride 
her  as  an  enthusiast,  for  it  will  not  endure  to  hear  Christ  extolled  or 
spoken  of  with  love.  He  who  has  gained  a  prize  in  the  lottery,  or  suc- 
ceeded in  a  speculation,  may  rejoice  and  talk  of  it  as  much  and  as  long 
as  it  pleaseth  him— no  one  will  be  offended  ;  but  speak  of  Christ  and 
spiritual  enjoyments,  and  you  are  immediately  put  to  silence.  But  what 
cares  the  woman  of  Samaria  for  the  world  or  the  world's  judgment? 
She  feels  the  love  of  Christ  constraining  her,  and  she  hastens.  "  Come," 
she  cries ;  "  come !"  and  this  word,  proceeding  from  the  tenderest  broth- 
erly love,  proves  thy  faith,  O  woman,  is  not  vain,  but  life  and  truth. 
And  the  multitude  that  heard  the  woman  speak,  went  out  of  the  city 
and  came  to  Jesus,  and  many  believed  and  said  imto  the  woman  :  "  Now 
we  believe  ;  not  because  of  thy  saying,  for  we  have  heard  him  ourselves, 
and  know  that  this  is  indeed  the  Christ,  the  Saviour  of  the  Avorld." 
Thus  she  not  only  blessed  herself,  but  many  were  brought  through  her 
means  to  enjoy  the  same  blessing.  She  shone  as  a  light  amid  the  moral 
darkness,  and  was  as  salt  amid  the  world's  corruption. 

Behold  the  narrative  ;  may  it  be  blessed  to  our  souls,  and,  as  often  as  it 
is  repeated,  let  glory  and  praise  be  given.  Blessed  is  the  man  from 
whose  hands  are  removed  every  false  dependence  and  support;  that 
nothing  may  remain  to  him  than,  with  Jacob,  to  hang  on  the  neck 
of  hwi  who  alone  is  "  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life ;"  and  to  say,  "  I 
will  not  let  thee  go  except  thou  bless  me."  At  such  a  salvation  the 
world,  indeed,  may  sneer,  and  shake  the  head,  but  we  will  say,  "  Blessed 
folly — to  despair  on  the  strength  and  help  of  a  world,  and  to  expect  sal- 
vation fi-om  two  crucified  hands !  Estimable  superstition — to  abandon 
self,  and  to  see  our  sahation  and  glory  in  those  bleeding  wounds  !  Ex- 
cellent enthusiasm — to  hunger  and  thirst  only  after  the  passover  pre- 
pared at  Calvary !  Praiseworthy  mysticism — to  despair  of  every  thing 
that  is  in  heaven  or  on  earth,  and  to  hang  the  hope  of  a  blessed  eternity 
upon  the  sacrifice  of  a  slain  Lamb !"  Ai-e  we  Christians  ?  Then  is  Christ 
ours !  all  is  ours !  sin,  death,  Satan,  and  the  world,  lie  bound  and  con- 
quered at  our  feet,  and  though  the  combat  still  endures,  the  victory  is 
sure  ;  and,  in  anticipation,  we  now  wave  our  banner  joyfully,  and  shout 
cheerfully :    "  Behold,  the   eternal  hiUs  have  become  our  heritage !" 


DISCOURSE    VII. 

W.     HOFFMAN,     D.D. 

Another  distinguished  court  preacher  to  his  majesty,  the  King  of  Prussia,  is  the 
subject  of  this  sketch — Dr.  Hoffman.  He  was  born  on  the  30th  of  October,  1806, 
at  Leonburg,  kingdom  of  Wurtemburg,  south  of  Grermany. 

His  father  was  a  descendant  of  Protestant  martyrs  in  Silesia,  and  was  a  civil 
officer  at  Leonburg,  but  resigned  his  place  in  1819,  in  6rder  to  found,  in  opposition 
to  the  then  prevailing  neologism,  the  independent  congregation  and  community  of 
Kornstal,  near  Stuttgart,  one  of  the  central  points  of  the  faithful  people  of  Wurtem- 
burg, called  Pietists.  Tens  of  thousands  owed  their  salvation  to  Hoffman,  the 
father,  and  thousands  of  children  were  educated  in  the  different  institutions  founded 
by  him,  in  true  faith  and  knowladge  of  Christ. 

As  might  have  been  anticipated,  he  was  educated  as  a  member  of  the  Lutheran 
church  of  his  country.  He  was  prevented  by  his  father's  mighty  prayers  from  ever 
quite  falling  into  the  snares  of  neology.  His  conversion  to  true  hfe  in  Christ  was  a 
signal  work  of  grace  at  the  end  of  his  academical  career  at  Tubingen.  He  refers 
with  interest  to  a  deep  sense  of  the  truth,  a  dangerous  sickness  when  a  student  at 
Tubingen,  searching  in  the  Scriptures  for  theological  purposes,  and  the  writings  of 
Luther  and  Calvin,  to  which  he  was  led  by  Schleiermacher,  as  the  most  prominent 
means  in  leading  him  to  Christ. 

His  education  he  owes  to  Leonburg,  and  to  the  still-living  Professor  Klumpf,  at 
Stuttgart ;  then  to  the  seminary  (monastery)  of  Schoenthal,  and  to  the  theological 
"  Stipendium,"  as  it  is  called,  of  Tubingen,  where  his  professors  were,  among  others, 
the  late  Dr.  Steudel,  Dr.  Keen,  and  the  famous  Dr.  Baur,  head  of  the  negative 
critical  school,  to  whose  vicAvs  he  was  always  opposed. 

After  a  five  years'  course  in  the  Stipendium,  he  Avas  sent,  in  1829,  to  the  village  of 
Henmader,  as  curate  under  a  pious  old  parson ;  then  he  was  called  as  a  tutor  to  the 
so-called  "Stipendium,"  at  Tubingen;  afterward  as  general  curate  to  the  churches 
of  Stuttgart. 

In  1834,  he  was  installed  as  second  pastor  at  Winendcn,  with  the  pastoral  care  of 
the  Insane  Asylum  of  Winnenthal.  After  five  years,  he  accepted  a  call  to  the  In- 
spectorate (principalship)  of  the  missionary  institution  at  Basle,  where  he  lived  eleven 
years,  during  eight  of  which  he  was  at  the  same  time  Professor  of  Divinity  at  the  Basle 
University.  In  1850,  the  state  of  his  health  forced  him  to  resign  that  place,  when, 
decUning  a  call  to  the  University  of  Heidelberg,  and  to  the  Lutheran  Seminary  at 
Gettysburg,  Pa.,  he  went  back  to  Tubingen,  where,  as  principal  of  the  "  Stipend- 
ium," he  read  lectures  on  the  Old  and  New  Testaments.     In  1852,  he  accepted 


9-1  W.     HOFFMAN. 

-1  call  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  as  his  chaplain  at  the  cathedral.  He  is  now  also 
general  superintendent  of  tlie  Electorate,  member  of  the  Consistory,  and  Hjgh 
Ecclesiastical  Censor  to  the  State  Council,  etc.,  etc. 

Dr.  Hoffman  has  published  a  work  on  "  Baptism ;"  a  work  against  "  Strauss'  Life 
of  Jesus ;"  "  The  Basle  Missionary  Magazine,"  1840-51 ;  "  On  Hindoo  Female  Edu- 
catin;"  "Missionary  Lectures,"  3  vols.;  "Sermons,"  7  vols.;  and  many  smaller 
■R-orks  in  reviews  and  collections. 

It  was  upon  the  advice  of  Professor  Nitzsch,  that  Dr.  Hoffman  was  selected  as  one 
of  the  preachers  to  represent  the  G-erman  pulpit.  The  selection  of  the  sermon 
which  follows,  was  made  by  one  of  Dr.  Hoffman's  own  friends  in  Berlin,  who  is 
well  acquainted  with  his  discourses.  It  is  the  last  in  his  latest  volume  of  sermons, 
pubhshed  in  Berhn  in  the  year  1854,  and  was  preached  on  the  day  of  the  Reforma- 
tion festival,  in  that  year. 


THE    LAST    JUDGMENT. 

"  And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and 
the  heaven  fled  away ;  and  there  was  found  no  place  for  them. 

"  And  I  saw  the  dead,  small  and  great,  stand  before  God ;  and  the  books  were  opened  ; 
and  another  book  was  opened ;  which  is  fhe  hook  of  life  ;  and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of 
those  things  which  were  written  in  the  books,  according  to  their  works." — Rev.,  xx. 
11,  12. 

Beloved  in  the  Lord  :  Be  not  surprised  at  this  text  on  this  day.  It 
has  been  selected,  not  only  because  in  our  series  of  discourses  upon  the 
last  things  we  have  now  come  to  the  consideration  of  the  final  judg- 
ment, but  also  because  we  celebrate  to-day  the  anniversary  festival  of 
the  Reformation.  The  final  judgment  is  also  a  festival — the  greatest 
world-festival  alongside  that  other,  when  God  rested  from  his  works. 
As  the  latter  was  the  commencement  of  all  festive  life  in  the  creature  of 
God,  as  the  rest  of  God  from  creating,  and  in  his  creation  was  the  con- 
secration of  its  existence,  and  made  the  rest  of  the  creature  in  God  for 
the  first  time  possible,  so  for  the  world's  completion  is  the  last  day — the 
final  judgment — a  high,  glorious  world-festival,  revealing  the  justice  and 
truth,  the  grace  and  mercy  of  the  triune  God.  For  then,  for  the  first 
time,  when  all  God's  judgments,  in  the  course  of  human  history,  shall 
have  been  closed  up  and  received  their  final  seal,  shall  it  become  evident 
to  all  that  are  in  heaven  or  on  earth,  or  under  the  earth — evident 
l)eyond  the  possibility  of  cavil,  that  Jesus  Christ,  the  incarnate  Son  of 
God,  to  whom  the  Father  hath  committed  judgment,  is  the  Lord  at 
whose  name  every  knee  shall  bow.  This  great  festival  of  the  world, 
oxQn  as  the  first — the  rest  of  God  from  his  works — ^lias  reference  to  all  our 
festivals ;  ay,  it  is  these  divine  festivals  which  first  furnish  our  hiunan 
j^es  a  bnsis — they  are  the  fore  and  a^or  celebrations  of  ours.     For  all 


THE     LAST    JUDGMENT.  95 

jur  festivals  are  at  the  same  time  judgment-days — days  of  decision ;  and 
upon  them  it  is  made  manifest  who  belong  to  those,  who  subsist  upon 
the  goods  of  our  Father's  house — to  the  children  who  have  their  dearest 
treasure  there  ;  on  these  days  is  shown  what  yet  remains  in  us  unchild- 
like,  foreign  to  the  paternal  mansion. 

Especially  does  this  hold  good  of  the  festival  Avhich  we  celebrate  this 
<l:iy — the  festival  of  the  Reformation.  It  is  related  to  the  last  day  most 
intimately,  as  also  to  the  great  primal  festival  of  God's  rest.  To-day  we 
I'evert  to  the  sharply-defined  commencement  of  the  Reformation,  when, 
on  the  thirty-first  of  October,  1517,-Doctor  Martin  Luther  nailed  upon 
t!ie  door  of  Schloss'  churchy  In  Wittenberg,  his  ninety-five  Theses.  These 
ninety-five  Theses  contained  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  doctrine  of 
Scripture  respecting  human  works  in  their  relation  to  divine  free  grace — 
respecting  the  forgiveness  of  sins  for  the  sake  of  the  bloody  offering  and 
sufficient  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  merits  of 
men,  be  they  ever  so  pious,  or,  as  the  world  calls  them,  sainted.  They 
state  that  man  desei-ves  not  heaven,  but  that  it  is  solely  of  grace  when  a 
poor  sinful  creatui'e,  even  while  here  upon  earth,  is  permitted  to  enter 
into  the  rest  of  God,  and  to  become  assured  of  the  perfect  rest  of  the 
iaithful.  The  anniversary  of  the  Reformation  is  a  judgment-day,  and  it 
separates  those  in  the  evangelical  church  \s'ho  are  satisfied  with  their 
works  and  merit,  or  Avho  go  so  far  as  to  cherish  the  daring  thought  that 
God  must  be  satisfied  with  them,  from  those  who,  in  humility  and  pov- 
erty of  sj^irit,  confess  that  they  are  unprofitable  servants,  far  too  insignifi- 
cant to  become  objects  of  divine  mercy  and  faithfulness,  unworthy  in 
themselves  of  eternal  life,  but  who  can  boast,  "  by  grace  am  I  saved  !" 
On  this  day,  that  which  strives  within  us  after  self-righteousness  and  legal 
merit — that  which  grows  up  out  of  the  root  of  our  old  carnal  nature,  and 
v.'ould  fain  twine  round  us  again  and  overgi'ow  us,  all  struggle  after  salva- 
tion and  peace  in  our  own  strength  is  separated  from  that  which  lays 
itself  all  lowly  and  contrite  at  the  feet  of  the  Lamb.  I  do  not  hesitate, 
therefore,  to  select,  as  the  subject  for  our  consideration  to-day,  the  final 
judgment^  as  it  is  a  judg^nent  of  grace,  and  a  judgtnent  according  to 
tcorJcs. 

Lord,  thou  eternal  God  and  Saviour,  thou  wilt  come  again  to  judge 
the  quick  and  the  dead  !  Thou  who  hast  ascended  into  heaven,  thou 
who  hast  arisen  from  the  dead,  thou  who  hast  been  crucified,  dead,  and 
buried  for  our  sins  !  0  let  us,  by  thy  Holy  Spirit,  contemplate  thy  second 
coming  for  final  judgment,  with  holy  earnestness,  and  with  hearts  thirst- 
ing for  grace !     Amen, 

Grace  and  icorks  have  become  watchwords  in  all  Chrit^tendom.  ISTot 
merely  has  conscious,  culpable  error  elevated  the  standard  of  works,  but 
ignorance,  indistinctness,  uncertainty  in  the  ways  of  God,  ignorance  of 
the  holy  Scriptures,  have  also  collected  thousands  around  it ;  not  only 
does  one  whole  church  swarm  in  hoards  around  this  banner  of  works, 


96  W.    HOFFMAN. 

but  6ven  in  our  own  evangelical  church  has  the  pestiferous  doctrine  won, 
and,  to  this,  hour,  maintained  such  wide  ground,  that  we  have  no  occa- 
sion, on  this  festival  of  our  Reformation,  to  look  with  contemj^tuous  or 
hostile  eyes  upon  the  condition  of  those  without ;  much  rather  have 
we  greatest  cause  to  look  about  ourselves  narrowly — ay,  in  our- 
selves. 

Grace  and  works  :  with  us,  how  are  these  related  to  each  other  ?  That 
decides  our  final  destiny.  The  final  judgment  is  a  judgment  over  every 
individual  soul  which  shall  come  into  judgment — over  each  which  faith 
in  the  Son  of  God  has  not  already  passed  from  death  unto  life.  It  is, 
therefore,  a  solemn  and  earnest  task  which  we  propose  to-day,  to  repre- 
sent to  ourselves  the  final  judgment  of  grace.  For  it  is  written,  "  and 
the  books  were  opened,"  and  each  was  "judged  out  of  those  things 
which  were  written  in  the  books  according  to  their  works."  But  there 
was  yet  "  another  book"  opened,  and  that  is  the  "  book  of  Ufe ;"  and 
whosoever  was  not  found  written  in  that  book,  was  cast  into  the  lake  of 
fire. 

This  book  of  life,  beloved,  is  grace.  Here  the  question  is  not  about 
works ;  they  stand  written  in  the  other  books.  Here  the  question  is 
only  about  names  which  are  written  in  heaven.  Souls  shall  appear  be- 
fore the  judgment-seat,  which,  upon  earth,  perhaps,  unconsciously, 
cleaved  unto  the  Lord  in  heaven,  honestly  sought  him  here  below,  ^s'\\\\- 
out  really  becoming  acquainted  with  hira — souls  which,  to  their  astonish- 
ment, shall  see  themselves  known  of  him  in  their  inmost  life,  and  in  their 
almost  forgotten  deeds — ay,  acknowledged  as  the  blessed  of  the  Father. 
In  the  final  day  will  Jesus  become  clear  to  them  as  him  after  whom 
they  groped  in  dark  longingly.  He  shall  be  to  such  precisely  the  saine 
Saviour  as  for  his  own,  who  were  intelligently  and  freely  bound  to  him 
by  the  holy  baptism  and  the  blessed  Eucharist,  by  the  well-known  word 
of  the  old  and  the  new  covenant,  by  all  the  gracious  influences  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  These,  his  believers  on  earth,  are  not  the  ones  of  whom  it 
stands  written  that  their  name  is  found  written  in  the  book  of  life,  for  the 
first  time,  at  the  day  of  judgment.  These  are  already  at  home  with  the 
Lord,  and  so  many  as  remain  living  upon  earth  when  the  trumpet  of  the 
archangel  shall  sound,  shall  be  caught  up  in  the  air  and  transformed,  that 
they  may  be  with  him  forever.  But  the  others  are  the  dead,  who  were 
not  reanimated  in  the  first  resurrection,  but  who  first  come  forth  from 
their  graves  at  the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and  stand  before  his  fiice,  and 
for  these  is  there  yet  a  book  of  life,  and  for  these  he  sits  upon  the  throne, 
whom  in  Ufe  they  knew  not,  but  after  whom  they  groped  in  darkness, 
and  for  them  the  Lord  speaks  that  ineffably  precious  word  of  pitying 
love,  which  sounds  forth  to  us  from  his  own  description  of  that  final 
judgment,  "  what  ye  have  done  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye 
have  done  unto  me  !" 

That  is  grace  !   He  who  shall  sit  upon  the  judgment-seat,  is.  according 


THE     LAST    JUDCiMENT.  97 

to  the  prophecies  of  the  New  Testament  prophets,  the  same  who  uj^ou 
the  cross  bore  on  his  strong  soul  the  burden  and  blame,  death  and  iho 
condemnation  of  sin  through  to  complctest  victory.  He  is  the  one  who 
has  stood  the  wrath  of  God,  the  fury  of  holy  lighteousness,  even  to  the 
last  drop  of  tlie  bitter  cup,  the  victor  over  death,  hell,  and  the  devil. 
Tlic  very  person  of  the  judge  announces  that  it  is  tlie  judgment  of  grace 
which  makes  blessed  those  who  stand  at  the  right  hand — Christ,  the 
liod-man — he,  of  whom  the  two  men  in  white  raiment  said,  "In  like 
n^ianner  as  ye  have  seen  him  ascend  into  heaven,  so  shall  he  come  again 
to  judge" — the  God-man  is  he  who  sliall  sit  upon  the  great  white  throne 
— it  is  his  countenance — the  "  king  immortal" — before  which  the  heavens 
and  earth  shall  flee  away,  and  no  more  place  be  found  for  them.  Grace 
shall  be  announced  to  those  who,  though  imconsciously,  and  in  darkness, 
have  stretched  forth  the  arm  of  longing  toward  him — free  grace,  in  tlie 
fearful  moment,  when  all  bridges  shall  be  torn  uj)  behind  the  yet  unres- 
cued  of  humanity,  leaving  no  path  open  but  to  the  bar  of  judgment. 
There  they  pass  to  the  right  hand,  for  he  places  them  there.  But  how 
comes  it  ?  Do  they  understand  why  they  are  placed  on  the  right  ?  Have 
they  yet  the  remotest  presentiment  of  their  rescue  ?  Ah,  no  !  But  it  is 
the  wonderful  mysteiious  drawing  of  the  communion,  which  even  on 
earth  ne.ver  rested  in  their  blindly  longing  hearts  ;  this  it  is  which  places 
1  hem  irresistibly  upon  the  side  where  the  Lord  will  have  them ;  they 
place  themselves  upon  the  right. 

I  have  previously  preached  upon  the  resurrection  of  the  righteous — 
of  the  resurrection  of  tlie  wicked,  in  that  place,  is  nothing  said.  The 
judgment-day  is  also  the  last  day  of  resurrection,  and  then  shall  some 
come  forth  unto  life,  some  unto  everlasting  shame  and  contempt.  The 
resurrection  body  of  those  whom  Jesus  calls  "  the  blessed,"  will  imde- 
niably  announce  of  itself  where  they  belong.  The  resurrection  of  the 
wicked  is  an  act  of  judgment,  and  belongs  to  the  judgment,  and  all  who 
have  not  fdlen  asleep  in  Jesus  need  not  earlier,  nor  otherwise  rise  than 
on  the  judgment-day.  Then  rise  also  with  them,  those  who  have  lived 
already  in  a  still,  hidden,  unconscious  intercourse  with  him,  the  omni- 
present Saviour,  and  whose  bodies,  therefore,  arfe  not  forms  of  darkness, 
but  of  dawning  light.  Their  position  at  the  right  is  itself  an  object  of 
humble  astonishment  for  these  pious  souls.  But  now  the  books  are 
opened — the  book  of  life  is  unrolled — and  lo !  their  names  stand  written 
therein  ;  butliot  their  sins,  for  these  are  forgiven  and  blotted  out  through 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb  ! 

This  it  is,  my  beloved,  which  we  must  bring  forth  into  prominence 
to-day,  on  the  festival  of  the  Reformation ;  the  grace  of  God  in  Jesus 
Christ.  The  saving  grace  of  God  hath  appeared  unto  all  men,  and  to  all 
Mho  do  not  reject  it,  it  comes  near  either  in  this  world  or  the  next.  But 
all  Avho  do  not  seize  upon  the  grace  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  do  not  ex- 
jinrience  it ;  they  do  not  know  what  grace  is !     All  who  stand  at  the  last 

7 


98  W.    HOFFMAN. 

da}'  upon  the  left,  are  rejecters  of  grace — are  out  of  Christ — have  cut,  with 
their  own  w^anton  hand,  all  the  cords  of  love  by  which  the  Lord  wished  to 
draw  them  in  their  earthly  life  ;  have  wished  to  help  themselves,  or  have 
desired  no  help  at  all.  The  pardoned,  however,  know  right  well  that 
their  life,  their  rescue,  their  salvation,  depends  solely  upon  the  word  of 
him  who  sitteth  upon  the  throne — they  know  it  with  appropriate  timid- 
ity, for  they  feel  their  poverty  and  sin.  But  they  behold  shining  in  his 
countenance  that  eternal  light,  of  which  a  stray  beam  has  fallen  into 
their  hearts,  and,  therefore,  they  have  an  exultant  hope  in  their  souls, 
even  before  the  judge  hath  opened  his  mouth.  And  now  as  he  sj^eaks, 
his  first  word  is  itself  a  proof  that  their  names  are  w^ritten  in  the  book  of 
life  ;  for  he  acknowledges  all  the  good  which  they  have  done,  but  makes 
•no  mention  of  their  sins.  The  holy  judge,  who  knows  so  well  every 
form  and  kind  of  sin,  has  not  a  word  to  say  of  their  sins;  but  ad- 
olresses  them  as  the  blessed  of  his  Father — the  heirs  of  the  kingdom  pre- 
pared for  them  from  the  begimjing.  That  melts  their  hearts.  That  is 
inconceiA'able  love  toward  poor  sinners,  who  had  never  consciously  be- 
longed to  Jesus  on  earth  !  In  this  glow  of  heavenly  love,  the  last  hard- 
ness of  heart  disappears ;  they  softened,  and,  like  all  those  who  have 
already  been  in  the  dust,  repented  and  found  their  peace  in  the  blood 
which  was  shed  upon  Calvary. 

False  and  worthless,  therefore,  is  the  statement  that  the  Lord  declared, 
in  his  description  of  the  judgment,  "  Man  shall  be  saved  by  his  works." 
Nay,  all  those  who  are  saved  in  the  judgment  know  nothing  of  their 
works,  and  when  he  says,  "Whatsoever  ye  have  done  unto  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  ye  have  done  unto  me,"  and  when  he  calls  them  the 
blessed  of  his  Father,  they  have  no  answer  to  give  ;  but  their  hearts  sink 
in  wonder  at  such  mercy  and  glory,  prepared  for  the  most  unworthy  ! 

Thus,  my  beloved  in  the  Lord,  do  we  hear  the  annunciation  of  the 
Reformation  sound  forth  to  us  from  the  throne  of  the  world's  judgment  I 
This  is  the  banner  which  our  Luther  unfurled,  and  around  it  we  band 
ourselves  together  against  every  foe  within  or  without !  It  is  grace — free 
grau^  for  Chri  "a  sake — imparted  and  announced  by  the  Son  of  God, 
even  then  at  the  last  day — it  is  free  grace  that  saves  !  On  the  other  shore, 
among  the  innumerable  hosts  who  sing  the  song  of  their  redemption,  not 
one  can  be  found  who  knew  of  works,  who  built  his  own  ladder  to 
heaven;  there  they  speak  of  but  one  Deliverer, 

One  gentle  Lamb,  our  triumphs  gain, 
And  TnoTJ,  0  Lamb,  the  slain  I 

Therefore,  beloved,  rejoice  if  your  names  are  written  in  heaven — your 
guilt  blotted  out ;  rejoice  and  exult,  every  soul  of  you  which  is  able  to 
appi'opriate  that  merit  of  your  Saviour's  here  on  earth ! 

But  since  the  word  of  Cod  demands  it,  you  must  venture  to  come 
with  me  to  the  contemplation  of  that  picture  of  horrors — tlie  judg- 


THE    LAST     JUDGMENT.  99 

ment  according  to  icorks.  I  return  to  the  judgment-resurrection. 
"Some," 'says  the  prophet  Daniel,  "shall  come  forth  unto  everlasting 
shame  and  contempt."  But  not  he  alone  ;  in  fact,  the  sages  of  the 
heathen  had  presentiments  thereof,  when  they  taught  that  in  the  other 
world  those  who  here  on  earth  had  been  godless  and  wanton,  blasphem- 
ers and  violators  of  holy  ordinances,  would  appear  in  horrible  forms,  as 
wolves  and  other  ravenous  beasts.  In  this  doctrine  lies  a  foreboding 
of  what  the  godless  man  makes  out  himself  We,  however,  go  iipon 
the  ground  of  Scripture  further.  The  worldling  in  his  carnal  passage 
through  the  earthly  life,  perverts  and  defaces  the  original  divine  image. 
Think  what  frightful  forms  and  shapes  must  be  the  final  expression  of 
the  hatefulness  of  a  soul  at  enmity  with  God  !  The  perversion  of  GocVs 
image  can  only  produce  the  most  opposite,  the  most  frightful,  because 
in  itself  it  is  so  glorious  and  noble.  And  now  think  of  the  resurrection 
of  those  who  have  Christ  07ily  for  an  inexorable  judge,  because,  as  a 
mediating  Saviour,  they  rejected  him !  Is  it  a  wonder  that  they  cry, 
"  Mountains,  fill  on  us ;  ye  hills  cover  us  fi-om  the  face  of  him  that 
sitteth  upon  the  throne  ?" 

They  are  raised  bodily,  and  their  bodies  are  the  visible  copies  of  their 
soiils.  Every  defacement,  every  perversion,  every  distortion,  every  thing 
awful,  shocking,  and  loathsome,  whatever  the  inner  life  of  a  godless  and 
Christless  man  can  become,  will  stand  there  fully,  visibly  manifest  in  the 
eyes  of  all  the  world.  They  shall  appear  m  the  shame  of  their  wicked- 
ness, for  the  wholly  hidden  and  secreted  sinfulness  shall  be  turned  out- 
ward :  they  shall  appear  even  as  they  are.  The  irresistible  power  of 
their  guilt  shall  of  itself  hurl  them  to  the  left  hand ;  there  must  they  go, 
and  every  capricious  will  to  place  themselves  at  the  right,  were  as  a 
powerless  straw  agamst  the  gusts  of  a  storm ;  for  it  is  the  power  of 
the  inner  judgment,  which  drives  to  the  side  of  those  whose  sentence 
is,  "  Depart  from  me  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire." 

"  The  books  shall  be  opened  and  they  shall  be  judged  according  to 
their  works."  Here  stand  their  works  distinctly  written ;  yea,  every 
word ;  for  "  by  thy  words  shalt  thou  be  justified ;"  and  "  by  thy  words 
shalt  thou  be  condemned ;"  and  "  thou  shalt  give  an  account  for  every 
idle  word  which  cometh  out  of  thy  mouth" — and  even  the  thoughts  of 
their  hearts,  the  almost  unconscious  movements  of  their  inmost  soul. 
The  picture  of  their  life,  with  its  finest  and  most  delicate  shades,  shall 
stand  incontestably  clear  and  sharp  before  them — their  hostile,  God- 
resisting,  Christ-hating  life, — and  each  will  already  be  judged  by  a  glance 
at  this  picture.  The  glance  from  this  picture  to  the  countenance  of 
Christ,  as  illumined  with  grace  and  mercy,  will  only  reveal  to  each,  thun- 
der-clouds and  consuming  flames.  He,  however,  the  holy  judge,  will 
give  to  each  precisely  according  to  his  works. 

I  might  almost  say,  to  each  is  already  given  according  to  his  works 
when  they  appear,  and  each  exhibits  outwardly  what  he  is  inwardly. 


100  W.    HOFFMAN. 

His  sad  fate  is  already  pronounced  before  the  eyes  of  the  world  !  But  no. 
Still  Ihigers  in  the  soul  of  the  unjudged  man  the  impression  of  the  duine 
likeness.  The  untried  servant  still  has  the  talent  in  his  hands  which 
was  intrusted  to  him.  Still  are  there  gifts,  talents,  powers,  even  in  the 
ghastly  distortion  remaining — his  endowments  as  born  into  this  world. 
Good  things  are  still  to  be  found  in  him — not  his  own  work,  but  gifts  to 
him — acquired  from  education,  from  society,  from  the  church,  from  the 
state,  from  science  and  art,  certain  purer  and  noble  features.  The  judg- 
ment, however,  that  great  divorcement,  not  only  separates  those  who  are 
good  from  those  who  are  evil,  but  also,  inwardly,  the  good  from  the  evil. 
The  talent  shall  be  taken  from  the  slothful  servant  who  hid  it  in  a  nap- 
kin. Every  natural  good  shall  be  taken  away  from  those  upon  the  left ; 
the  little  flame  which  at  least  occasionally  illumined  their  benighted 
souls,  shall  be  extinguished  ;  nothing  sliall  remain  but  the  piercing  light 
of  the  thought,  "There  is  a  God,  an  eternal  God,  and  thou  art  his  crea- 
ture." All  that,  which  men  here  on  earth  so  eulogize — good-nature, 
tender-heartedness,  kindliness  of  disposition,  sentiments  of  honor — all 
these  shall  be  taken  away  from  them ;  all  knowledge  of  the  truth,  all 
acquaintance  therewith — and  the  man  be  slung  back  into  what  he  has 
made  himself.  He  is  purely  his  own  work ;  and  as  such,  is  intrenched 
in  his  pitiful  poverty,  emptiness,  blindness  and  pervertedness,  for  all  eter- 
nity ! 

This,  poor,  poor  soul,  who  rejectest  and  spurnest  Christ,  this  shalt  thou 
be — a  pure  self-perversion,  self  distortion  ;  and  then  shalt  thou  hear  that 
word  "  ye  cursed !"  with  whose  pronunciation  every  blessing  of  God  shall 
be  for  thee  abrogated — the  blessings  of  grace  and  that  primeval  blessing 
which  he  sent  forth  of  old  upon  his  yet  unfallen  creation.  This  is  the 
curse,  the  only  unmitigated  curse ;  for  all  the  divine  judgments  upon  the 
sins  of  men  were,  until  the  day  of  judgment,  still  attended  with  bless- 
ing. Then  at  last,  curse  without  blessing,  the  banishment  of  the  soul  in 
her  own  black  and  awful  shape — that  is  Jiidgme?it  according  to  loorJcs. 
For  not  only  the  single  deed  stands  written  there  in  the  books — not 
merely  the  total  of  his  evil  deeds,  but  the  whole  molding  of  his  life  ;  the 
whole  action  and  passion,  the  whole  development  of  the  inan  out  of  his 
own  sinful  and  perverted  self;  each  bears  "  his  own  burden,"  and  none 
will  be  able  to  doubt  that  his  lamentable  condition  and  everlasting 
destruction  is  purely  his  own  work,  held  fast  by  him  with  all  his  might 
against  the  striving  grace  of  God  in  Christ ! 

And  that  is  the  sermon  for  the  festival  of  the  Reformation.  For  as 
our  loved  Reformers  brought  forth  the  Bible  from  the  rubbish  under 
which  it  was  hidden,  brought  it  into  our  churches,  and  schools,  and 
houses — ah !  God  grant  into  our  hearts  also — as  this  word  repeats  a 
thousand  times,  that  man  is  not  justified  by  his  own  merit,  but  through 
grace ;  through  the  offering  of  Jesus  Christ  made  upon  the  cross  and 
completed  in  eternity,  is  counted  righteous;  that  justification  by  feith  is 


THE    LAST    JUDGMENT.  101 

the  only  way  in  which  man  can  be  saved,  even  if  it  first  appear  on  the 
last  clay ;  so  the  same  word  also  teaches  us,  and  out  of  it  the  whole 
evangelical  church  also,  that  each  shall  answer  for  his  own  works,  that 
each  must  bear  his  own  burden,  that  no  one  can  lighten  the  oppressive 
load  a  single  ounce ;  that  no  mother  of  Christ,  no  saint,  no  merit,  nor 
superogatory  merit  of  even  the  truest  of  God's  servants,  who  them- 
selves would  have  shuddered  at  the  thought,  can  rescue  a  soul  from  the 
terrors  of  the  judgment.  These  are  tatters  of  well-meant  deception  laid 
upon  the  wounds  of  souls.  These  treasures  of  the  church  are  fictitious; 
no  one  helps ;  thou  shalt  bear  thy  own  burden.  There  is  but  one  rescue. 
If  the  registry  of  thy  guilt  is  blotted  out  with  the  blood  of  the  Lamb, 
then  are  thy  works  also  stricken  out,  and  only  thy  name  wUl  be  found 
inscribed  in  the  book  of  life — the  name  which  the  Lord,  in  his  iueifable 
love,  shall  there  give  thee  ! 

Does  the  Reformation  then  ignore  works?  Have  they  for  her  no 
worth  at  all  ? 

O  yes !  the  Reformation  hath  somewhat  to  say  of  works ;  for  she 
preaches  a  living  faith.  Works,  true  works  of  love,  self-sacrificing  deeds 
of  charity  to  the  least  of  the  brethren,  done  out  of  love  to  Jesus — these 
are  the  works  by  which  true  faith  is  known.  So  teaches  the  evan- 
gelical church  in  accordance  with  the  words  of  the  apostles.  She  teaches 
that  that  faith  which  is  merely  a  persuasion  of  the  mind,  a  mere  intel- 
lectual notion,  is  a  dead  faith — in  fact  no  faith  at  all.  She  teaches  in- 
deed that  the  works  judge  the  man,  but  also  that,  in  Christ's  own  words, 
all  evil  works  proceed,  from  unbelief  Works  of  unbelief  comprise  every 
evil  work,  and  it  is  unbelief  which  condemns,  just  as  it  is  faith  which 
seizes  uj^on  the  saving  grace. 

And  now,  beloved,  let  us  take  one  comj^rehensive  gmnce,  and  turn 
our  souls  to  the  Lamb  of  God.  We  see  here  upon  his  altar  the  appointed 
emblems  of  his  body  and  blood — ay,  himself,  who  really  administers 
himself  to  believing  communicants  unto  eternal  life,  but  who  will  give 
himself  to  the  unbelieving  unto  judgment.  We  have  to-day  a  summons 
to  works  of  love — a  double  summons — a  summons '  for  to-day,  and  an- 
other for  the  coming  Sunday — to  works  of  love  which  should  be  done 
luito  our  brethren  with  j^rayer  and  from  faith — to  works  for  the  rescue 
of  souls  and  to  works  for  rescue  from  bodily  wants.* 

]\Eay  the  consideration  of  the  final  judgment  incline  us  to  a  new  seizure 
upon  our  Lord,  and  sturdy  growth  with  him  by  means  of  his  holy  sacra- 
ment. May  the  summons  which  reach  us  from  far  and.  from  near  in- 
spirit and  charm  us  to  works  of  love  and  selt-sacrifice.  But  the  spirit 
of  beheving  prayer  comes  only  from  God.  For  holy  works  are  only 
those  which  the  Saviour  himself  works  in  us  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  Avhcn  we 
stand  back,  and  only  consent  thereto. 

*  These  remarks  referred  to  a  couple  of  colleetf  0.-3  taken  for  the  relief  of  certain  coun- 
trymen and  Christian  brethren  in  America, — [Ta 


102  '^-    HOFFMAN. 

Glance  forward  once  more  unto  the  end.  God  grant  that  no  one  of 
us  come  before  that  judgment-seat,  but  that  we  all  press  through  unto 
life  while  here  on  earth,  and  happily  enter  into  the  joy  of  our  Lord  among 
the  thousands  of  saints  who  with  him  shall  hold  the  judgment !  But 
look  well  to  it ;  it  is  possible  that  one  or  another  among  us  may  be 
snatched  away  into  eternity  before  he  has  made  his  calling  and  election 
sure  in  Jesus  Christ.  O  I  pray  you,  to-day !  now  !  let  not  an  hour,  let 
not  a  minute,  pass,  until,  in  faith — be  it  ever  so  weak — you  have  seized 
upon  the  Lord,  who  offers  you  his  infinite  grace  with  the  forgiveness  of 
sins,  that  you  may  triumph  over  death,  the  grave,  and  the  judgment — 
that  your  resurrection  may  be  a  resurrection  of  life — your  name  stand 
written  in  the  Book  of  Life — that  you  may  receive  the  new  name  which 
he  has  promised  unto  those  who  now  come  in  Jesus  Christ !  That  is- 
may  that  be  om*  reformation  I     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    VIII. 

EMXL    W.    KRUMMACHER,    D.D. 

Tms  divine,  though  little  known  in  America,  holds  a  high  place  in  Germany,  and 
is  acting  an  influential  part  in  ecclesiastical  affairs.  He  is  a  younger  brother  of  the 
celebrated  court  preacher,  toward  whom  he  bears,  in  some  respects,  a  striking 
resemblance.  For  a  number  of  years  he  was  stationed  at  Longeburg ;  but  has  now 
been  for  some  time  the  acceptable  and  useful  pastor  of  the  Grerman  Refol-med  Church 
at  Duisburg,  on  the  Rhine.  He  writes  with  a  vigorous  pen,  and  frequently  takes 
part  in  the  prevailing  theological  discussions  through  the  press,  and  is  the  author  of  sev- 
eral works.  In  the  matter  of  eloquence,  he  is  not  equal  to  his  elder  brother,  Fred- 
eric William  (as,  indeed,  very  few  are),  but  he  is,  nevertheless,  a  man  of  decided 
ability  and  far  more  than  ordinary  pulpit  power.  There  are  passages  in  the  following 
sermon  which  would  be  creditable  to  the  chaplain  at  the  Prussian  court.  Indeed, 
one  may  almost  imagine  while  reading  it,  that  he  is  delightfully  following  some 
pathetic  and  glowing  chapter  in  "  The  Suffering  Saviour."  Its  perusal  can  not  but 
a-waken  a  desire  for  a  further  acquaintance  with  the  productions  of  this  gifted 
mind. 


THE  ABANDON^MENT  OF   CIIRIST  OX  THE  CROSS. 

"  Now  from  the  sixth  hour  there  was  darkness  over  all  the  land,  unto  the  ninth  hour. 
And  about  the  ninth  hour,  Jesus  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  Eli,  Eli,  lama  sabacthani  ? 
that  is  to  say,  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me?" — Matthew,  xxvii.  45,  46. 

Several  times  already  had  the  great  High  Priest  opened  his  n:iouth 
upon  the  cross.  First  had  he  turned  the  eye  of  his  mercy  upon  those 
cruel  mockers  and  tormenters,  who,  in  that  hour  of  agony,  encompassed 
him  as  ravening  and  roaring  lions,  and  asked  for  them  mercy  and  for- 
giveness :  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do."  O  ! 
what  a  glimpse  do  these  words  give  us  into  the  inconceivable  love  which 
glowed  in  his  heart !  The  next  word  he  addressed  to  tliat  dying  penitent 
on  his  right  hand,  and  it  was  a  word  of  sweetest  promise  ;  a  word  of 
unutterable  consolation  :  "  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  paradise." 
And  then  he  turned  to  his  mother  and  to  the  disciple  whom  he  loved, 
vho  lay  in  his  bosom  at  the  last  supper,  and  bound  thcP-i  both  in  tha 


104  EMIL    W.    KRUMMACHER. 

bonds  of  filial  and  maternal  love.  And  now  was  it  the  sixth  hour.  It 
Avas  raid-day,  but  behold  !  "  there  was  darkness  over  all  the  land  unto  the 
ninth  hour."  For  three  whole  hou.rs  the  anointed  hung  upon  the  cros:i 
in  unbroken  silence ;  wrapped  in  darkness,  without  one  single  ray  of 
light  and  peace.  The  bleeding  Creator  of  the  sun  itself  sees  no  hght ; 
tlie  helper  of  all  must  weep  without  help  ;  but  his  cry  of  anguish  ai-rests 
the  course  of  nature  !  Surely  here  is  a  deep,  an  unfathomable  mystery. 

Yes,  these  terrors  of  Christ  loudly  declare  that  here  is  holy  ground. 
Only  in  deepest  adoration,  only  in  the  abasement  of  self-condemnation, 
can  we  venture  to  approach  and  gaze.  Praying  and  tremblmg,  we  enter 
this  holy  of  holies ;  in  deepest  reverence,  sujjplicating  for  grace,  we  con- 
tem2:)late, 

I.  In  the  first  place  ;  The  forsaken  One  himself 

II.  In  the  second  place;  The  end  of  his  being  thus  forsaken. 

III.  And  finally  ;  The  fruit  of  this  abandonment. 

I.  Who  is  this  forsaken  One?  Behold  him,  as  he  hangs  upon  the 
ignominious  tree  !  Blood  is  flowing  from  his  Avounds — from  his  opened 
veins.  The  crjmson  stream  flows  down  from  his  head,  his  hands,  his  feet, 
his  sides.  His  flice  is  marred  more  than  any  man's,  and  there  is  none  to 
comfort,  none  to  pity.  A  great  multitude  stand  around  the  cross ;  among 
them  are  found  the  respected,  the  learned,  the  noble  :  3hief  jiriests, 
scribes,  and  elders ;  but  their  lips  are  like  the  lips  of  the  rabble,  full  of 
bitter  mockery  and  scorn — full  of  malice  and  blasphemy.  Their  cruel 
hands,  indeed,  can  no  longer  reach  the  man  of  sorrows  ;  but  the  tongue 
knows  well  how  to  twist  the  knotted  scourge,  to  send  forth  the  spear  and 
the  sharp  arrow.  One  poisoned  cup  of  mockery  afler  another  is  pre- 
sented. Unceasing  are  the  torments  of  his  body — inconceivable  the 
agonies  of  his  soul.  Forsaken  by  the  whole  world — this  he  might  have 
borne.  Deserted  by  the  little  band  that  had  "  continued  with  him  in  his 
temptation" — ^this  was  hard  to  bear.  Alas !  what  pain  even  to  us,  faithless 
sinners,  as  Ave  are,  Avhen,  in  the  day  of  need,  and  of  adversity,  the  friends 
Avhom  we  had  fondly  deemed  true,  turn  from  us  coldly  and  faithlessly ! 
And  yet  even  this  sorrow  might  be  endured.  But  AA'hat  is  told  us  here  ? 
God  himself,  that  God  Avho  is  love,  Avho  said,  "Thou  art  my  beloved  Son,' 
in  Avhom  I  am  well  pleased  ;"  that  God  who  has  promised  to  those  that 
keep  his  covenant,  that  he  AAdll  never  leave  them  nor  forsake  them;  the 
God  of  all  grace  and  mercy,  forsakes  his  Son !  His  Son  ?  His  only  Son  ? 
Him  whom  he  loves  ?  Is  it  possible  ?'  Should  not  Ave  rather  say,  that 
this  bleeding  one,  hanging  upon  the  accursed  tree,  and  crying  amid  the 
darkness,  "  My  God,  my  God,  Avhy  hast  thou  forsaken  me,"  must  be  the 
vilest  Avretch  that  ever  ti-od  this  earth?  Is  this  the  last  end  of  the  right- 
eous ?  Is  this  the  reward  of  innocence  and  spotless  purity  ?  Is  this 
dealing  justly  to  suffer  the  holy  One  to  die  as  a  felon?     The  martyrs 


THE    ABAXDONilENT    OF    CHRIST    ON    THE    CROSS.       105 

counted  not  tlieir  lives  to  he  dear  unto  tliem;  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  they 
joyfully  exposed  themselves  to  the  most  dreadful  tortures,  and  were  led 
to  thii  stake  Mid  the  pile  of  burning,  rejoicing  that  they  were  thought 
worthy  to  suffer  for  his  name ;  and,  meek  as  the  lamb  before  its  slayer, 
they  poured  out  their  life-blood  under  the  knife  of  their  enemies.  But 
they  were  not  forsaken  of  God.  We  hear  them  praising  him  amid  the 
flames.  The  Father-heart  of  God  is  open  to  them  ;  the  everlastii)g  arm' 
of  the  great  Deliverer  is  beneath  thera  ;  the  Son  of  God  Avalks  with  them, 
even  as  of  old  with  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abedncgo,  in  the  fiery  fur- 
nace ;  and  though  "  their  heart  and  their  flesh  failed  them,  yet  God  was 
the  strength  of  their  heart  and  their  portion  forever."  But  here  all 
sources  of  comfort  are  dried  up  ;  here  Satan,  the  power  of  darkness, 
seemed  to  have  free  course,  and  the  life  of  this  forsaken  One  is  as  the 
life  of  those  that  go  down  into  the  pit  of  inconceivable  torment.  Is  this 
the  fruit  of  his  transgressions  ?  The  due  reward  of  his  misdeeds  ?  Is 
the  accusation  brought  against  him  just  ?  Was  he  indeed  a  blasphemer? 
AVas  he  guilty  of  death  ?    Was  the  rod  justly  broken  upon  him  ? 

But  no  !  this  be  far  from  him.  "  He  knew  no  sin,  neither  w'as  guile 
found  in  his  mouth.  He  "  was  holy,  harmless,  tmdefiled,  separate  from 
sinners."  He  glorified  his  Father ;  he  was  always  about  his  Father's 
business ;  it  was  his  meat  and  drink  to  do  the  will  of  his  Father ;  he  was 
in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  him.  His  whole  life  was  a  life  of  holi- 
ness ;  never  had  he,  even  in  thought,  transgressed  the  law  of  God  ;  "  he 
Avas  obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross."  Zeal  for  the 
house  of  the  Lord  consumed  him  ;  he  went  about  doing  good  ;  to  save, 
to  help,  to  bless,  was  the  element  of  his  whole  earthly  life.  Perfect  Avas 
he,  and  perfect  he  remained,  even  as  his  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect. 

Such  Avas  he  ;  and  yet  he  exclaims  in  unutterable  anguish  :  "  My  God, 
my  God,  Avhy  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?"  O,  then,  wonder  not  if  I  shrink  in 
trembling  awe  from  this  abandomnent  by  the  Father !  Blame  me  not  if  I 
own  that  here  is  an  event  Avhich  seems  to  involve  in  impenetrable  obscu- 
lity  all  the  attributes  and  all  the  dealings  of  God.  Can  the  God  of  love 
thus  forsake  the  Son  of  his  love  ?  Can  almighty  Justice  thus  deal  Avith 
innocence  ?  Does  the  omnipresent  thus  depart  from  him  Avho  is  f  lithful 
even  unto  death  ?  Is  it  thus  that  the  covenant-keeping  God  fulfills  his 
OAAm  promise  :  "  I  will  never  leave  thee  nor  forsake  thee.  When  thou 
passcst  through  the  waters  I  Avill  be  Avith  thee,  and  through  the  rivers, 
they  shall  not  overflow  thee  ;  Avhen  thou  walkest  through  the  fire  thou 
shalt  not  be  burned,  neither  shall  the  flames  kindle  upon  thee  ?"  Is  this 
his  faithfulness,  that  he  yields  up  the  faithful  in  all  things,  yea,  the  only 
faithful,  a  prey  to  the  most  fearful  pains  of  the  most  i)ainful  death,  and 
A\  holly  Avithdraws  from  him  his  presence,  his  consolation,  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  love  and  his  ftivor?  Is  not  godliness  itself  a  mere  dream, 
Avhcn  the  holy  One  is  thus  forsaken  ?  Is  not  all  trust  in  the  covenant- 
keeping  faithfulness  of  Jehovah  a  mere  delusion,  Avhen  God  AvithdraAVS 


106  EMIL    W.    KRUMMACHER. 

from  his  Son  his  love  and  his  grace  ?  Is  not  the  question,  "  My  God, 
my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?"  a  question  which,  from  everlast- 
mg  to  everlasting,  must  remain  an  unsolved  mystery  ? 

II.  No,  my  beloved ;  through  the  mercy  of  God  we  have  had  this 
mystery  revealed  to  us.  In  the  painful  judgment  of  self-condemnation, 
the  wondrous  enigma  is  solved.  When  once  the  blind  eye  of  our  spirit  is 
opened,  we  discern,  in  the  Ught  of  grace,  the  lofty  end  of  the  abandon- 
ment of  the  Son  of  God. 

Wherefore,  then,  was  the  innocent  Lamb  of  God  thus  utterly  forsaken 
of  God  ?  Wherefore  did  his  heavenly  Father  hide  his  face  from  him  '? 
Wherefore  must  the  almighty  Jesus  be  so  weak,  the  visage  of  the  spot- 
less One  so  marred,  the  Helper  so  helpless  ?  Because  he,  as  all  the 
prophets  of  the  old  covenant  and  all  the  apostles  of  the  new  testily,  Avas 
delivered  up  for  our  transgression ;  because  he,  constrained  by  the  compas- 
sion of  his  loving  heart,  suffered  in  our  stead,  and  bore  the  punishment 
our  sins  deserved  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree.  And  who  are  we  ?  Are 
we  not  all  universally  rebellious  children — "  children  that  are  corrupted" 
— that  have  forsaken  the  Lord,  the  God  and  Creator  of  their  lives,  the 
supreme  good — the  only  good  ?  O  yes !  when  sin  allures,  when  gold  and 
gain  are  to  be  won,  when  fleshly  lusts  are  to  be  gratified,  and  earthly 
honors  to  be  obtained,  then  do  we  eagerly  go  forward  ;  then  is  there  no 
road  too  long,  no  way  too  toilsome,  no  sacrifice  too  painful ;  but  we  inquire 
not  after  God  :  he  is  not  in  all  our  thouglits.  Thus  we  go  on  in  our  natu- 
ral state — God-denying,  God-forgetting  men — following  the  dictates  of  a 
depraved  -ndll,  following  the  counsel  of  a  darkened  understanding,  speak- 
ing our  own  sinful  words,  and  working  our  own  works  of  darkness  ;  and 
we  think  not  that  the  holy  presence  of  God  is,  as  the  air,  around  us  and 
about  us ;  and  we  glorify  not  the  God  "  in  whose  hand  our  breath  is, 
and  whose  are  all  our  ways."  Far  from  our  Father's  house,  cut  off  from 
communion  Tvith  him,  excluded  from  his  grace,  we  are  stiU  at  ease,  and 
ti'emble  not  even  for  an  instant  before  his  awfal  majesty.  Our  idols, 
"  the  lust  of  the  eye,  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  pride  of  hfe,"  are  suflicient 
for  us ;  we  feel  no  need  of  reconciliation  with  God — of  reunion  with  Goil. 
Alas  !  there  is  not  one  among  us  all  who  has  not,  hke  the  prodigal  son, 
forsaken  his  God.  Every  sin  which  we  commit,  is  an  abandonment  of 
God ;  and  as  oft  as  we  have  thought,  or  spoken,  or  acted,  without  ref- 
erence to  him,  and  fellowship  with  him,  so  oft  have  we  forsaken  him. 
And  even  those  among  us  who,  through  the  grace  of  God,  have  been 
born  again,  created  anew  in  Jesus  Christ,  even  they  must  acknowledge, 
in  deep  self  abasement,  tliat  ever  since  their  conversion,  they  also  have, 
daily  and  hourly,  shamefully  forsaken  the  Lord  their  God.  And  this 
desertion  is  a  transgression  that  reaches  unto  the  heavens — a  sin  of  deep- 
est dye,  that  calls  for  vengeance — an  ingratitude  so  vile,  that  by  it  alone 
we  have  a  thousand  times  deserved  inexorable  and  everlastino-  banish 


THE    ABANDONMENT    OF    CH-IIST    ON    THE    CKOSS.       107 

ment  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord.  Is  not  this  forsaking  of  our  God 
the  fruitful  parent  of  all  our  countless  transgressions? 

When,  therefore,  the  Son  of  God,  as  our  surety,  exposed  himself  for 
us  to  bear  the  penalty  of  God's  violated  law,  he  must,  when  Avrestling 
Aviih  death,  be  forsaken  of  God.  Standing  in  our  stead,  he  must  feel  the 
whole  weight  of  the  wrath  of  God,  and  in  the  judgment  of  God  be 
regarded  as  one  who  has  dejiarted  from  God.  He  that  defies  the  om- 
nipotent God — that  will  not  hear  the  all-mse  God,  that  cares  not  for 
the  omnipotent  God,  that  makes  the  God  of  truth  a  liar,  "  despising  the 
riches  of  his  goodness  and  mercy,"  and  repaying  his  love  with  base  in- 
gratitude— surely  he  well  deserves  to  be  foi-saken  of  the  everlasting  God 
— to  be  overwhelmed  by  the  weight  of  the  wrath  of  God,  who  "is  not 
mocked."  And,  as  such,  did  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  our  representa- 
tive, stand  before  God,  and  therefore  was  he  forsaken  of  God. 

We  can  not  comprehend  this  desertion  by  God  ;  it  is  beyond  our  every 
faculty,  and  every  conception.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the  Son  of  God  feels 
here  the  enormous  weight  of  all  that  our  sins  deserved ;  the  mercy  of  God 
is  hidden  from  him;  he  feels  only  his  wrath,  and  naught  of  his  grace  and 
loving  kindness.  Though  we  comprehend  not  how  it  was  possible  for  the 
holy,  undefiled  Son  of  God,  thus  to  be  loaded  with  that  abominable  sin 
which  he  hated,  and  thus  to  pay  its  full  penalty,  it  is  yet  certain  that  he 
was  here  "made  sin  for  us,  that  Ave  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of 
God  in  him ;"  that  "the  deep  waters"  of  the  terrors  of  God  went  even  over 
\'s  soul;  that  the  thick  clouds  of  deepest  anguish  were  heaped  up,  one 
above  another,  till  at  last  all  the  terrors  of  eternity,  all  the  pains  of  hell, 
all  tlie  Avrath  of  divine  justice,  were  concentrated  in  the  agony  that  forced 
from  him  the  cry,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" 

Come  hither,  then,  ye  sinners,  who  woiild  make  of  the  living  God  a 
Aveak  Eli,  Avinking  at  the  ti'ansgressions  of  his  rebellious  children !  Come 
hither,  ye  impenitent  sinners,  Avho,  Avith  a  fcAV  prayers  and  a  little  ahns- 
giving,  Avould  purchase  heaven  ! — come  hither,  and  learn  in  the  abandon- 
ment by  his  Father  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  that  the  AATath  of  God,  that 
his  holy  indignation  against  sin,  is  no  empty  threat!  If  the  groat  God 
spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  suffered  him  to  feel  the  unutterable  pangs 
of  his  aA'enging  justice,  hoAv  shall  ye  escape  the  threatened  damnation 
of  hell? 

But  come  hither,  also,  ye  despiscrs  of  God  and  of  his  word,  Avho  have 
turned  from  his  ways  to  walk  in  your  own  Avay — that  Avay  Avhose  end  is 
death  ;  come  hither  and  see  how  ardently  the  loving  heart  of  God  desires 
the  redemption  of  the  most  sinful,  the  most  wretched.  Behold  in  the 
hiding  of  his  face  from  his  beloved,  a  manifest  proof  that  he  is  ready  to 
lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  you,  and  to  blot  out  your  un- 
numbered sins.  Does  he  provide  such  a  sin-offering  as  abundantly  satis- 
fies his  justice  ?  O  doubt  not  thenJiis  perfect  willingness  to  receive  you 
into  the  bosom  of  his  compassionate  love !     Here,  in  this  desertion  by 


108  EMIL    W.     KRUMMACHER. 

God  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Cliiist,  beams  forth  upon  us  not  only  the  justice  of 
God,  but  the  fullness  of  his  mei'cy  in  a  divine  radiance,  sufficient  to  dispel 
every  shade  of  doubt  as  to  his  desire  "  to  save  to  the  uttermost  them 
that  come  unto  Inm."  aS^ow  is  the  great  gulf  that  separated  condemned 
siuners  from  a  holy  God,  henceforth  and  forever  so  filled  up  that  we  may, 
with  joyful  hearts,  fearlessly  pass  over  it  into  the  arms  oi  a  reconciled 
God — a  loving  Father. 

III.  But  this  leads  us  to  the  third  point  we  had  proposed  for  consid- 
eration :  a  still  further  contemplation  of  the  fruits  of  this  abandonment 
of  Christ. 

These  fruits  are  precious  above  all  price ;  but  they  are  only  for  the 
penitent  sinner,  for  believing  hearts,  for  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  "  those 
that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness."  We  speak  not  now  to  you, 
proud  sinners,  who  still  turn  your  backs  upon  the  Lord,  and  by  presump- 
tuous sins  are  still  daily  pouring  contempt  u'pon  God  and  his  laws.  To 
you  we  must  repeat  the  words  of  Christ,  and  may  the  Spirit  of  God  re- 
echo them  in  thunder-tones  in  your  ears :  "  If  these  things  be  done  in  the 
green  tree,  what  shall  be  done  in  the  dry?"  Ye  shall  not  see  God,  "for 
your  sins,"  as  Isaiah  saith,  "  have  hid  his  face  from  you.''  To  you  it  is 
not  said,  nor,  unless  you  repent,  will  it  ever  be  said,  "  Come,  ye  blessed 
of  my  Father."  Alas  !  to  you  rather  belongs,  in  aU  its  terrors,  "Depart 
from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his 
angels."  No  ;  so  long  as  your  eyes  are  still  unopened  to  see  how  "  yoiif 
iniquities  have  separated  between  you  and  your  God,"  so  long  as 
you  come  not  to  Jesus,  self-condemned,  in  contrition  of  heart,  and  in 
fitith  that  he  alone  can  save, — he  alone  deliver, — even  so  long  the  fruits  of 
this  abandonment  of  Christ  belong  not  to  you.  Only  when  we  are  made 
to  expeiience  somewhat  of  being  forsaken  of  God,  as  Christ  was ;  only 
when  we  bitterly  feel  and  humbly  acknowledge  that  we  well  deserve,  for 
our  multiijlied  transgressions,  to  be  forsaken  of  God ;  only  when,  in  the 
conviction  of  that  utter  helplessness  which  self-knowledge  brings  with  it, 
we  turn  from  the  broken  cisterns  of  human  consolation,  and  as  wretched, 
hell-deserving  sinners,  prostrate  ourselves  at  the  lowest  step  of  the  throne 
of  God — then  only  do  we  become  partakers  of  the  glorious  fruits  of  this 
abandonment  of  Christ.  But  to  you,  who  are  thus  self  condemned  as  vile 
sinners,  to  you,  highly-favored  souls,  who  have  been  given  to  see  in  the 
desertion  of  Christ  your  merited  curse,  and  whose  heart's  conviction, 
through  grace,  it  is,  that  only  free,  unmerited  mercy  could  have  plucked 
you  as  brands  from  the  burning — to  you  belong  the  precious  fruits  of 
these  death-pangs  of  our  surety.  O !  lay  hold  of  them  joyfully,  and 
suffer  neither  Satan  nor  your  own  evil  heart  of  unbelief  to  keep  you 
back. 

This  abandonment  of  Christ  on  the  cross  is  a  bridge  of  God's  own  con- 
struction ;  firm  as  the  rock,  never  to  be  destroyed.     It  is  the  passage 


THE  ABAXDOXMENT  OF  CHRIST  ON  THE  CROSS.    IC'O 

from  the  region  of  the  shadow  of  cleatli,  into  tlie  .abode  of  everlastiwg 
liglit  and  everlasting  peace.  We  may  tread  it  with  firm  step,  confident, 
rejoicing  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ;  however  the  waves  of  our  trans- 
gressions may  roar,  and  rage,  and  swell,  this  bridge  defies  the  roaring 
torrent  and  the  swelling  flood. 

The  abandonment  on  the  cross  is  a  deep  gulf,  an  unfathomable  abyss, 
into  which  we  may  cast  all  our  anxieties,  all  our  cares,  all  our  sins — 
even  those  of  deepest  dye,  even  those  that  are  grown  up  into  the 
heavens — and  they  shall  no  more  be  found,  but  shall  be  hiJJen  forever 
and  evei-. 

In  this  abandonment  of  Christ,  a  pledge  is  given  unto  us  by  the  eter- 
nal God  himself,'  that  he  will  never  more  abandon  those  debtors  for  whom 
the  surety  thus  paid  all  the  debt.  He  may  indeed,  at  times,  hide  his  foce 
fi'om  us,  and  appear  as  though  he  would  never  again  manifest  himself  to 
help  and  bless.  But  it  is  "for  a  small  moment ;"  with  great  mercies  will 
he  gather  us ;  his  bowels  are  again  "troubled  for  Ephraim,"  and  he  wiil 
surely  have  mercy  upon  him. 

Again.  This  abandonment  is  a  charter  of  our  citizenship  in  heaven — 
a  passport  thither — a  privilege  which  we  may  plead  before  the  judgment- 
throne.  The  effectual  power  of  this  abandonment  of  our  surety  and 
j^-opitiation  is  so  infinite,  that  we  may  fearlessly  stand  in  the  judgment. 
We  shall  be  judged,  but  shall  not  be  condemned,  for  "there  is  now  no 
condemnation  to  them  that  are  in  Christ  Jesus."  They  have  already 
been  judged,  have  already  borne  the  curse,  already  been  forsalceu- 
of  God  in  their  surety.  Therefore,  "  rejoice  greatly,  O  Zion ;  shout, 
O  daughter  of  Jerusalem  ;  make  a  cheerful  noise  unto  the  God  of  Jacob, 
ye  childi-en  of  the  living  God  ;"  to  you  the  great  day  of  the  Lord  will  be 
a  welcome,  a  blessed  day,  when  you  shall  pass  into  the  kingdom  of  God, 
there  fore'\-er  to  see,  and  love,  and  praise  him. 

Still  further.  The  abandonment  of  Christ  on  the  cross  is  a  key  where- 
with we  may  open  to  ourselves  the  secret  chambers  of  communion  willi 
our  God.  No  longer  need  we  stand  like  slaves,  trembling  without ;  we 
are  no  more  strangers,  no  longer  afar  off,  but  have  been  brought  nigli  to 
bo  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  to  receive  the  adoption  of  children. 
The  high  and  holy  One  has  become  our  Father,  who  takes  us  into  his 
arms,  and  to  his  heart,  as  dear  children,  and  sends  "forth  the  Spirit  oi 
his  Son  into  our  hearts,  crjang,  Abba,  Father." 

And  does  any  one  ask  how  we  dare  draw  near  wilh  such  l)oldness,  and 
hoi)e  in  him  so  confidently,  and  speak  to  him  so  fi-eely  of  all  that  is  in 
our  heart.?  We  point  to  our  crucified  Surety,  and  reply,  " Because  he  A\a.s 
forsaken  for  me,  and  in  my  stead,"  Here  is  my  peace.  "The  mountains 
may  depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed,  but  the  covenant  of  peace,"  con- 
firmed by  the  blood  of  the  Lamb^  "shall  never  be  removed,"  but 
"  standeth  fixst  forever  and  ever  !" 


DISCOURSE    IX. 

PHILIP     SCHAFF,     D.D. 

For  the  last  fourteen  years,  this  distinguished  German  divine  has  resided  in  this, 
the  land  of  his  adoption.  He  was  born,  Janaury  1,  1819,  at  Coire,  Switzerland, 
the  son  of  an  honest  mechanic  of  the  same  name,  and  became  early  united  with  the 
G-erman  Reformed  Church.  His  education  was  received,  first  in  the  college  at 
Coire,  then  in  the  Institution  of  Kornthal,  the  College  of  Stuttgart,  and  the  Universi- 
ties of  Tubingen,  Halle,  and  Berhn.  In  his  25th  year  he  was  ordained  in  the  Ger- 
man Reformed  Church,  at  Elberfield,  by  Dr.  F.  W.  Krummacher,  Dr.  Sander,  and 
other  Prussian  clergymen.  He  has  never  been  pastor,  but  was  for  a  time  Professor 
of  Theology  at  the  University  of  Berlin ;  and,  in  the  year  1844,  was  called  as  Pro- 
fessor of  Theology  to  the  Theological  Seminary  of  the  German  Reformed  Church  at 
Mercersburg,  Pa.,  a  position  which  he  has  honorably  filled  ever  since. 

Dr.  SchaiF,  though  yet  a  comparatively  young  man,  has  become  extensively 
known  as  an  engaging  and  solid  wiiter.  Some  of  his  best  known  publications  are 
called :  "  Sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost,"  1841  (German)  ;  "  James,  the  Brotlier  of  the 
Lord,"  1842  (German) ;  "  The  Principle  of  Protestantism,"  1845  (German  and  En- 
glish) ;  "  Historical  Development,"  1846  (Euglish) ;  "  History  of  the  Apostohc 
Church,"  1853  (German  and  English;  both  editions  were  reprinted  in  Europe); 
"Life  and  Labors  of  St.  Augustine,"  1854  (German  and  Enghsh);  "America;  its 
Pohtical,  Social,  and  Rehgious  Condition,"  1854,  in  Berlin,  and  translated  in  1855, 
in  New  York.  He  has  also  published  a  number  of  orations,  essays,  and  articles  in 
American  and  European  journals,  and  is  one  of  the  editors  of  the  "  Mercersburg 
Review."  It  is  understood  that  he  has  in  preparation  a  "  Manual  of  Church  His- 
tory," from  the  beginning  to  the  present  time,  in  three  volumes,  the  first  volume  of 
which  is  now  nearly  ready  for  publication. 

Dr.  Schaff' s  reputation,  however,  as  a  writer,  rests  mainly  upon  his  "  History  of 
the  Apostolic  Church,"  which  has  received,  in  aU  quarters,  high  commendation.  Its 
general  estimate  is  pretty  fairly  represented  in  a  notice  of  the  "Princeton  Review  :" 

"  The  book  is  eminently  scholarHke  and  learned,  full  of  matter,  not  of  crude  ma- 
terials crammed  together  for  the  nonce  by  labor-saving  tricks,  but  of  various  and 
well-digested  knowledge,  the  result  of  systematic  training  and  long-continued  study. 
Beside  the  evidence  of  solid  learning  which  the  book  contains,  it  bears  the  impress 
of  an  original  and  vigorous  mind,  not  only  in  the  clear  and  hvely  mode  of  represent- 
ation, but  also  in  the  large  and  elevated  views  presented.  The  author's  power  of 
a* Lending  both  to  great  and  small  in  due  proportion,  t]iiov>^s  over  the  rietails  a  plcas- 
Iul;'  air  of  philosophical  redvClion.  n\i.leri,'ii  .-l.iU  more  atti'.'.cftvc  bj  c.  u;:ge  of  poe(t;y, 
too  fuint  to  vitiate  the  manly  prose  of  histiiy,  but  strong  rtiorgh  to  satisfy  tliat 


JACOI     WRESTLING    WITH     GOD.  HI 

craving  of  imaginative  beauty  which  appears  to  be  demanded  by  the  taste  of  the 
day,  even  in  liistorical  composition.  In  point  of  style,  and  indeed  of  literary  execu- 
tion generally,  there  is  no  church  history  in  German  known  to  us,  excepting  tliat 
of  Hase,  that  deserves  to  be  compared  with  that  before  us.  This  experimental 
volume,  were  its  faults  and  errors  far  more  grave  and  numerous  than  we  think  they 
are,  would  still  place  its  author  in  the  higliest  ranic  of  living  or  cotemporary  church 
historians." 

Dr.  Schaff  preaches  very  frequently,  if  not  indeed  regularly :  sometimes  in  En- 
glish, but  more  frequently  in  German.  Judging  by  the  specimen  here  given,  the 
same  clearness,  strength,  and  elegance  of  style,  the  same  chaste  and  manly  elo- 
quence, Iresh  and  glowing  with  thought  and  lively  fancy,  must  characterize  his 
pulpit  productions.  The  subjoined  discourse  we  have  been  kindly  permitted  to 
translate  from  the  author's  manuscript. 


JACOB    WRESTLING    WITH    GOD. 

"  And  Jacob  was  left  alone  ;  and  there  -nTestled  with  him  a  man,"  etc. — Gex.,  xxxii.  24-31. 

Our  text  carries  us  back  tliousauds  of  years  to  the  time  of  the 
patriarchs,  to  those  peaceful  days  of  childlike  simplicity,  and  unhesi- 
tating confidence  in  God.  Who  of  us  has  not  felt  himself  aroused, 
shamed,  and  quickened,  as  he  has  read  of  father  Abraham,  the  friend  of 
God,  whose  life  speaks  loudly  to  us  of  that  justifying  faith  which  held 
fast  unwaveringly  to  the  promise  of  the  Lord  ;  or  of  Isaac,  whose  days 
passed  noiselessly  and  soberly  away,  teaching  us  that  "  through  quietness 
and  confidence  shall  be  our  strength  ?"  or  of  Jacob  and  his  many  storms 
and  conflicts,  confirming  the  apostle's  word  that,  "  through  much  tribu- 
lation we  must  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God  ?" 

We  here  meet  with  Jacob  in  one  of  those  conjunctures  where  no 
human  counsel,  no  natural  power,  nothing  but  confidence  in  God,  and 
prayer,  could  help  him.  Such  straits  the  Lord  frequently  sends  to  prove 
the  faith  of  his  children,  and  bind  them  by  his  wonderful  deliverances, 
n).ore  closely  to  himself 

The  patriarch  was  now  on  his  return  from  Mesopotamia,  toward  Ca- 
nnan.  He  had  fled  away  secretly  from  his  uncle  Laban,  avIio  envied 
him  on  account  of  the  wealth  which  he  had  acquired.  Laban  pursued 
to  take  vengeance  upon  him.  But  God  turned  Laban's  heart  in  a  dream 
by  night,  and  disposed  him  to  reconciliation ;  and  they  parted  in  peace 
fi-om  each  other  on  Mount  Gilead.  Hardly,  however,  had  Jacob  escaped 
from  this  danger,  when  he  was  involved  in  another  still  more  serious. 
He  was  now  on  the  borders  of  the  land  of  Seir,  where  his  brother  dwelt. 
You  remember  his  crafiy  proceedings  when  he  defrauded  Esau  of  his 
b.i;thij^i;ht.  Yon  knov.' lh:r;.  the  Letter,  in  liic  anger,  tlirentened  to  slriy 
ius  brother.     Tnie,  Jp.cob  had,  at  that  time  escnped,  but  now  he  must 


112  PHILIP     SCIIAPF. 

needs  pass  through  the  land  of  Esau,  and  had  the  worst  to  fear.  Indeed, 
the  messengers  whom  he  had  sent  forth,  returned  with  the  fearful  tidings, 
"  we  came  to  thy  brother,  to  Esan,  and  also  he  cometh  to  jneet  thee,  and 
four  hundred  men  with  him." 

Thus  Jacob  stood  in  doubt  of  his  life ;  and  not  only  for  his  ovm  person 
had  he  to  fear,  but  also  for  his  herds,  his  numerous  retinue,  his  wife  Leah, 
the  beloved  Rachel  for  whose  sake  he  had  served  fourteen  years  in  the 
s^veat  of  his  brow,  and  for  his  children  who  were  as  dear  to  him  as  his 
own  life.  All  this  increased  his  anxiety  tenfold.  And  to  this  was  added 
linally,  the  consciousness,  that  he  had,  in  his  youth,  dealt  treacherously 
Avith  Esau,  and  deserved  severe  punishment.  This  sense  of  guilt  probably 
gave  the  sharpest  sting  to  his  anxiety,  and  made  it  hard  for  him  to 
encourage  himself  with  the  assistance  of  Jebovah.  "  Thus  Jacob  was 
greatly  afraid  and  distressed." 

And  what  did  he  do  in  this  extremity  ?  He  at  once  availed  himself 
of  every  means  which  his  remarkable  prudence  suggested  to  him.  First 
of  all  he  divided  his  herds  and  his  retinue  into  two  bands,  that  if  Esau 
should  smite  one  of  them,  the  other  might  escape.  He  then  sent  servants 
with  very  valuable  presents  to  his  brother,  in  order,  if  possible,  to  turn 
his  heart  to  kindness.  And  such  providential  measures  were  eminently 
proper.  Trust  in  God  is  not  sloth  nor  neglect  of  the  means  aflforded  for 
defense  and  help.  Understanding,  deliberation,  energy,  and  all  the 
powei'g  of  tne  soul  and  body,  are  given  us  to  be  faithfully  and  conscien 
.iously  used. 

But  all  this  was  not  now  sufficient.  JPmy  and  work — "  ora  ac  labora" 
— is  the  injunction  of  th-^  old  proverb.  Jacob  knew  from  his  own  expe- 
rience, that  all  human  aid,  all  natural  powers,  are  nothing,  without  assist- 
ance from  above ;  that  all  blessing  and  all  success  depend  finally  on  the 
free  grace  of  Jehovah.  He  fled  for  refuge,  therefore,  under  the  wings 
of  the  God  of  his  forefathers,  and  prayed,  with  firm  confidence  in 
his  promises,  and  with  an  honest  heart :  "  God  of  my  father  Abraham, 
God  of  my  father  Isaac,  0  Lord,  who  saidst  to  me.  Return  to  thy  coun- 
',ry  and  to  thy  kindred,  and  I  will  deal  well  with  thee ;  I  am  less  than  all 
'.he  mercies  and  all  the  faithfulness  which  thou  hast  shown  to  thy  ser- 
vant; for  I  had  nothing  but  this  staif  when  I  passed  over  this  Jordan, 
ntid  now  I  am  become  two  bands.  Deliver  me  from  the  hand  of  my 
lii'.-other,  from  the  hand  of  Esau,  for  I  fear  him  lest  he  should  come  and 
smite  me,  the  mother  with,  the'  cHuldren.  And  thou  hast  said,  I  will  sui'cly 
do  thee  good  and  make  thy  seed  as  the  sand  of  the  sea  which  can  not  be 
numbered  for  multitude." 

Yet  not  even  with  this  was  Jacob  content.  The  necessity  of  his  heart 
drove  him  to  spend  the  whole  night  with  God.  Then  occurred  that 
remarkable  struggle  which  our  text  describes.  This  occurrence,  like  the 
vision  of  the  heavenly  ladder  at  Bethel,  the  temptation  and  transfigura- 
tion of  Christ,  and  Paul's  being  transported  to  the  tliird  heaven,  belong 


JACOB     WRESTLING    WITH     C40D.  113 

to  tliose  mysterious  transactions  in  which  man  is  carried  away  to  a 
higher  sphere  of  being,  and  enjoys  experiences  which  far  transcend  tliose 
of  ordinary  Hfe.  The  sensible  forms  in  which  these  experiences  clothe 
tliernsclvcs,  are  of  a  symbolical  chai-acter,  that  is,  they  are  significant  in- 
dications  of  spiritual  states  and  exercises.  They  may,  doubtless,  as  in 
the  case  before  us,  by  reason  of  the  close  connection  between  soul  and 
body,  operate  also  upon  the  material  frame,  and  leave  their  traces  in  it. 
But  the  important  matter  in  regard  to  them,  is  that  which  takes  place 
within  the  experien^^e  of  the  soul. 

Holy  Scripture,  which  always  itself  best  understands  and  interprets 
itself,  teaches  us  that  this  event  is  not  so  much  a  bodily  contest  as  a 
struggle  of  the  soul  with  God.  The  prophet  Hosea  gives  us  the  key  to 
the  xmderstanding  of  the  wonderful  occurrence,  when  he  says  concerning 
Jacob,  that  "  with  all  his  strength  he  strove  with  God  ;  yea,  he  strove 
with  the  angel  and  prevailed,  for  he  wept  and  made  supplication  to  him." 

We  have,  therefore,  presented  to  us  here,  a  victorious  pi-ayer-strife, 
which  let  us  more  closely  consider. 

~  In  a  certain  sense  all  jjrayer  may  be  called  a  struggling  -^vith  God,  as 
Paul  boasts  of  Epaj^hras,  that  "  he  always  struggles  for  the  Colossiaus  in 
prayers,"  and  calls  on  the  Romans  "  to  strive  together  with  him  in  pray- 
ers to  God."  But  there  are  cases  where  this  is  true  in  a  stricter  sense, 
where  the  powers  of  darkness  encamp  around  us,  and  the  doors  of  God's 
heart  seem  to  be  shut  fast  against  us,  where  heaven  must  be  stormed,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  most  strenuous  exertion  of  all  the  powers  of  the  soul. 
So  did  the  Saviour  strive  in  the  dark  night  of  his  agony  in  Gethsemane^ 
even  to  bloody  sweat.  So  did  the  great  Reformer  storm  the  citadel  of 
mercy  '^'ith  the  prayer  of  faith,  when  his  friend  and  fellow-laborer,  and 
with  him  the  hope  of  the  Reformation,  lay  sick  unto  death,  and  all  hu- 
man heljis  refused  their  aid.  So  strives  many  a  pious  husband  and  father 
when  the  dearest  heart  he  has  on  earth,  groans  under  the  pains  of  a  dan- 
gerous sickness.  To  such  extraordinary  supplications  belongs  the  prayer 
of  Jacob. 

"  And  he  remained  cdoneP  This  we  can  easily  comprehend.  The 
lamentations  of  wives  and  children  over  threatening  death,  disturbed  him 
in  his  intercourse  with  God.  Gladly,  in  the  depths  of  its  sorrow,  does 
the  pious  heart  seek  solitude  where  the  tumult  of  life  reaches  not,  and  no 
cold  listener  interrupts  the  sighs  and  supplications  which  rise  to  him 
who  delivereth  out  of  all  troubles.  It  was  night.  She  spread  her  black 
wings  over  the  patriarch,  she  encompassed  him  with  her  dismal  gloom. 
But  night  is  also  the  time  of  longing,  of  homesickness  after  the  eternal 
fatherland,  the  time  for  undisturbed  meditation  on  divine  things,  of 
blessed  communion  with  God.  The  injiumerable  stars  in  the  firmament 
reminded  him  of  the  promise  repeatedly  given  to  him  and  his  fatliers,  of 
a  like  innumerable  posterity.  The  faithful  shepherd  and  keeper  of  Israel, 
he  sleepeth  not  nor  slumbers;  on  his  arm  he  who  rests,  though  in  the 


1]^^  PHILIP    SCHAFF, 

open  iielcl,  and  surrounded  by  foes,  rests  safe  and  blessed.  In  his  pres- 
ence we  may  well  forego  the  intercourse  of  men.  In  the  light  of  his 
countenance,  even  midnight  itself  becomes  the  perfect  day. 

While  Jacob,  in  his  nocturnal  sohtude,  gave  himself  up  to  earnest 
meditation,  anxiety,  and  hopes,  "  there  wrestled  a  man  with  him.''''  Who 
is  this  stranger  who  so  suddenly  grasps  the  helpless  patriarch  ?  From 
the  expression,  "  Then  he  saw  that  he  prevailed  not  against  him,"  we 
might  conclude  that  he  was  but  a  weak  person.  But  immediately  after- 
ward we  are  told  that  he  put  Jacob's  thigh  out  of  jpint ;  and  that  indi- 
cates superhuman  strength.  ,  After  the  struggle  was  ended,  he  gives  him 
the  name  Israel,  that  is,  GocVs  combatant.  Jacob  calls  the  place  Pe- 
NiEL,  and  glories  in  having  seen  God  face  to  face.  Now  the  mysterious 
antagonist  stands  with  open  visor  before  our  eyes ;  he  is  no  other  than 
Jehovah  in  the  form  of  the  Angel  of  the  Covenant.  Hence,  Hosea  says, 
also,  first,  that  Jacob  strove  with  God,  and  again  that  he  strove  with  the 
angel.  In  various  forms,  under  the  old  covenant,  God  thus  deigned  to 
reveal  himself  to  his  servants,  according  to  their  needs  and  their  capaci- 
ties for  comprehension,  until  at  last  he  became  man,  and  so  entered  into 
a  personal  and  perpetual  imion  with  our  nature,  that  we  might  no  longer 
need  those  imperfect  methods  of  revelation. 

The  contest  endured  "  till  the  break  of  day.''''  That  was  a  long  prayer ; 
can  you  boast  of  any  thing  like  it  in  your  own  case  ?  I  know  well,  in- 
deed, that  the  worth  of  prayer  depends  not  on  its  length,  but  on  its  sub- 
stance; not  on  its  quantity,  but  on  its  quality.  It  is  the  heathen  who 
make  many  words  in  prayer,  with  little  feeling  in  them.  The  Lord's 
2)rayer '  is  short,  and  yet  the  best  which  ever  rose  to  heaven.  One  sigh 
fiom  a  deeply  agitated  heart,  one  homesick  glance  toward  the  hills  from 
which  Cometh  our  help,  one  penitent  blow  on  the  breast,  with  the  cry, 
"  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  poor  sinner !"  may  be  much  more  precious 
in  God's  eyes,  and  produce  a  much  more  blessed  result,  than  many 
along  and  most  beautifully-worded  address  to  God.  But  yet  there 
are  times  when  we  ought  to  cultivate  intercourse  with  God,  for  hours 
together,  especially  under  spiritual  temptations,  before  important  un 
dertakings,  in  connection  with  momentous  changes  in  the  course  of 
our  life,  or  with  public  calamities,  such  as  war,  pestilence,  famine,  con- 
flagrations, and  floods.  Tlie  Psalmist,  in  a  time  of  heavy  affliction  ex- 
claims, "  O,  Lord  God  of  ray  salvation,  I  cry  out  day  and  night  before 
thee."  We  read  concerning  the  Saviour,  that  he  spent  whole  nights 
in  prayer  to  his  heavenly  Father.  Of  the  first  Christians  it  is  said  that 
"  they  continued  steadfast  in  the  apostles'  doctrine,  and  in  fellowship, 
and  in  the  breaking  of  bread,  and  in  prayer?''  And  the  Apostle  Paul, 
in  the  beginning  of  several  of  his  epistles,  assures  his  readers  that  he 
always  offers  for  them  thanksgiving  and  supplication ;  nay,  he  admon- 
ishes the  Thessalonians  and  all  of  us,  "  Prny  xoithout  ceasing?''  The  whole 
life  of  the  Christian  ought  pi'operly  to  be  a  continuous  prayer  of  thanks- 


JACOB     WRESTLINQ    TTITH     GOD.  115 

giving  and  petition,  a  now  silent,  and  now  vocal  conversation  with  the 
Most  High.  What  a  holy  unction  would  thus  be  shed  over  all  our 
thoughts,  and  words,  and  works,  and  griefs ! 

But  you  say,  this  exceeds  the  powers  of  our  nature.  What !  Can  you 
not  from  early  morn  to  latest  eve,  run  and  chase  after  your  earthly  husi- 
ness  and  temporal  gains  ?  Can  you  not  watch  whole  nights  by  the  sick 
bed  of  a  friend,  or  spend  them  in  cheerful  conversation  ?  And  yet  you 
have  not  the  strength  to  watch  even  one  little  hour  with  the  Lord,  to 
whom  you  owe  all  that  you  have  and  all  you  are !  O  !  if  you  knevr  tlie 
love  of  Jesus  in  its  length,  and  breadth,  and  depth,  you  would  be  ashamed 
of  your  ingratitude  and  spiritual  sloth,  and  repent  of  it  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes !  O  !  if  you  knew  the  indescribable  blessedness  of  continued,  un- 
remitting prayer,  reaching  on  even  into  eternity,  you  would  seize  this 
means  of  grace  with  holy  zeal,  and  be  astonished  at  your  own  folly,  that 
you  had  neglected  it  so  long. 

Let  me  take  you  to  the  dying  couch  of  an  old  man,  long  acquainted 
with  the  privilege  of  prayer,  at  his  last  breath.  The  blessed  man  lay  sev- 
cral  hours  with  his  hands  folded  on  his  heart,  in  blissful  contemplation. 
His  ear  perceived  no  longer  the  tones  of  his  friends  who  would  fain  give 
him  the  last  farewell.  He  caught  the  triumphant  song  of  the  blessed, 
which  already  saluted  him  from  out  the  heavenly  city  of  God.  His 
eye  perceived  no  more  the  earthly  objects  which  surrounded  him,  but, 
full  of  silent  peace,  it  was  directed  upward,  and  saw  the  angels  and 
archangels,  and  that  company  which  no  man  can  number,  full  of  adora- 
tion, around  the  throne  of  the  Lamb.  More  and  more  widely  spread  the 
compass  ol  His  prayer,  until,  beginning  with  himself  and  his  family,  it  em- 
braced the  whole  human  race  ;  higher  and  still  higher  rose  the  flight  of 
liis  meditation,  quite  up  to  the  seat  of  the  triune  God  ;  more  and  more  de- 
vovTtly  trembled  his  dying  lips,  and  more  peacefully,  more  mildly  glanced 
his  eye,  hke  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Then  the  unfettered  spirit  for- 
sook its  dying  shell,  and  on  the  glorified  features  rested  the  exaltation  of 
prayer,  like  a  blessed  dream. 

"  A7id  when  he  smc  that  he  prevailed  not  against  him:''  What !  The 
almighty  One,  who  holdeth  the  world  in  his  right  hand,  as  a  ball;  who 
commandeth  the  tempest,  and  it  is  still ;  who  callcth  to  the  dead,  and 
they  rise  out  of  their  graves ; — does  he  not  prevail  against  a  man,  the 
work  of  his  fingers,  a  Avorm  of  the  dust  ?  Yes,  believe  me,  God  must 
yield  to  his  children  Avhen  they  rest  alone  on  his  promises  and  his  grace. 
He  has  bound  himself  by  his  own  word  :  "  I  will  do  thee  good  ;"  "  I  de- 
sire not  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but  that  he  should  repent  and  live ;" 
"Call  on  me  in  the  day  of  trouble,  I  will  deUver  thee,  and  thou  shalt  piaise 
me ;"  "  Ask,  and  it  shall  be  given  thee  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you ;"  "  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my  name  . 
I  will  do  it  unlo  you."  Of  such,  and  of  all  the  promises  of  God  and  his 
Son,  it  is  said  that  "  they  are  yea,  in  him,  and  in  him  they  are  amen." 


llg         ,  PHILIP     SCHAFF. 

'.'  He  rememlbereth  his  covenant  forever,  the  word  which  he  hath  prom 
isecl  to  a  thousand  generations."  "The  word  of  the  Lord  is  true,  and 
what  he  hath  promised,  he  hokleth  sure."  "  The  mountains  shall  depart 
and  the  hills  he  removed,  but  my  kindness  shall  not  depart  from  thee, 
neither  shall  the  covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed,  saith  the  Lord,  Avho 
hath  mercy  on  thee." 

But  consider  well  that  this  victory  over  God  in  believmg  prayer,  comes 
not  through  one's  own  strength,  but  depends,  rather,  on  the  subjugation 
of  all  self-righteousness,  and  on  the  complete  reliance  of  the  soul  on  the 
free,  unmerited  grace  of  our  Redeemer,  That  is  what  is  meant  by  the 
laming  of  the  hip-joint,  in  this  mysterious  contest.  "  When  he  saw  that 
he  prevailed  not  against  him,  he  touched  the  hollow  of  his  thigh,  and  the 
holloio  of  Jacobus  thigh  loas  oict  of  Joint  as  he  wrestled  loith  him.''''  The 
hip  is,  so  to  speak,  the  framework  on  which  the  body  rests,  so  that  when 
it  is  put  out  of  joint  the  man  can  no  longer  stand  on  his  own  feet,  but 
must  lean  on  some  other  support.  Self-love,  hkewise,  and  one's  own 
righteousness,  are  the  framework  on  which  the  natural  life  rests,  and 
when  this  is  broken  down,  the  sinner  hath  nothing  left  but  either  to 
despair  or  to  support  himself  on  the  mercy  of  God,  as  on  a  new  founda- 
tion which  not  all  the  powers  of  heaven  and  earth  can  shake.  Such  a 
displacement  of  the  hip  is  naturally  attended  with  bitter  pains,  and  so 
the  soul  breaks  forth  into  the  new  life  only  through  the  crushing  pangs 
of  repentance  and  shame.  Nay,  this  mortification  of  the  old  man  in  the 
Christian's  life  must  be  daily  renewed,  until  in  heaven  he  has  put  off  his 
earthly  covering,  and  escaped  from  all  temptations  to  evil.  We  may 
say  that  every  prayer  is  a  gomg  forth  out  of  self  and  its  merits,  and  an 
entering  into  Christ  and  his  merits ;  a  renunciation  of  all  our  own  power 
in  order  that  the  power  of  God  may  become  mighty ;  that  is  to  say,  in 
the  figurative  language  of  our  text,  an  unjointing  of  the  hip.  It  is  the 
peculiarity  of  the  Christian  that  in  his  defeat  he  conquers,  in  his  weakness 
he  is  strong,  and  through  the  gates  of  death  he  passes  into  life.  Thus 
our  patriarch,  after  his  natural  strength  was  broken,  became  only  the 
more  strong  in  his  soul.  For  now  he  clasped  the  neck  of  his  invisible  an- 
tagonist with  all  his  might,  so  that  whoever  would  overcome  him  must 
cast  that  antagonist  also  to  the  ground :  and  who  can  contend  against 
the  almighty  God  ? 

Still  another  trial  now  presented  itself  to  Jacob  before  he  gained  a 
complete  victory.  Clinging  fast  to  his  antagonist,  he  lay,  with  broken 
hip,  on  the  bosom  of  Jeho-vah,  or  of  his  angel,  till  the  morning  broke. 
Then  the  latter  commanded  him :  "  Let  me  go  !"  And  here  another 
question  arises  :  "  Could  God  really  wish  that  his  servant  Jacob  should 
allow  him  to  depart,  and  be  left  to  stand  again  on  his  own  feet,  especially 
.  now  when  his  hip  Avas  lamed  ?"  Certainly  not.  The  demand  is,  so  to 
speak,  an  artifice  of  eternal  Love,  to  try  the  faith  of  Jacob,  and,  by  try- 
ing, to  strengthen  it.     Often,  in  the  education  of  his  children,  does  the 


JACt)B     WRESTLING    WITH     GOD.  117 

all- wise  God  avail  himself  of  this  means  :  thus  he  tried  Abraham  when  he 
desired  of  him  the  oflering  of  his  son  Isaac,  that  his  unquestioning  obe- 
diecc  might  be  manifested  before  all  the  world  ;  thus  the  Saviour  re- 
pelled the  Syrophenician  woman  with  seeming  harshness,  that  she 
might  recognize  her  unworthiness,  and  the  more  pressingly  sup|)]icate 
for  help  ;  then  he  himself  exclaimed :  "  O  woman,  great  is  tliy  faith  ! 
Be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt !"  and  her  daughter  was  healed  that 
same  hour ;  thus  he  proved  the  disciples  from  Emmaus  on  the  day  of  his 
resurrection,  when  in  the  midst  of  a  comforting  conversation,  which 
caused  their  hearts  to  burn  within  them  for  joy,  "he  made  as  if  he  would 
go  further."  The  disciples,  however,  would  not  be  parted  from  him,  but 
constrained  him  and  said:  "Tarry  with  us;  for  it  is  toward  evening, 
and  the  day  is  far  spent."  And  behold  the  Lord,  who  merely  designed 
to  put  their  love  to  the  test,  "  went  in  to  tarry  with  them,"  and  brake 
the  bread  as  a  token  of  his  gracious  presence  and  indissoluble  commu- 
nion with  them. 

The  patriarch  understood  this  demand  perfectly.  He  had  no  desire  to 
separate  from  the  mysterious  strangei'.  The  opening  dawn  itself,  which 
might  reveal  to  him  the  hostile  company  of  Esau,  was  a  fresh  reason  for 
cleaving  fast  to  him.  '•'•  I  will  not  let  thee  go  except  thou  hless  me  .^"  was 
the  decided  answer  which  he  returned  to  the  demand,  "  Let  me  go." 
Welcome  to  us  should  be  those  words  of  faithful  love  and  of  believing 
constancy.  Let  us  refresh  ourselves  with  them,  and  by  them  let  us  feel 
ourselves  put  to  shame.  How  soon  do  we  become  impatient  and  dis- 
heartened, and  so  begin  to  complain  and  murmur  if,  instead  of  hearing  our 
prayer  at  once,  he  subjects  our  faith,  even  for  a  little,  to  the  fiery  trial. 
Away  with  this  faint  faith,  this  ingratitude,  this  despicable  weakness. 
Let  immovable  confidence  henceforth  be  the  foundation  of  our  prayer  ; 
And  Avhen  our  own  flesh  tempts  us  to  sin — when  the  world,  Avith  a 
thousand  alluring  voices,  would  lead  us  astray  from  the  path  of  heavenly 
blessedness  into  the  broad  way  of  destruction — when  the  prince  of  dark- 
ness threatens  to  let  loose  against  us  his  most  deadly  arrows — when  the 
waves  of  affliction,  foaming  and  raging,  dash  against  our  souls — then  let 
us,  from  full  hearts,  utter  forth  unto  the  Lord,  "  I  will  not  let  thee  go 
except  thou  bless  me,  Li  pi-ospcrity  and  in  adversity,  in  life  and  in 
death,  I  will  not  let  thee  go,  my  delight,  my  joy,  my  glory,  my  everlast- 
ing salvation  for  time  and  for  eternity !  Xo  ;  for  naught  will  I  let  thee 
go  ;  sooner  will' I  let  go  honor,  estate,  fortune,  the  world,  yea,  my  own 
life,  than  thee,  without  whom  life  were  death  to  me,  and  heaven  itself 
a  heU !" 

Now  Jacob  had  reached  the  height  of  victory.  Such  a  prayer,  God, 
the  faithful  and  true,  could  not  leave  unheard  :  lie  blessed  him  then,  with 
his  spiritual,  heavenly  blessing,  turned  aside  also  the  outward  danger  of 
death,  and  gave  him  a  new  name.  His  old,  unholy  name  of  Jacob 
reminded  him  of  the  deception  which  he  had  practiced  upon  Esau  and 


118  PHILIP     SCRAFF.         ► 

Luban,  and  was  suited  to  humble  him.  Now,  liowever,  when  he  had 
triumphed,  not  only  over  man,  but  from  God  also  had  wrested  his  bless- 
ing in  prayer,  he  received  the  honorable  title,  Israel,  that  is,  God's  com 
bataut.  With  this,  at  the  same  time,  was  laid  on  him  the  duty  of 
contending  evermore  for  God's  honor  against  all  his  enemies. 

And  that,  my  friends,  is  our  calling  also  on  the  earth.  Our  souls  ought 
to  strive  with  the  Lord,  in  tears  of  bitter  penitence,  and  with  the  glow 
ing  earnestness  of  faith,  till  he  turns  toward  us  his  reconciled  counte- 
nance, and  blesses  us  in  Jesus  Christ,  his  dear  Son.  Then,  when  wo 
shall  have  prevailed  with  God,  what  enemy  coujd  stand  against  us? 
After  such  a  victory,  every  other  victory  would  be  sure.  Strive,  there- 
fore, with  the  weapons  of  the  Sj^irit,  of  the  word,  and  of  jDrayer,  under 
the  banner  of  Christ,  having  on  the  shield  of  faith  and  the  helmet  of 
hope,  against  the  flesh,  the  world,  and  Satan,  and  rest  not  nor  tire  in  the 
holy  warfare,  until  every  enemy  lies  j^rostrate  at  your  feet.  To  you  also 
a  new  name  is  given,  which  shines  in  indelible  characters  in  the  Book  of 
Life.  God's  power  will  lead  you  from  contest  to  contest,  but  also  from 
victory  to  victory,  and,  finally,  will  give  you  the  great  universal  ti-iuraph, 
and  wreathe  your  brow  with  the  conqueror's  crown  of  eternal  life. 
There  is  no  more  sublime  spectacle  on  earth  than  that  of  a  soul  striving  in 
prayer  with  the  covenant-keeping  God.  The  angels  in  heaven  rejoice  in 
the  sight,  and  cry  aloud  over  the  head  of  the  suppliant :  "  Behold  he 
prayeth  !  Behold  he  striveth !  Behold  he  prevaileth !  and  instead  of  a 
Jacob  has  become  an  Israel !" 

Places  where  we  have  experienced  a  gracious  visitation  from  God,  be- 
come to  us  exceedingly  precious.  We  would  fain  set  up  there  a  grateful 
monument,  of  our  Ebenezer,  or  give  the  spot  a  name  which  might  tell 
even  to  future  generations  and  centuries,  the  goodness  of  the  Lord,  and 
aAvaken  in  him  holy  feelings  of  reverence  and  thanksgiving.  Thus, 
Jacob  named  the  place  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Jabbok,  Peniel,  that  is, 
God's  countenance,  "for  I  have  seen  God  face  to  face,  and  my  soul  is 
preserved."  Yes,  his  soul  was  preserved  from  all  fear  and  faintness, 
from  aU  unbelief  and  doubt,  preserved  unto  vigorous  soundness  of  his 
eternal  life.  What  a  blessing  to  behold  the  face  of  God  !  This  is  prom- 
ised to  us,  also,  if  we,  like  Jacob,  maintain  the  fight  of  faith  and  prayer. 
Now,  indeed,  "  we  see  only  through  a  glass,  darkly,  then  face  to  face. 
Now  we  know  in  part,  but  then  shall  we  know  even  as  we  are  kno^vm." 
Yes,  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is,  our  faithful  God  and  Lord  revealed  in  the 
flesh.  Who  can  describe  our  blessedness  when  we  shall  see  him  whose 
heart,  through  infinite  love,  was  broken  for  us  in  death ;  when  we  clasp 
that  hand  of  his  which  once  for  our  own  sin's  sake,  was  outstretched  and 
pierced  on  the  cross  of  Golgotha,  when  his  transfigured  countenance 
recognizes  us  as  his  own,  and  kmdly  smiles  upon  us ;  when  his  pure  lips, 
from  which  flow  only  the  words  which  "  are  spirit  and  life,"  shall  call  out 
to  us,  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father,  inherit  the  kingdom  prepared 


JACOB     WRESTLING    WITH    GOD.  119 

for  you  from  before  the  founclation  of  the  world,"  Here  the  pen  drops 
fi-om  our  hand,  and  no  artist  is  able  to  depict  this  bliss.  "  Eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  hath  it  entered  into  the  heart  of  man,  what 
God  hath  prepared  for  them  that  love  him." 

On  the  wings  of  faith  avc  have  raised  ourselves  above  the  bounds  of 
tiine  and  space,  we  have  caught  a  glimpse  through  the  pearly  gates  of 
the  eternal  city  of  God.  There  gladly  would  we  rest.  Peaceful  and 
homelike  is  it  to  us  on  these  pure,  heavenly  heights. 

But  the  end  of  our  text  assures  us  that  we  are  yet  on  the  earth  and 
surrounded  by  the  tumult  of  strife,  "vlwf?  as  he  pasaed  over  Peniel^  the 
sun  rose  upon  him^  and  he  limped  on  his  ihighP  But  could  such  be  the 
end  of  this  glorious  contest?  Be  not  alarmed!  The  limping  was  a  nat- 
ural consequence  of  the  dislocation,  and  even  this  consequence  was  not 
without  a  deep  signification  for  which  we  must  praise  God.  After  even 
the  most  glorious  experiences  of  faith  we  remain  still,  so  long  as  we  walk 
on  earth,  poor,  sinful,  and  fragile  creatures,  and  this  we  ought  never  to 
forget,  or  else  the  whole  blessing  with  which  God  has  blessed  us  is  lost, 
and  becomes  converted  into  a  curse.  Jacob's  halting,  therefore,  was 
made  to  him  a  lasting  admonition  to  humility  and  submission,  without 
which  we  can  not  please  God.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  at  the  same 
time,  a  memorial  which  at  every  step  reminded  him  of  God's  power  and 
his  great  blessing.  The  feeling  of  one's  own  impotence  and  that  of  the 
transcendant  power  of  God  go  hand  in  hand;  humility  and  faith  are 
inseparably  connected.  We  have  an  example  altogether  similar  in  the 
life  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  He  had  been  transported,  in  the  spirit,  hito 
the  third  heaven,  and  heard  unspeakable  words.  But  lest  he  should  be 
too  much  exalted  through  the  extraordmary  revelations,  there  was  given 
him  a  thorn  m  the  flesh,  a  messenger  of  Satan  to  buflet  him,  lest  he 
should  be  lifted  up.  And  although  he  thrice  besought  the  Lord  that  the 
messenger  of  Satan  might  depart  from  him,  still  the  answer  which  he 
received  was,  "  3Iy  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  ;  for  my  strength  is  made 
perfect  in  xceakness?''  "  Most  gladly,  therefore,"  the  apostle  proceeds, 
"  will  I  rather  glory  in  my  infirmities  that  the  power  of  Christ  may  rest 
upon  me.  Therefore,  I  take  pleasure  in  infirmities,  in  reproaches,  in 
necessities,  in  persecutions,  in  distresses,  for  Christ's  sake ;  for  when  I  am 
weak,  then  am  I  strong." 

In  yonder  blissful  eternity,  indeed,  all  sin  and  all  weakness  will  fall 
away  from  us,  but  the  remembrance  of  them  Avill  remain,  mingling  a 
holy  sadness  with  our  felicity,  and  elevating  our  gratitude  to  a  higher 
pitch.  Therefore,  the  king  of  heaven  himself  bears  still  on  high  the 
wounds  with  which  our  sins  pierced  him  here  below,  that  we  may  be 
perpetually  mindful  with  what  a  precious  sacrifice  our  salvation  was  pur- 
chased. 

In  hallelujahs 
Joy  will  stream  still  gushing  forth 


120  PHILir     SCHAFP. 

From  mighty  depths  of  sadness,  aud  the  ransomed  sinner 

Never  harp  wiU  touch,  nor  sweep  a  pinion 

Through  the  starry  regions,  without  shedding 

Holy,  thankful  tears,  and  inward  trembling 

Of  sweet  pain,  that  once  in  sickness  lying, 

He  to  life  was  healed  through  dying. 

In  wealthy  places 
"We  shall  still  our  poverty  remember, 
Still  find  our  souls  scarred  by  the  traces 
Left  by  sin  and  death  which  naught  effaces. 

But  the  same  poet  adds : 

From  earthly  sorrow 
Heavenly  gratitude  new  fire  will  borrow. 
Our  passage  through  death's  dread,  dividing  river, 
Joy  to  our  eternal  life  deliver. 

Every  Christian  has  his  "  thorn  m  the  flesh."  With  one,  it  is  poverty ; 
with  another,  it  is  disease ;  with  another,  it  is  an  evil  husband  or  wife ; 
with  another,  disobedient  children ;  with  another,  persecution ;  with 
another,  anxiety  or  despondency,  or  whatever  the  trials  and  sorrows  may 
be  with  which  God  would  keep  us  humble,  that  we  forget  not  prayer 
nor  forsake  the  fountain  of  all  comfort,  all  strength,  and  all  wisdom. 
But  he  tries  no  one  beyond  his  power,  and  lays  no  burden  on  any  one 
without  giving  him  strength  hkewise  to  bear  it.  As  Jacob  had  passed 
by  Peniel,  "  the  siin  rose  upon  him?''  It  lighted  and  warmed  him,  and 
showed  him  the  way  to  the  promised  land  which  flows  with  milk  and 
honey.  And  over  us,  for  our  comfort  and  strength,  shines  the  Sun  of 
mercy,  shines  for  us  through  night  and  through  horror,  through  depths 
and  heights,  even  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  at  last, 
and  onward  into  a  blessed  eternity  where  it  wUl  set  never  more ! 


C|  e    J' r  c  lu  I    |!  It  I f  1 1 . 


DISCOURSE    I. 

J.    H.    MERLE    D'AUBiaNE,    D.D. 

Tms  eloquent  and  distinguished  historian  and  preacher  was  bDrn  in  the  year  1794, 
on  the  margin  of  Lake  Lemnn,  Switzerland,  where  he  yet  resides.  Though  a  native 
of  Geneva,  he  is,  hke  many  of  the  inhabitants  of  that  "  city  of  refuge,"  of  French 
origin.  His  great-grandfather,  John  Lewis  Merle,  emigrated,  for  the  sake  of  his 
religion,  from  Nismes  to  Geneva,  about  the  epoch  of  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes.  His  son,  Francis  Merle,  in  the  year  1743,  married  Ehzabeth  d'Aubigme,  a 
daughter  of  Baron  George  d'Aubigne,  a  Protestant  nobleman  who  resided  in  that 
city,  and  who  was  a  descendant  of  the  celebrated  ChevaKer  Theodore  Agrippa 
d'Aubigne,  whose  memoirs  have  been  recently  published  in  this  country ;  a  faithful 
but  poorly-rewarded  adherent  of  Henry  IV.,  a  decided  Protestant,  a  brave  cavaher, 
a  prolific  author ;  the  grandfather  of  Madame  de  Mamtenon,  mistress  and  wife  of 
Louis  XIV. ;  and  in  his  old  age  was  exiled  to  Geneva  for  his  religion  by  the  un- 
grateful race  for  whose  elevation  to  the  throne  of  France  he  had  spent  twenty  long 
years  and  more  in  the  camp.  It  is  from  his  paternal  grandmother  that  Dr.  Merle 
derives  the  addition  of  D'Aubigne  to  his  name. 

His  immediate  progenitor  Avas  Aime  Robert  Merle  d'Aubigno,  born  in  1755,  the 
father  of  three  sons,  the  oldest  and  youngest  of  whom  are  respectable  merchants. 
He  was  educated  at  the  Academy,  or  University,  as  it  is  somtimes  called,  of  his  na- 
tive city,  and  was  designed  for  the  ministry  of  the  Protestant  Church.  He  Avas  led 
to  embrace  evangelical  sentiments  while  a  theological  student,  mainly  through  the 
influence  of  Mr.  Haldane,  of  Scotland,  while  residing  temporarily  at  Geneva.  Having 
finished  his  studies  at  Geneva,  LI.  Merle  went  to  BerUn  to  hear  the  lectures  of  the 
late  distinguished  Neander,  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  in  the  University  of 
that  city.  It  was  while  on  a  visit  to  Wartburg  castle^  the  scene  of  Luther's  captivity, 
that  he  resolved  to  write  the  "History  of  the  Eeformntion  of  the  Sixteenth  Century." 
For  several  years  he  was  pastor  of  a  French  church  in  Hamburg,  and  for  a  longer 
period  occupied  a  similar  position  in  Brussels,  where  he  was  the  favorite  court 
preacher  of  the  late  king  of  Holland,  who  resided  much  of  his  time  in  that  city,  from 
1815  to  1830.  In  the  summer  of  1830,  M.  Merle  returned  to  his  native  city,  where, 
upon  the  founding  of  the  new  theological  school  by  the  "Evangelical  Society  of 
Geneva,"  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  Chui-ch  History,  a  post  which  he  has  held 
and  adorned  ever  since.  "  We  had  the  pleasure,"  says  the  Rev.  Dr.  Turnbull,  "  a 
few  years  ago,  of  meeting  Dr.  Merle,  at  his  residence  in  Geneva,  and  at  the  house 
of  Colonel  Tronchin,  on  the  south-western  shore  of  the  lake.  He  is  a  noble-looking 
man,  with  much  dignity  and  affability  of  manner.  He  has  the  appearance  of  robust 
health,  although,  like  most  other  hard  students,  he  frequently  suffers  from  indispo- 
sition.    His  complexior  la  dark,  and  somewhat  floi'id  j  his  hair  black  and  massive  • 


124  J.    H.    MERLE     D'AIJBIGNE. 

forehead  broad  and  capacious ;  eyes  dark  and  piercing,  overshadowed  with  immense 
bushy  eyebrows,  and  his  wliole  countenance  indicative  of  intelligence,  decision,  and 
energy.  He  speaks  with  rapidity  and  force,  much  in  the  style  that  he  writes,  evin- 
cing great  enthusiasm  and  imagination.  Intermingled  with  all  tliis,  is  a  vein  of  so- 
briety, discrimination,  and  good  sense,  exceedingly  racy  and  refreshing.  Occasion- 
ally, he  seems  dogmatic,  and  almost  intolerant;  but  this  arises  from  the  clearness 
and  decision  of  his  views,  the  depth  and  fervor  of  his  feelings.  In  his  family,  and 
among  his  friends,  he  is  distinguished  by  his  amenity  and  kindness.  Simple-hearted 
as  a  chUd,  he  loves  his  home  and  his  kindred,  and  takes  great  delight  in  long  ram- 
bles and  tours  among  the  mountains.  His  family  is  large  and  interesting ;  and  one 
of  the  most  pleasing  sights  that  one  sees,  on  entering  his  house,  are  the  caps,  hats, 
and  playthings  of  the  children,  hanging  in  the  hall,  surmounted  by  a  large  and  well- 
used  map  of  the  United  States." 

"It  may  be  added,"  says  Dr.  TurnbuU,  "  that  Dr.  Merle  is  as  much  distinguished 
for  the  depth  of  his  piety  as  the  splendor  of  his  talents.  He  is  a  truly  humble, 
spuitual  man.  His  creed  is  decidedly  Calvinistic.  He  dwells,  with  intense  relish, 
on  the  strong  and  often  picturesque  and  eloquent  lauguage  of  the  old  Reformers, 
and  rejoices  in  their  stern  and  honest  advocacy  of  the  grand  doctrine  of  justification 
by  faith  alone,  the  test,  as  Luther  said,  of  a  standing  or  a  faUing  church." 

IJis  first  publication  consisted  of  a  volume  of  sermons,  printed  at  Hamburg.  He 
next  entered  upon  his  great  work,  "  The  History  of  the  Reformation  of  the  Sixteenth 
Century."  This  work  has  had  an  immense  circulation,  especially  in  Great  Britain 
and  the  United  States.  It  is  remarkable  for  vivacity,  and  vigor,  and  the  several 
quahties  of  an  eloquent  style,  as  well  as  for  its  historic  treasures.  M.  Merle  is  also 
the  author  of  several  volumes  of  less  importance,  a  "  Life  of  Cromwell,"  "  Germany, 
Scotland,  and  England,"  and  many  sermons  and  addresses,  of  which  an  interesting 
collection  has  been  translated  into  English  by  the  Rev.  Charles  W.  Baird,  and  pub- 
lished in  New  York  by  the  Harpers.  It  is  remarkable  that  one  descendant  of  the 
great  Theodore  Agrippa  d'Aubigne,  Madame  de  Maintenon,  should  have  done  so 
much  to  destroy  the  Reformation,  and  that  another,  at  this  distant  day,  should  do  so 
much  to  vindicate  and  extend  it. 

The  style  of  Dr.  Merle  is  vivacious  and  brilliant.  His  writings  generally  glow 
with  life,  and  sparkle  with  picturesque  beauties,  fine  conceptions,  and  striking 
expressions.  The  following  has  the  reputation  of  being  the  ablest  of  his  published 
discourses.  It  was  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  session  of  the  Theological  Seminary, 
in  October,  1842,  and  is  aimed  principally  against  the  innovations  of  Oxford  and 
Rome.  Its  very  great  length,  as  originally  dehvered,  has  made  it  necessary  to 
drop  some  of  its  more  local  allusions  and  extended  citations ;  but  the  train  of 
remark  is  carefully  kept  unbroken.  It  may  be  added  that  the  portrait  here  pre- 
sented, is  the  only  authentic  one  ever  published  in  America.  It  has  been  engraved 
from  a  picture  in  the  possession  of  his  son,  W.  Oswald  Merle  d'Aubigne,  a  resident 
in  this  country,  and  under  his  own  supervision.  It  is  pronounced  to  be  exceedingly 
life-hke  and  expressive. 


THE    THREE    ONLTS.  125 


THE    THREE    ONLYS. 

"  To  the  law  and  to  the  testimoii}'." — "  By  grace  ye  are  saved." — "  Bom  of  the  SpLi'it.'' 
— Isaiah,  viii.  20;  Era.,  ii.  5;  John,  iii.  6. 

TiiEKE  fire  throe  principles  which  form  the  essence  of  Christianity 
Tlie  first  is  what  we  may  call  its  formal  principle,  because  it  is  the 
means  by  which  this  system  is  foi-med  or  constituted  ;  the  second  is  what 
may  be  called  the  material  principle,  because  it  is  the  very  doctrine 
which  constitutes  this  religious  system  ;  the  third  I  call  the  personal  or 
moral  principle,  because  it  concerns  the  application  of  (/hristianity  to 
the  soul  of  each  individual. 

'D^Q,  formal  principle  of  Christianity  is  expressed  in  few  words :  Tim 
WoED  OF  God  ojoly. 

That  is  to  say,  the  Christian  receives  the  knowledge  of  the  truth  only 
by  the  Avord  of  God,  and  admits  of  no  other  source  of  religious  knowl- 
edge. 

The  material  principle  of  Christianity  is  expressed  -n-ith  equal  brevity  : 
The  Grace  of  Christ  oxly. 

That  is  to  say,  the  Christiai  receives  salvation  only  by  the  grace  of 
Christ,  and  recognizes  no  other  meritorious  cause  of  eternal  life. 

The  personal  principle  of  Christianity  may  be  expressed  in  the  most 
simple  terms :  The  Work  of  the  Spirit  onlv.. 

That  is  to  say,  there  must  be  in  each  soul  that  is  saved,  a  moral  and 
individual  work  of  regeneration  wrought  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  not 
by  the  simple  concurrence  of  the  church,*  and  the  magic  influence  ol 
certain  ceremonies. 

Recall  constantly  to  your  minds  these  three  simpie  truths  :  The  ioo7xl 
of  God  ONLY.  The  grace  of  Christ  only.  The  icork  of  the  Spirit  oni^y  ; 
and  they  will  truly  be  "  a  lamp  to  your  feet  and  a  light  to  your  paths." 

These  are  the  three  great  beacons  which  the  Holy  Spirit  has  erected 
in  the  church.  Their  effulgence  should  spread  from  one  end  of  the 
world  to  the  other.  So  long  as  they  shine,  the  church  walks  in  the 
light ;  as  soon  as  they  shall  become  extinct,  or  even  obscured,  darkness, 
like  that  of  Egypt,  will  settle  upon  Christendom.  As  Luther  said, 
"  With  them  the  church  stands,  and  without  them  the  church  falls." 
Let  us  consider  them. 

I.  T\\Q  formal  principle  of  evangelical  Christianity  is  this:  The  Woku 
OF  God  only. 

He  who  would  know  and  possess  the  truth,  in  order  to  be  saved, 
ought  to  study  that  revelation  of  God  which  is  contained  in  the  sacred 

*  The  -words  which  are  used  in  the  French  are  adjunction  de  VEglise ;  and  are  employed 
to  express  that  additional  or  concurrent  influence  which  the  church  ia  believed  by  the 
rus?yitj3  to  exert  in  r:}gener  ition  by  her  ministration. 


126  J"-    H.    MERLE    D'AUBIGNE. 

Scriptures,  and  to  reject  every  thii  r  Avhich  is  a  mere  human  addition — 
every  thing  which,  as  the  work  of  man,  may  be  justly  suspected  of  bemg 
impressed  with  a  dejjlorable  mixture  of  error.  There  is  only  one  source 
at  which  the  Christian  quenches  his  thirst ;  it  is  that  stream,  clear, 
limpid,  perfectly  pure,  which  flows  from  the  throne  of  God.  He  turns 
away  from  every  other  fountain  which  flows  parallel  with  it,  or  which 
Avould  fain  mingle  itself  with  it;  for  he  knows  that  on  account  of  the 
source  whence  these  streams  issue,  they  all  contain  troubled,  unwhole- 
some, perhaps  deadly  waters.  The  sole,  the  ancient,  the  eternal  stream, 
is  God;  the  new,  ephemeral,  failing  stream,  is  Man^;  and  we  will  quench 
our  thirst  but  in  God  alone.  God  is,  in  our  view,  so  full  of  sovereign 
majesty,  that  we  would  regard  as  an  outrage,  and  even  as  impiety,  the 
attempt  to  put  any  thing  by  the  side  of  his  word. 

But  this  is  what  the  authors  of  the  novelties  of  Oxford  are  doing. 
-'The  Scriptures,"  say  they,  in  the  Tracts  for  the  Times,  "are  eWdently 
not,  according  to  the  principles  of  the  Church  of  England,  therule  of 
faith.  The  doctrine  or  message  of  the  gospel  is  but  indirectly  presented 
hi  the  Scriptures,  and  in  an  obscure  and  concealed  manner."  "  Catholic 
tradition,"  says  one  of  the  two  prmcipal  chiefs  of  the  school,  "is  a  divine 
informer  in  rehgious  things  ;  it  is  the  unwritten  Avord.  These  two  things 
(the  Bible  and  Catholic  traditions)  together  form  a  united  rule  of  faith. 
Catholic  tradition  is  a  divine  source  of  knowledge  in  all  things  relating 
to  faith.  The  Scriptures  are  only  the  document  of  ultimate  appeal; 
Catholic  tradition  is  the  authoritative  teacher.?'  "  Tradition  is  inflxllible," 
says  another  divine  ;  "  the  unwritten  word  of  God,  of  necessity  demands 
of  us  the  same  respect  which  his  written  word  does,  and  precisely  for 
the  same  reason,  because  it  is  his  word."  "We  demand  that  the  whole 
of  the  Catholic  traditions  should  be  taught,"  says  a  third. 

Such  is  one  of  the  most  pestiferous  errors  which  can  be  disseminated 
in  the  church.  Whence  have  Rome  and  Oxford  derived  it  ?  Certainly 
the  respect  which  we  entertain  for  the  incontestable  learning  of  these 
divines  shall  not  prevent  our  saying  that  this  error  can  come  from  no 
other  source  than  the  natural  aversion  of  the  heart  of  fallen  man  for 
every  thing  that  the  Scriptures  teach.  It  can  be  nothing  else  than  a  de- 
praved will  which  leads  man  to  put  the  sacred  Scriptures  aside.  Men 
first  abandon  the  fountain  of  living  waters,  and  then  hew  for  themselves, 
here  and  there,  cisterns  which  will  hold  no  water.  This  is  a  truth  which 
the  history  of  every  church  teaches  in  its  successive  falls  and  errors,  as 
well  as  that  of  every  soul  in  particular.  The  theologians  of  Oxford  only 
follow  in  the  way  of  all  flesh. 

Behold,  then,  two  established  authorities  by  the  side  of  each  other — 
tlie  Bible  and  tradition.     We  do  not  hesitate  as  to  what  we  have  to  do. 

"  To  THE  Law  and  to  the  Testimony  !"  we  cry  with  the  prophet ; 
"  if  they  speak  not  according  to  his  word,  it  is  because  there  is  no  light 


THE     THREE     ONLYS.  127 

in  them ;  and  behold  troa1)le-  and  darkness,  dhnness  of  anguish ;  and 
they  shall  be  driven  to  darkness."  We  reject  tradition,  as  it  is  a  species 
of  rationalism  which  introduces  for  a  rule  in  Christian  doctrine,  not  the 
human  reason  of  the  present  time,  but  the  human  reason  of  times  past. 
We  declare,  witli  the  churches  of  the  Reformation  in  their  symbolical 
writings  (confessions  of  faith),  that  "  the  sacred  Scriptures  are  the  only 
judge,  the  only  rule  of  faith ;  that  it  is  to  them,  as  to  a  touchstone, 
that  all  dogmas  ought  to  be  brought ;  that  it  is  by  them  that  the  ques- 
tion should  be  decided,  whether  they  are  pious  or  impious,  true  or  false." 

"W^ithout  doubt  there  was  originally  an  oral  tradition  Avhich  was  pure ; 
it  was  the  instructions  given  by  the  apostles  themselves,  before  the  sacred 
writings  of  the  New  Testament  existed.  However,  even  then,  the 
apostle  and  the  evangelist,  Peter  and  Barnabas,  could  not  walk  up- 
rightly, and,  consequently,  stumbled  in  their  words.  The  divinely 
inspired  Scriptures  alone  are  infallible ;  the  word  of  the  Lord  endureth 
forever.  But,  however  pure  oral  instruction  may  have  been  at  the  time 
that  the  apostles  quitted  the  earth,  that  tradition  was  necessarily  exposed 
in  this  world  of  sin,  to  be  gradually  defaced,  polluted  and  corrupted.  It 
is  for  this  cause  that  the  Evangehcal  church  honors  and  adores,  with 
gratitude  and  humility,  the  gracious  good  pleasure  of  the  Saviour,  in 
virtue  of  which,  that  pure,  primitive  type,  that  first,  apostolic  tradition,  in 
all  its  purity,  has  been  rendered  permanent  by  being  written,  by  the  Spirit 
of  God  himself,  in  our  sacred  books,  for  all  coming  time.  And  now  it 
finds  in  those  writings,  as  we  have  just  heard,  the  divine  touchstone 
Avhich  it  employs  for  the  purpose  of  trying  all,  the  traditions  of  men. 

Nor  does  it  establish,  concurrently,  as  do  the  doctors  of  Oxford,  and 
the  Council  of  Trent,  the  tradition  which  is  loritten  and  the  tradition 
which  is  oral ;  but  it  decidedly  renders  the  latter  subordinate  to  the 
ibrmer,  because  one  can  not  be  sure  that  this  oral  tradition  is  only  and 
truly  the  apostolical  tradition,  such  as  it  was  in  its  primitive  piuity. 
The  knowledge  of  true  Christianity,  says  the  Protestant  church,  flows 
only  from  one  soui'ce,  namely,  from  the  holy  Scriptures,  or,  if  you  will, 
from  the  apostolic  traditioji,  such  as  we  find  it  contained  in  the  writings 
of  the  New  Testament.  The  apostles  of  Jesus  Christ — Peter,  Paul,  John, 
^Miitthew,  James — perform  their  functions  in  the  church  to-day  ;  no  one 
has  the  need  nor  the  power  to  take  their  place.  They  perform  their 
functions  at  Jerusalem,  at  Geneva,  at  Corinth,  at  Berlin,  at  Paris  ;  they 
bear  testimony  in  Oxfoi-d  and  in  Rome  itself  They  preach,  even  to  the 
ends  of  the  world,  the  remission  of  sins  and  the  conversion  of  the  soul  in 
the  name  of  the  Saviour;  they  announce  the  resurrection  of  the  crucified 
to  every  creature ;  they  loose  and  they  retain  sins  ;  they  lay  the  founda- 
tion of  the  house  of  God,  and  they  build  it ;  they  teach  the  missionaries 
and  the  ministers  of  the  gospel;  they  regulate  the  order  of  the  church, 
and  preside  in  synods  which  would  be  Christian.  They  do  all  this  by 
the  icritten  xcord  which  they  have  left  us;   or,  rather,  Christ — Christ 


128  J.    H.    MERLE     D'AUBIGNE. 

himself — docs  it,  by  that  word,  since  it  is  the  word  of  Christ,  rather  than 
the  word  of  Paul,  of  Peter,  or  of  James.  "  Go  ye,  therefore,  and  teach 
all  nations :  lo !  I  am  Avitli  you  always,  even  nnto  tlie  end  of  the  world." 

Without  doubt,  as  to  the  number  of  their  words,  the  apostles  spoke 
more  than  they  wrote  :  but  as  to  the  substance,  they  said  nothing  more 
than  what  they  have  left  us  in  their  divine  books.  And  if  they  had,  in 
substance,  taught  otherwise,  or  more  exj)licitly  than  they  did  by  their 
writings,  no  one  could  at  this  day  be  able  to  report  to  us,  with  assurance, 
even  one  syllable  of  these  instructions.  If  God  did  not  choose  to  pre- 
serve them  in  his  Bible,  no  one  could  come  to  his  aid,  and  do  what  God 
himself  would  not  wish  to  do,  and  what  he  would  not  have  done.  If,  in 
the  writings,  of  more  or  less  doubtful  authenticity,  of  the  companions  of 
the  apostles,  or  of  those  fathers  who  are  called  apostolical,  one  should 
find  any  doctrine  of  the  apostles,  it  would  be  necessary,  first  of  all,  to  put 
it  to  the  test,  in  comjjaring  it  with  the  certain  instructions  of  the  apos- 
tles, that  is,  with  the  canon  of  the  Scriptures. 

So  much  for  the  tradition  of  the  apostles.  Let  us  pass  on  from  the 
times  when  they  lived  to  those  which  succeeded.  Let  us  come  to  the 
tradition  of  the  divines  of  the  first  centuries.  That  tradition  is,  without 
doubt,  of  great  value  to  us  ;  but  by  the  very  fact  of  its  being  Presbyte- 
rian, Episcopal,  or  Synodical,  it  is  no  longer  apostolical.  And  let  ug 
suppose  (what  is  not  true),  that  it  does  not  contradict  itself;  and  let  us 
suppose  that  one  father  does  not  overthrow  what  another  father  has 
established  (as  is  often  the  case,  and  Abelai-d  has  proved  it  in  his  famous 
Avork  entitled  the  "  Sic  et  JVon'^) ;  let  us  suppose,  for  a  moment,  that  one 
might  reduce  the  tradition  of  the  fathers  of  the  church  to  a  harmony 
similar  to  that  which  the  apostolical  tradition  presents :  the  canon  which 
might  be  obtained  thus,  could  in  no  manner  be  placed  on  an  equality 
with  the  canon  of  the  apostles. 

Without  doubt,  we  acknowledge  that  the  declai*ations  of  Christian 
divines  merit  our  attention,  if  it  be  the  Holy  Spirit  which  speaks  in 
them — that  Spirit  which  is  ever  living  and  ever  acting  in  the  church. 
But  we  will  not — we  absolutely  will  not — allow  ourselves  to  be  bound 
by  that  which,  in  this  tradition,  and  in  these  divines,  is  only  the  work  of 
ma;i.  And  how  shall  we  distinguish  that  which  is  of  God  from  that 
which  is  of  men,  if  not  by  the  holy  Scriptures  ?  "It  remains,"  says  St. 
Augustine,  "that  I  judge  myself  according  to  this  only  Master,  from 
whose  judgment  I  desire  not  to  escape."  The  declarations  of  the  doc- 
tors of  the  church  are  only  the  testimonies  of  the  fixith  which  these 
emment  men  had  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Scriptures.  They  show  how 
these  divines  received  these  doctrines.  They  may,  without  doubt,  be 
instructive  and  edifying  for  us ;  but  there  is  no  authority  in  them  which 
binds  us.  All  the  divines — Greek,  Latin,  French,  Swiss,  German,  En- 
glish, American — placed  in  the  j^resence  of  the  word  of  God,  are  only 
disciples  who  are  receiving  instruction.    Men  of  primitive  days,  and  men 


TH.E     THREE     0XLY3.  129 

of  modern  times — we  are  all  alike  scholars  in  that  divine  school;  and  in 
the  chair  of  instruction,  around  which  we  arc  humbly  assembled,  notliini^ 
appears,  nothing  exalts  itself  but  the  infallible  word  of  God.  I  perceive 
in  that  vast  auditory,  Calvin,  Ijuther,  Cranmer,  Augustine,  Chrysostom, 
Athanasius,  Cyprian,  by  the  side  of  our  cotem.poraiics.  We  are  not 
"  disciples  of  Cyprian  and  Ignatius,"  as  the  doctors  of  Oxford  call  them- 
selves, but  of  Jesus  Christ.  "  We  do  not  despise  the  writings  of  the 
fiithcrs,"  we  say,  Avith  Calvin  ;  "  but  in  making  use  of  them,  we  remem- 
ber always,  that  'all  things  are  ours;'  that  they  ought  to  serve,  not 
govern  us,  and  that  '  we,  we  arc  Christ's,'  whom  in  all  things,  and  with- 
out exception,  it  behooves  us  to  obey.'" 

This  the  divines  of  the  first  centuries  are  themselves  the  first  to  say. 
They  claim  for  themselves  no  authority,  and  only  wish  that  the  word 
which  has  taught  them  may  teach  us  also,  "Now  that  I  am  old,"  says 
Augustine,  in  his  "  lietracHons,^^  "  I  do  not  expect  not  to  be  mistaken 
in  word,  or  to  be  perfect  in  word ;  how  much  less  when,  being  young,  1 
commenced  writing."  "  Beware,"  says  he  again,  "  of  submittino-  to  my 
w^-itings,  as  if  they  were  canonical  Sci'iptures."  "Do  not  esteem  as 
canonical  Scriptures  the  Avorks  of  catholic  and  justly  honored  men," 
says  he  elsewhere.  "  It  is  alloAved  for  us,  without  impeaching  the  honor 
Avhich  is  due  to  them,  to  reject  those  things  in  their  writings,  should  we 
find  such  in  them,  which  are  contrary  to  the  truth.  I  regard  the  AVTit- 
ings  of  others  as  I  Avould  have  others  regard  mine."  "  All  that  has  been 
said  since  the  times  of  the  apostles,  ought  to  be  disregarded,"  says 
Jerome,  "  and  can  possess  no  authority.  However  holy,  however 
learned,  a  man  may  be,  who  comes  after  the  apostles,  let  him  have  no 
authority." 

"  Neither  antiquity,  nor  custom,"  says  the  Confession  of  the  Reformed 
Church  of  France,  "  ought  to  be  arrayed  in  opposition  to  the  holy 
Scriptures ;  on  the  contrary,  all  things  ought  to  be  examined,  regulated, 
and  reformed  according  to  them."  And  the  Confession  of  the  English 
Church  even  says,  the  doctors  of  Oxford  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding : 
"The  holy  Scriptures  contain  all  that  is  necessary  to  salvation;  so  that 
all. that  is  not  found  in  them,  all  that  can  not  be  proved  by  them,  can  not 
be  required  of  any  one  as  an  article  of  faith,  or  as  necessary  to  salvation." 

Thus  the  evangelical  divines  of  our  times  give  the  hand  to  the  reform- 
ers, the  reformers  to  the  fathers,  the  fathers  to  the  apostles ;  and  thus, 
forming,  as  it  were,  a  golden  chain,  the  whole  church  of  all  ages,  and  of 
all  people,  sings  as  with  one  voice  to  the  God  of  Truth,  that  hymn  of 
one  of  our  greatest  poets : 

"  Speak  thou  unto  my  heart ;  and  lot  no  sage's  word, 
No  teacher,  theo  beside,  explain  to  me  thy  law ; 
Let  every  soul,  before  thy  holy  presence,  Lord, 
Bow  down  in  silent  awe, 
And  let  thy  voice  be  heard  1" 


130  J.    n.    MERLE     D'AUEIGNE. 

What,  then,  is  tradition?     It  is  the  testimony  of  history. 

There  is  a  historical  testimony  for  the  facts  of  Christian  history,  as 
'well  as  for  those  of  any  other  history.  We  admit  that  testimony;  only 
"we  would  discuss  it  and  examine  it,  as  we  would  all  other  testimony. 
The  heresy  of  Rome  and  of  Oxford — and  it  is  that  which  distinguishes 
them  from  us — consists  in  the  flict  that  they  attribute  the  same  infal- 
libility to  this  testunony  as  to  Scripture  itself. 

Although  we  receive  the  testimony  of  history  as  far  as  it  is  true,  as 
for  example,  when  it  relates  to  the  collection  of  the  writings  of  the  apos- 
tles; it  by  no  means  results  from  this,  that  we  should  receive  this  testi- 
mony on  subjects  Avhich  are  false,  as,  for  instance,  on  the  adoration  of 
Mary,  or  the  celibacy  of  the  priests.  The  Bible  is  the  faith — holy, 
authoritative,  and  truly  ancient — of  the  child  of  God..  Human  tradition 
springs  from  the  love  of  novelties,  and  is  the  faith  of  ignorance,  of  super- 
stition, and  of  a  credulous  puerility.  How  deplorable,  yet  instructive,  to 
see  the  doctors  of  a  church,  which  is  called  to  the  glorious  liberty  of  the 
children  of  God,  and  which  reposes  only  on  God  and  his  word,  place 
themselves  under  the  bondage  of  human  ordinances !  And  how  loudly 
does  that  example  cry  to  us:  "Stand  fast  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ 
has  made  us  free,  and  be  not  entangled  again  with  the  yoke  of  bondage." 

All  those  errors  which  we  are  combating  come  from  a  misunderstand- 
ing of  truths.  We,  too,  believe  in  the  attributes  of  the  church  of  which 
they  speak  so  much ;  but  we  believe  in  them  accordmg  to  the  meaning 
which  God  attaches  to  it,  and  our  opponents  believe  in  them  according 
to  that  Avhich  men  attach  to  it.  Yes,  tliere  is  one  holy  Catholic  church  ; 
but  it  is,  as  the  apostle  says,  "the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
fu'st-born,  whose  names  are  written  in  heaven."  Unity,  as  well  as  holi- 
ness, appertains  to  the  invisible  church.  It  behooves  us,  without  doubt, 
to  pray  that  the  ^-isible  church  should  advance  daily  in  the  possession  of 
these  heavenly  attributes ;  but  neither  rigorous  unity  nor  universal  holi- 
ness is  a  perfection  essential  to  its  existence,  or  a  sine  qua  non.  To  say 
that  the  visible  church  must  absolutely  be  composed  of  saints  only,  is 
the  error  of  the  Donatists  and  fanatics  of  all  ages.  So,  also,  to  say  that- 
the  visible  church  must  of  necessity  be  externally  one,  is  the  corres-  . 
ponding  error  of  Rome,  of  Oxford,  and  of  formalists  of  all  times.  Let 
us  guard  against  preferring  the  extei'nal  hierarchy,  which  consists  in 
certain  human  forms,  to  that  internal  hierarchy  which  is  the  kingdom 
of  God  itself  Let  us  not  suffer  the  form,  which  passes  away,  to  deter- 
mine the  essence  of  the  church ;  but  let  us,  on  the  contrary,  make  the 
essence  of  the  church,  to  wit,  the  Christian  life,  which  emanates  from 
the  word  and  Spirit  of  God,  change  and  renew  the  form.  The  form  has 
killed  the  substance.  Here  is  the  whole  history  of  the  Papacy  and  of 
false  Catholicism.  TJie  suhstajice  verifies  the  form.  Here  is  the  whole 
history  of  evangelical  Christianity  and  of  the  true  Catholic  church  of 
Jesus  Christ. 


THE     THREE     OXLTS.  131 

Yes,  I  admit  it ;  the  church  is  the  juclge  of  controversies — -judex  co)v- 
troi'crsiarum.  But  what  is  the  church  ?  It  is  not  the  clei-gy,  it  is  not 
the  coTuicils ;  still  less  is  it  the  Pope.  It  is  the  Christian  people  ;  it  is  the 
fliithtul.  "  Prove  all  things ;  hold  fast  that  which  is  good,"  is  said  to 
the  children  of  God,  and  not  to  some  assembly,  or  to  a  cei-tain  bishop  ; 
and  it  is  they  who  are  constituted,  on  the  part  of  God,  judges  of  con- 
trocersles.  If  animals  have  the  instinct  which  leads  them  not  to  eat  tliat 
which  is  injurious  to  them,  we  can  not  do  less  than  allow  to  the  Christian 
this  instinct,  or,  rather,  this  intelligence,  which  emanates  from  the  virtue 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Every  Christian  (the  word  of  God  declares  it)  is 
called  upon  to  reject  "every  spirit  that  confesses  not  that  Jesus  Clirist 
is  come  in  the  flesh."  And  this  is  what  is  essentially  meant  when  it  is 
said  that  the  church  is  the  judge  of  controversies. 

Yes,  I  believe  and  confess  that  there  is  an  authority  in  the  church, 
and  that  without  that  authority  the  church  can  not  stand.  But  Avhere 
is  it  to  be  found  ?  Is  it  with  him,  whoever  he  may  be,  who  has  the  external 
consecration,  whether  he  possess  theological  gifts  or  not,  whether  he  has 
received  grace  and  justification  or  not?  Rome  herself  does  not  yet 
Ijretend'that  orders  save  and  sanctify.  Must,  then,  the  children  of  God 
go,  in  many  cases,  to  ask  a  decision,  in  things  relating  to  faith,  of  the 
children  of  this  world  ?  What !  a  bishop,  from  the  moment  he  is  seated 
in  his  chaii",  although  he  may  be,  perhaps,  destitute  of  science,  destitute 
of  the  S})irit  of  God,  and  although  he  may,  perhaps,  have  the  world  and 
hell  in  his  heart,  as  had  Borgia  and  so  many  other  bishops,  shall  he  have 
authority  in  the  assembly  of  the  saints,  and  do  his  lips  possess  al- 
Avays  the  wisdom  and  the  truth  necessary  for  the  church  ?  No.  The 
idea  of  a  knowledge  of  God,  true,  but  at  the  same  time  destitute  of 
holiness,  is  a  gross  supernaturalism.  "  Sanctify  them  through  the 
truth,"  says  Jesus.  There  is  an  authority  in  the  church,  but  that 
authority  is  wholly  in  the  word  of  God.  It  is  not  a  man,  nor  a  minis- 
ter, nor  a  bishop,  descended  from  Gregory,  from  Chrysostom,  from 
Augustine,  or  from  Irenseus,  who  has  authority  over  the  soul.  It  is  not 
with  a  power  so  contemptible  as  that  which  comes  from  those  men  that 
we,  the  ministers  of  God,  go  forth  into  the  world.  It  is  elsewhere  than 
in  that  episcopal  succession,  that  we  seek  that  which  gives  authority  to 
our  ministry  and  validity  to  our  sacraments. 

Rejecting  these  deplorable  innovations,  we  appeal  from  them  to  the 
ancient,  sovereign,  and  divine  authority  of  the  word  of  the  Lord.  The 
question  which  we  would  ask  of  the  man  who  would  inform  himself 
concerning  eternal  things,  is  that  which  we  receive  from  Jesus  himself: 
"  What  is  written  in  the  law,  and  how  readest  thou  ?"  What  we  say 
to  rebellious  spirits  is  what  Abraham  said  from  heaven  to  the  rich  man  : 
"  You  have  Moses  and  the  prophets  ;  hear  them."  That  which  we  ask 
of  all  is  to  imitate  the  Bereans,  who  "  searched  the  Scriptures  daily, 
whether  these  things  were  so."     "  We  ought  to  obey  God  rather  than 


132  J.    H.    MP  RLE    D'AUBIGNE. 

men,"  even  the  most  excellent  of  men.  Behold  the  true  authority,  the 
true  hierarchy,  the  true  polity  !  The  churches  which  are  made  by  men 
possess  human  authoi-ity — this  is  natural — ^but  the  church  of  God  pos- 
sesses the  authority  of  God,  and  she  will  not  receive  it  from  othei'S. 
Such  is  the  ybr?rta^  principle  of  Christianity. 

II.  Let  us  come  now  to  its  material  principle,  that  is  to  say,  to  the 
body,  the  very  substance  of  religion.  We  have  announced  it  in  these 
terms :  The  Grace  of  Christ  only. 

"  Ye  are  saved  by  grace,  through  taith,"  says  the  Scripture,  "  and 
that  not  of  yourselves :  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  not  of  works,  lest  any  man 
should  boast." 

Evangelical  Christianity  not  only  seeks  complete  salvation  in  Christ, 
but  seeks  it  in  Christ  only  •  thus  excluding,  as  a  cause  of  salvation,  ail 
human  works,  all  merit,  all  co-operation  of  man  or  of  the  church. 
There  is  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  upon  which  Ave  can  build  the  hope 
of  our  salvation,  but  the  free  and  unmerited  grace  of  God,  which  is 
given  to  us  in  Christ,  and  communicated  to  us  hy  faith. 

Now,  this  second  great  foundation  of  evangeUcal  Christianity  is  like- 
wise overthi'own  by  the  modern  ecclesiastical  Catholicism.  The  school 
of  Oxford  pretends,  with  Rome  and  the  Council  of  Trent,  "  that  justifi- 
cation is  the  indwelling  in  us  of  God  the  Father  and  of  the  incarnate 
word,  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  that  the  two  acts,  distinguished  from  each 
other  by  the  Bible  and  our  theologians,  form  only  one."  What  then  ? 
1.  God  remits  to  the  sinner  the  penalty  of  sin;  he  absolves  him;  he 
pardons  hira.  2.  He  delivers  him  from  sin  itself;  he  renews  him  ;  he 
sanctifies  him. 

Are  not  these  two  different  things  ?  Would  not  the  pardon  of  sin, 
on  the  part  of  God,  be  just  nothing  at  all?  Would  it  not  be  simply 
an  image  of  sanctification  ?  Or  should  we  say  that  the  pardon  which  is 
granted  to  faith,  and  which  produces  in 'the  heart  the  sentiment  of  re- 
conciliation, of  adoption,  and  of  peace,  is  something  too  external  to  be 
taken  into  account  ? 

Such  is  the  grand  difference  between  us  and  the  Oxford  school.  We 
believe  in  sanctification  ihi'ow^  justification,  and  the  Oxford  school 
'believes  in  justification  through  sanctification.  With  %is  justification  is 
the  cause,  and  sanctification  is  the  effect.  With  these  doctors,  on  the 
contrary,  sanctification  is  the  cause,  and  justification  the  effect.  And 
these  are  not  things  indifferent,  and  vain  distinctions.  They  are  the  sic 
and  the  non  ;  the  yes  and  the  no.  While  our  creed  establishes  in  all 
their  rights  these  two  works,  the  creed  of  Oxford  compromises  and  an- 
nihilates them  both.  Justification  exists  no  moi-e,  if  it  depends  on  man's 
sanctification,  and  not  on  the  grace  of  God :  for  "  the  heavens,"  says 
the  Scripture,  "  are  not  clean  in  his  sight,"  "  and  his  eyes  are  too  pure 
to  behold  iniquity ;"  but,  on  the  other  hand,   sanctification  itself  can 


THE     THREE     ONLYS.  133 

not  be  accomplished;  for  how  could  >ou  expect  tlie  effect  to  be  pro- 
duced, when  you  begin  by  taking  away  the  cause  ?  "  Herein  is  love," 
says  St.  John,  "  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us  ;  we  love 
him,  because  he  first  loved  us."  If  I  might  use  a  vulgar  expression,  I 
should  say  that  Oxford  pw^s  the  cart  before  the  horse,  in  placing  sanc- 
tification  before  justification.  In  this  way  neither  the  cart  nor  the  horse 
will  advance.  In  order  that  the  work  should  go  on,  it  is  necessar}^  that 
that  which  draws  should  be  placed  before  that  which  is  drawn.  There 
is  not  a  system  more  contrary  to  true  sanctification  than  that ;  and,  to 
employ  the  language  of  the  British  Critic,  there  is  not,  consequently,  a 
system  more  monstrous  and  immoral.  What !  shall  your  justification 
depend,  not  upon  the  work  which  Christ  accomplished  on  the. cross,  but 
upon  that  which  is  accomplished  in  your  hearts  ?  Is  it,  not  to  Christ,  to 
his  grace,  that  you  ought  to  look  in  order  to  be  justified,  but  to  your- 
selves, to  the  righteousness  Avhich  is  in  you,  to  your  spiritual  gifts  ? 

From  this,  result  two  great  evils.'  Either  you  will  deceive  yourselves, 
in  believing  that  there  is  a  work  in  you  sufficiently  good  to  justify  you 
before  God ;  and  then  you  will  be  inflated  with  pride,  that  pride  Avhich 
the  Scriptures  say  "  goeth  before  a  fall ;"  or  you  will  not  deceive  your- 
selves ;  you  will  see,  as  the  Saviour  says,  that  you  are  poor,  and  wretched, 
and  blind,  and  naked  ;  and  then  you  wUl  fall  into  despair.  The  heights 
of  pride,  and  the  depths  of  depair  ;  such  are  the  alternatives  which  the 
doctrine  of  Oxford  and  of  Kome  bequeaths  to  us. 

Tine  Christian  docti'ino,  on  the  contrary,  places  man  in  perfect  humil- 
ity, for  it  is  another  who  justifies  him ;  and  yet  it  gives  him  abundant 
peace,  for  his  justification — a  fruit  of  the  "righteousness  of  God" — is 
complete,  assured,  eternal. 

III.  Finally,  we  define  the  ^^ersoJia?  or  moj'a?  principle  of  Christianity 
We  have  announced  it  in  these  words,  the  Work  of  the  Spirit  oxly. 

Christianity  is  an  individual  work  ;  the  grace  of  God  converts  soul  by 
soul.  Each  soul  is  a  world,  in  which  a  creation  peculiar  to  itself  must 
be  accomplished.  The  church  is  but  the  assembly  of  all  the  souls  in 
whom  this  work  is  wrought,  and  who  are  now  united  because  they  have 
but  "  one  Spirit,  one  Lord,  one  Father," 

And  what  is  the  nature  of  this  work  ?  It  is  essentially  moral,  Chris- 
tianity operates  upon  the  will  of  man  and  changes  it.  Conversion  comes 
Irom  the  action  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  not  from  the  magic  action  of 
certain  ceremonies,  which,  rendering  faith  on  the  part  of  man  vain  and 
useless,  would  regenerate  him  by  their  own  inherent  virtue,  "  In  Christ 
Jesus  neither  circumcision  availeth  any  thing,  nor  nncircumcision,  but 
[to  be]  a  new  creature  ;"  "  If  through  the  Spirit  ye  do  mortify  the  deeds 
of  the  body,  ye  shall  live." 

Xow,  the  Oxford  divines,  although  there  is  a  great  difference  among 
tlicm  on  this  point,  as  well  as  some  others  (going  by  no  means  as  far  as 


134  J-    H.    MERLE     D'AUEIGNE. 

others),  put  immense  obstacles  in  the  way  of  this  individual  regeneration. 
Xothing  ins2)ires  them  with  greater  repugnance  than  Christian  individu- 
alism. They  proceed  by  synthesis,  not  by  analysis.  They  do  not  set  out 
with  the  principle  laid  dcwn  by  the  Saviour:  "Except  a'^man  be  born 
again,  he  can  not  see  the  kingdom  God  ;"  but  they  set  out  ^\dth  the  op 
posite  principle :  "  All  those  who  have  paiticipated  in  the  ordinances  of 
the  church  are  born  again."  And  while  the  Saviour,  in  all  his  discoursps, 
excites  the  efforts  of  each  individual,  saying,  "  Seek,  ask,  knock, 
strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate :  it  is  only  the  violent  who  take  it 
by  force;"  the  Oxford  divines  say,  on  the  contrary,  "The  idea  of  obtain- 
mg  religious  truth  ourselves,  and  by  our  private  inquiry,  whether  by 
reading,  or  by  thinking,  or  by  studying  the  Scriptures,  or  other  books ; 
...  is  no  where  authorized  in  the  Scriptures.  The  great  question  which 
ought  to  be  placed  before  every  mind,  is  this :  '  What  voice  should  be 
heard  like  that  of  the  holy  Catholic  and  Apostolic  church  ?'  "* 

And  how  shall  this  individual  regeneration  by  the  Holy  Spirit  be 
accomplished,  since  the  first  task  of  Puseyism  is  to  say  to  all,  that  it  is 
already  accomplished;  that  all  who  have  been  baptized  have  thereby 
been  rendered  ijartakers  of  the  divine  nature  ;  and  that  to  preach  con- 
version again  to  them  is  contrary  to  the  truth  ?  "  It  is  baptism  and  not 
faith,"  says  one  of  these  divines,  "  that  is  the  primary  instrument  of  jus- 
tification ;"f  and  we  know  that  with  them  justification  and  conversion 
are  one  and  the  same  work.  To  prevent  the  wretched  from  escaping 
from  the  miserable  state  in  which  they  are,  would  not  the  best  means  be 
to  persuade  a  poor  man  that  he  possesses  a  large  fortune,  or  an  ignorant 
man  that  he  has  great  science,  or  a  sick  man  that  he  has  perfect  health  ? 
The  evil  one  could  not  invent  a  stratagem  more  fit  to  prevent  conversion 
than  this  idea,  that  all  men  who  have  been  baptized  by  water  are  regen- 
erated. 

Still  more,  these  doctors  extend  to  the  holy  supper  this  same  magic 
virtue.  "  It  is  now  almost  universaUy  believed,"  say  they,  in  speaking 
of  their  church,  "  that  God  communicates  grace  only  through  faith, 
prayer,  spiritual  contemplation,  communion  with  God :  while  it  is  the 
church  and  her  sacraments  which  are  the  ordained,  direct,  visible  means 
for  conveying  to  the  soul  that  which  is  invisible  and  supernatural.  It  is 
said,  for  example,  that  to  administer  the  supper  to  infants,  to  dying  per- 
sons apparently  deprived  of  their  senses,  however  pious  they  may  have 
been,  is  a  superstition ;  and  yet  these  practices  are  sanctioned  by 
authority.  The  essence  of  the  sectarian  doctrine  is  to  consider /ajYA,  and 
not  the  sacraments,  as  the  means  of  justification  and  other  evangelical 

gifts.": 

What  then  ?  Shall  a  child  who  does  not  possess  reason,  and  does  not 
even  know  how  to  speak ;  shall  a  sick  man  whom  the  aj)proach  of  death 

*  British  Critic.  f  Newman,  on  Justification. 

X  Tracts  for  the  Times.     Advertisoment  in  Vol.  ii. 


THE     TIIEEE     ONLYS.  135 

has  deprived  of  perception  and  intelligence,  receive  grace  purely  by  ex- 
ternal application  of  tlie  sacraments?  Have  the  will,  the  aifections  of  the 
heart,  no  need  to  be  touched  in  order  that  man  may  be  sanctified  ?  What 
a  degradation  of  man,  and  of  the  rehgion  of  Jesus  Christ !  Is  there  a 
great  difference  between  such  ceremonies  and  the  mummeries  and  charms 
of  the  debased  Hindoos,  or  of  the  African  savages  ! 

If  the  first  error  of  Oxford  deprives  the  church  of  light,  if  the  second 
deprives  her  of  salvation,  the  third  deprives  her  of  all  rc-al  sanctificatiou. 
Without  doubt,  we  believe  that  the  sacraments  are  means  of  grace  ;  but 
they  are  only  so  when  faith  accompanies  their  use.  To  put  faith  and  the 
sacraments  in  opposition,  as  the  Oxford  doctors  do,  is  to  annihilate  the 
cfiicacy  of  the  sacraments  themselves. 

The  church  will  rise  up  against  such  fiital  errors.  There  is  a  work 
of  renovation  Avhich  must  be  wrought  in  man,  a  personal  or  individual 
work  ;  and  it  is  God  who  performs  it.  "A  new  heart,"  saith  the  Lord, 
"  will  I  give  you,  and  a  new  spirit  will  I  put  within  you."  By  what  right 
would  they  thus  put  the  church  in  the  place  of  God,  and  establish  her 
clergy  as  the  dispensers  of  divine  life  ?  *     *     * 

I  repeat  again,  in  closing,  the  three  great  principles  of  Christianity  are 
these  :  Tim  word  of  God  oxly  ;  T/te  grace  of  God  o^jlt  ;  The  toork  of 
the  Spirit  oxly. 

I  come  now  to  ask  you  henceforth  to  apply  to  yourselves  more  and 
more  these  principles,  and  let  them  reign  supremely  over  your  hearts 
and  lives. 

And  Avhy  ?  Because  every  thing  that  places  our  souls  in  immediate 
communication  with  God  is  salutary,  and  every  thing  that  mterposes  be- 
tween God  and  our  souls  is  injurious  and  ruinous.  If  a  thick  cloud 
should  pass  between  you  and  the  sun,  you  would  no  longer  feel  its  genial 
wai-mth,  and  might,  perhaps,  be  seized  with  a  chill.  So  if  you  place  be- 
tween yourselves  and  the  word  of  God  the  tradition  and  authority  of  the 
church,  you  will  no  longer  have  to  do  Avith  the  word  of  God,  that  is  to 
say,  with  a  divine,  and,  consequently,  a  powerful  and  perfect  instrument, 
but  with  the  word  of  man ;  that  is  to  say,  with  a  human,  and,  conse- 
quently, a  weak  and  defective  instrument ;  it  will  have  lost  that  power 
which  translates  from  darkness  to  light. 

Or,  if  you  place  before  the  grace  of  God  and  yourselves  the  ordinances 
of  the  church,  the  episcopal  priesthood,  the  dispositions  of  the  heart, 
works,  f/race  loill  then  he  no  more  grace^  as  St.  Paul  says.  The  instru- 
ment of  God  will  have  been  broken,  and  we  shall  no  longer  be  able  to 
say,  that  "  charity  proceeds  from  faith  unfeigned,"  that  "  faith  worketh 
by  love,"  "  that  our  souls  are  purified  in  obeying  the  truth,"  "  that  Christ 
dwells  in  our  hearts  by  faith." 

INTan  always  seeks  to  return,  in  some  v>'ay  or  other,  to  a  human  salva- 
tion ;  this  is  the  source  of  the  innovations  of  Rome  and  of  Oxford.  The 
substitution  of  the  church  for  Jesus  Christ,  is  that  which  essentially  char- 


136  J.    n.    MERLE    D'AUBIGNE. 

acterizes  these  opinions.  It  is  no  longer  Christ  who  enlightens,  Christ 
who  saves,  Christ  who  forgives,  Christ  who  comtuands,  Christ  who  judges ; 
it  is  the  church,  and  always  the  church,  that  is  to  say,  an  assembly  of 
sinful  men,  as  weak  and  pi-one  to  err  as  ourselves.  "  They  have  taken  away 
the  Lord,  and  we  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him."     *     *     * 

There  are  two  ways  of  destroying  Christianity:  one  is  to  deny  it,  the 
other  to  displace  it.  To  put  the  church  above  Christianity,  the  hierarchy 
above  the  word  of  God ;  to  ask  a  man,  not  whether  he  has  received  the 
Holy  Ghost,  but  whether  he  has  received  bai^tism '  from  the  hands  of 
those  who  are  termed  successors  of  the  apostles  and  their  delegates  ;  all 
this  may  doubtless  flatter  the  pride  of  the  natural  man,  but  is  funda- 
mentally opposed  to  the  Bible,  and  aims  a  fatal  blow  at  the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ.  If  God  had  intended  that  Christianity  should,  like  the 
Mosaic  system,  be  chiefly  an  ecclesiastical,  sacerdotal,  and  hierarchical 
system,  he  would  have  ordered  and  established  it  in  the  ISTew  Tes- 
tament, as  he  did  in  the  Old.  But  there  is  nothing  like  this  in  the  ISTew 
Testament.  All  the  declarations  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  apostles  tend  to 
prove  that  the  new  religion  given  to  the  world,  is  "  life  and  spirit,"  and 
not  a  new  system  of  priesthood  and  ordinances.  "  The  kingdom  of  God," 
snith  Jesus,  "  coraeth  not  with  observation  ;  neither  shall  they  say,  '  Lo, 
here  !'  or,  '  Lo  there !'  for  behold,  the  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you." 
"  The  kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink ;  but  righteousness,  and 
peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost." 

Let  us,  then,  attribute  a  divine  institution  and  a  divine  authoiity  to 
the  essence  of  the  church,  but  by  no  means  to  its  form.  God  has  un- 
doubtedly established  the  ministry  of  the  word  and  sacraments,  that  ia 
to  say,  general  forms,  which  are  adapted  to  the  universal  church  ;  but  it 
is  a  narrow  and  dangerous  bigotry  which  would  attribute  more  import- 
ance to  the  particular  forms  of  each  sect  than  to  the  spint  of  Christianity. 
This  evil  has  long  prevailed  in  the  Eastern  Church  (Greek),  and  has  ren- 
dered it  barren.  It  is  the  essence  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  it  is  de- 
stroying it.  It  is  endeavoring  to  insinuate  itself  into  every  church  ;  it 
appears  in  England  in  the  Established  Church  ;  in  Germany  in  the  Lu- 
theran, and  even  in  the  Reformed  and  Presbyterian  Church.  It  is  that 
mystery  of  iniquity  which  already  began  to  work  in  the  time  of  the  apos- 
tles. Let  us  reject  and  oppose  this  deadly  principle  wherever  it  is  found. 
We  are  men  before  we  are  Swiss,  French,  English,  or  German ;  let  us 
also  remember  that  we  are  also  Christians  befoi-e  Ave  ai-e  Episcopalians, 
Lutherans,  Reformed,  or  Dissenters.  These  different  forms  of  the  church 
are  like  the  different  costumes,  different  features,  and  different  characters 
of  nations  ;  that  which  constitutes  the  man  is  not  found  in  these  accesso- 
ries. We  must  seek  for  it  in  the  heai-t  which  beats  under  this  exterior, 
in  the  conscience  which  is  seated  there,  in  the  intelligence  which  shines 
there,  in  the  will  which  acts  there.  If  we  assign  more  importance  to  the 
church  than  to  Christianity,  to  the  form  than  to  the  life,  we  shall  infallibly 


THE     THREE     OXLYS.  137 

reap  that  which  we  nave  sowii ;  wo  shall  soon  have  a  church  comj)osecl 
of  skeletons,  clothed,  it  may  be,  in  brilliant  garments,  and  rang-ed,  I  ad- 
mit, in  a  most  imposing  order  to  the  eye,  but  as  cold,  stiff,  and  immov- 
able as  a  pale  legion  of  the  dead.  If  Puseyism  (and,  nnfortunately,  some 
of  the  doctrines  which  it  promulgates  are  not,  in  England,  conHned  to 
that  school),  if  Puseyism  should  make  progress  hi  the  Established  Church, 
it  will,  in  a  few  years,  dry  up  all  its  springs  of  life.  The  feverish  excitement 
which  disease  at  first  produces,  will  soon  give  place  to  languor;  the 
blood  will  be  congealed,  the  muscles  stiffened,  and  that  church  will  be 
only  a  dead  body,  around  which  the  eagles  will  gather  together. 

All  forms,  whether  papal,  patriarchal,  episcopal,  consistorial,  or  pres- 
byterian,  possess  only  a  human  value  and  authority.  Let  us  not  esteem 
the  bark  above  the  sap,  the  body  above  the  soul,  the  form  above  the  life, 
the  visible  church  above  the  invisible,  the  priest  above  the  Holy  Spirit. 
Let  us  hate  aU  sectarian,  ecclesiastical,  national,  or  dissenting  spirit ;  but 
let  us  love  Jesus  Christ  in  all  sects,  whether  ecclesiastical,  national,  or 
dissenting.  The  true  catholicity  which  we  have  lost,  and  which  we  must 
seek  to  recover,  is  that  of  "  holding  the  truth  in  love."  A  renovation  of 
the  church  is  necessary ;  I  know  it ;  I  feel  it ;  I  pray  for  it  from  the  bot- 
tom of  my  soul ;  only  let  us  seek  for  it  in  the  right  way.  Forms,  eccle- 
siastical constitutions,  the  organization  of  churches,  are  important,  very 
important.  "  But  let  us  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteous- 
ness, and  all  these  things  will  be  added  unto  us." 

Let  us  then,  be  firm  and  decided  in  the  truth  ;  and  while  we  love  the 
erring,  let  us  boldly  attack  the  error.  Let  us  stand  upon  the  Rock  of 
ages — the  word  of  God  ;  and  let  the  vain  opinions  and  state  innovations 
which  are  constantly  springing  up  and  dying  in  the  world,  break  pow- 
erless at  our  feet.  "  Two  systems  of  doctrine,"  says  Dr.  Pusey,  "  are 
now,  and'probably  for  the  last  time,  in  conflict :  the  system  of  Geneva, 
and  the  Catholic  system."  We  accept  this  definition.  One  of  the  men 
who  have  most  powerfully  resisted  these  errors,  the  Rev.  W.  Goode, 
seems  to  think  that  by  the  Genevan  system.  Dr.  Pusey  intends  to  desig- 
nate the  Unitarian,  Pelagian,  Latitudinarian  system,  which  has  laid  waste 
the  church,  not  only  in  Geneva,  but  throughout  Christendom.  "  Ac- 
cording to  Romish  tactics,"  says  Mr.  Goode,  "  the  adversaries  of  the 
Oxford  school  are  classed  together  under  the  name  that  will  render  them 
most  odious ;  they  belong,  it  is  said,  to  the  Genevan  school. 

Certainly,  if  the  Unitarian  school  of  England  and  Geneva  were  called 
upon  to  struggle  with  the  semi-papal  school  of  Oxford,  we  should  much 
fear  the  issue.  But  these  divines  will  meet  with  other  opponents  in 
England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  on  the  continent,  and,  if  need  be,  even  in  our 
little  and  humble  Geneva.  Yes,  Ave  acknowledge  that  it  is  the  system 
of  Geneva  Avhich  is  now  struggling  with  the  Catholic  system ;  but  it  is 
the  system  of  ancient  Geneva ;  it  is  the  system  of  Calvin  and  Bcza,  the 
system  of  the  gospel  and  the  Reformation.     The  opprobrium  they  would 


133  J-    H.    MERLE     D'AUBIGNE. 

cast  upon  us  we  receive  as  an  honor.  Three  centui-ies  ago,  Geneva  arose 
against  Rome ;  let  Geneva  now  rise  against  Oxford.  "  I  should  like,'- 
said  one  of  the  Oxford  divines,  "  to  see  the  Patriarch  of  Constantinople 
and  our  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  go  barefoot  to  Rome,  throw  their 
arms  round  the  Pope,  kiss  him,  and  not  let  him  go  till  they  had  per- 
suaded him  to  be  more  reasonable;"  that  is  to  say,  doubtless,  until  he  had 
extended  his  hand  to  them,  and  ceased  to  proclaim  them  heretics  and 
schismatics. 

Evangelical  Christians  of  Geneva,  England,  and  all  other  countries!  It 
is  not  to  Rome  that  you  must  drag  yourselves,  "  to  those  seven  moun- 
tains, on  which  the  woman  sitteth,  having  a  golden  cup  in  her  hand,  full 
of  abominiitions ;"  the  pilgrimage  that  you  must  make  is  to  that  excel- 
lent and  perfect  tabernacle  "  not  made  with  hands ;"  that  "  throne  of 
grace,  where  we  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need."  It  is  not  upon  the 
neck  of  the  "  man  of  sin"  that  you  must  cast  yourselves,  covering  him 
with  your  kisses  and  your  tears  ;  but  upon  the  neck  of  him  with  whom 
"  Jacob  wrestled,  until  the  breaking  of  the  day  ;"  of  him  "  who  is  seated 
at  the  right  hand  of  God,  in  the  heavenly  places,  far  above  all  i^rinci- 
pality,  and  power,  and  every  name  that  is  named,  not  only  in  this  world, 
but  also  in  that  which  is  to  come." 

Yes,  let  the  children  of  God  in  the  east  and  in  the  west  arise ;  let 
them,  understanding  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  seeing  that  the  destinies 
of  the  church  depend  upon  the  issue  of  the  present  conflicts,  conflicts  so 
numerous,  so  different,  and  so  powerful,  form  a  sacred  brotherhood,  and 
with  one  heart  and  one  soul,  exclaim,  as  Moses  did  when  the  ark  set 
forward,  "  Rise  up.  Lord,  and  let  thine  enemies  be  scattered,  and  let 
them  that  hate  thee  flee  before  thee." 


DISCOURSE    II. 

S.    R.    L.    GAUSSEN,    D.D. 

Dr.  Gaussen  is  Professor  of  Systematic  Tlieology,  iu  connection  witli  Dr.  M(;rle 
D'Aubigne,  in  the  Evangelical  School  at  Geneva.  He  is  a  native  either  of  the 
Canton  or  of  the  city  of  Geneva,  and  about  sixty  years  of  age.  Educated  in  his 
native  city,  he  was  first  settled  as  pastor  in  the  beautiful  rural  parish  of  Santigny. 
This  was  about  the  year  1815,  when  few  of  the  pastors  belonging  to  the  Canton 
were  decidedly  evangelical  in  their  views.  It  was  during  his  connection  with  this 
church,  according  to  his  own  account,  that  he  first  became  a  true  Christian.  He 
preached  with  great  simplicity  and  earnestness,  and  his  flock  looked  up  to  him  with 
much  reverence  and  affection.  In  his  teachings  among  his  parishioners,  he  became 
dissatisfied  with  the  catechism  imposed  for  instruction  by  the  national  church, 
chiefly  because  it  contained  no  recognition  of  the  fundamental  doctrines  of  the  gos- 
pel. On  this  account,  he  laid  it  aside,  and  began  to  teach  the  children  and  candi- 
dates for  communion  in  his  own  way,  using  for  a  text-book  notliing  but  the  sacred 
Scriptures.  For  this  he  was  arraigned  before  the  "  Venerable  Company  of  Pastors," 
by  whom  he  was  censured,  and  finally  suspended,  for  a  year,  from  his  right  to  sit  in 
the  Company. 

But  Gaussen,  D'Aubigne  and  others,  "  in  nothing  terrified  by  their  adversaries," 
proceeded  yet  further,  and  formed  the  Evangelical  Society  of  Geneva,  established  a 
new  theological  seminary,  and  took  measures  to  preach  the  gospel  in  the  city  of 
Geneva.  In  consequence  of  this,  Mr.  Gaussen  was  ejected  by  the  Company  of 
Pastors  from  the  church  of  Santigny,  and  forbidden  to  exercise  the  functions  of  the 
ministry  in  any  of  the  churches  or  chapels  of  the  Canton.  A  similar  interdict  was 
laid  upon  the  ministry  of  Merle  D'Aubigne,  Galland,  and  others.  But  these  noble 
and  self-denying  men  rejoiced  in  their  freedom,  went  forward  with  their  plans,  and 
to-day  are  rejoicing  in  the  progress  of  truth  and  hberty,  not  only  in  Geneva,  but 
througliout  the  world. 

Dr.  Gaussen  not  only  performs  the  duties  of  liis  professorship,  but  officiates  as 
pastor  at  "  The  Oratoire."  Deeply  interested  in  the  young,  and  possessing  peculiar 
tact  in  addressing  them,  he  has  taken  the  children  and  youth  connected  v/ith  the 
church  in  "  The  Oratoire"  under  his  special  care ;  and  every  Sabbath,  at  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  conducts  a  catechetical  exerci.'^e,  for  their  benefit.  This  ex- 
ercise is  attractive,  not  only  to  the  young,  but  to  their  parents  and  others,  being 
frequently  attended  by  citizens  and  strangers. 

Some  particulars  as  to  personal  appearance,  etc.,  are  thus  given  by  Dr.  Turn- 
bull  :*  "  In  stature  he  is  rather  short,  and  slightly  made,  and  possesses  much  dignity 

*  See  "  Pulpit  Orators  of  Franco  and  Switzerland;"  to  whicJi  wo  are  largely  indebted  in 
the  preparation  of  this  sketch. 


140  i^-    R-    L.    GAUSSEN. 

and  urbanity  of  manners.  His  countenance  is  expressive  of  great  amiableness  and 
refinement  of  character.  He  is  justly  esteemed  for  his  fine  Hterary  attainments 
and  his  profound,  but  radiant  and  cheerful  piety.  No  one  combines  in  a  higher 
degree  manly  energy  with  delicacy  and  fervor  of  feeling.  He  is  a  great  lover  of 
nature,  and  lives  in  a  charming  rural  retreat,  just  beyond  the  city  walls,  and  on  tlie 
way  tc  Ferney,  the  former  residence  of  Voltaire,  commanding  a  magnificent  view 
of  the  Alps,  and  the  surrounding  scenery."  Dr.  Cheever,  who  knows  him  well, 
says,  "  His  countenance  is  full  of  life,  frankness,  and  intelligence.  There  is  a  pleas- 
ing combination  of  energy  and  suavity  in  his  manners,  indicating,  perhaps,  the 
characteristics  of  his  mind ;  for  he  is  a  man  of  learning  in  action,  and  of  solid 
accomplishments  gracefully  employed.  His  style  is  admirable  for  its  united  richness 
and  vivacity.  There  is  the  same  interest  and  life  in  his  conversation  as  in  his  writ- 
ings, with  the  great  charm  of  a  simplicity  and  friendhness  of  character  as  open,  as 
the  sun,  and  a  most  attractive  warmth  and  enthusiasm  of  Christian  thought  and 
feeling.  His  mind  kindles  and  glows,  especially  on  the  preciousness  of  the  word  of 
Grod,  the  advancing  kingdom  of  the  Redeemer,  and  the  nature  of  the  enmity  wlrich 
the  church  of  Christ  in  Europe  must  now  encounter." 

The  work  of  Dr.  Gaussen,  which  has  gained  for  him  his  principal  reputation  as 
an  author,  is  a  very  ingenious  and  able  treatise  on  "  The  Inspiration  of  the  Bible.'* 
He  has  also  published  one  or  two  volumes  of  discourses.  These  have  been  widely 
circulated  by  the  Society  for  publishing  Christian  books,  stationed  at  Toulouse,  in 
France.  They  abound  in  fine  thoughts  and  lively  appeals.  The  style  of  Gaussen  is 
easy  and  flowing,  much  resembling  that  of  Fenelon — rather  diffuse  and  redundant, 
but  sparkling  with  a  quiet  beauty,  and  often  rising  to  a  high  degree  of  eloquence. 

We  have  met  with  no  discourse  that  gives  a  fairer  idea  of  Dr.  Gaussen's  preach- 
ing than  the  one  published  below.  It  is  translated  from  his  "  Ten  Sermons,'' 
printed  at  Toulouse  in  1842.     A  single  local  allusion  at  the  close  is  omitted. 


THE    FALL    OF    CHARLES    THE    TENTH.=^ 

"  Behold,  I  come  quickly  ;  hold  that  fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  tby  crown." — 
Rev.,  iii.  11 

One  of  the  greatest  events  of  history  has  just  happened  in  our 
sight.  It  shakes  Europe ;  it  astonishes  the  woi-Id  ;  and  the  fame  of  it 
will,  for  a  long  time,  resound  to  the  extremities  of  the  earth.  The  de- 
scendant of  forty  kings,  the  poAverful  monarch  of  France,  who,  but 
within  the  past  week,  was  seated  upon  his  throne  in  all  the  greatness 
of  his  power,  has  in  the  space  of  four  days  been  overthrown,  and  three 
generations  of  kings,  with  hira  fallen  from  this  ancient  seat,  haA^e  also 
lost  their  crown.  It  is  on  this  occasion  that  I  would  have  you  listen  to 
the  words  of  the  King  of  kings :  "  Behold,  I  come  quickly ;  hold  that 
fast  which  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy  crown." 

God  grant  that  no  minister  of  the  gospel  should,  in  this  pulpit,  turn 
*  Preached  on  the  Sunday  which  followed  this  event. 


THE     FALL     OF     CHARLES    X.  141 

away  religious  thought  to  occupy  your  attention  with  the  politics  of 
nations,  and  present  a  dangerous  aliment  to  the  passions,  or  even  to  the 
curiosity,  of  those  Avho  listen  to  him.  I  have  graver  interests  to  recall 
to  you,  my  brethren.  I  have  things  much  greater  and  more  enduring 
to  say  to  you  in  this  temple  ;  and  since  the  Christian  should  make  it  his 
constant  study  to  apply  all  the  events  of  this  life  to  the  teachings  of  the 
divine  Avord,  and  the  condition  of  his  soul  before  God,  it  has  seemed  to 
me  that,  without  pretending  here  to  judge  either  of  people  or  of  kings, 
we  may  draw  useful  reflections  from  so  great  a  catastrophe.  The  h.and 
of  God,  in  this,  appears  so  manifest,  that  one  may  now  say,  as  in  the 
revolt  of  the  ten  tribes  against  Rehoboam  :  "  This  thing  is  done  of  me," 
said  the  Lord  ;  and  I  have  thought  that  if  the  unexpected  fall  of  a  gi-eat 
piince  may  be  a  lesson  for  kings,  it  may  also  be  a  lesson  for  each  one  of 
us.  It  cries  to  all,  in  the  exhortation  of  my  text :  A^d  thou  also,  hold 
that  fast  lohich  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take,  thy  crown. 

This  monarch  has  fallen  by  a  fault,  which  some  would  call  imprudence-, 
others  unfaithfulness ;  but  thou,  O  my  soul !  wdiile  thou  reignest,  T 
would  say,  while  thou  dost  pass  through  this  short  life,  take  care  that 
by  thy  imprudence  and  unfaithfulness  thou  dost  not  lose  "  thy  crovrn." 

Tlius,  by  very  simple  reflections,  I  Avill  apply  to  you  the  text  selected 
for  this  day,  in  connection  with  the  great  event  which,  doubtless,  stiil 
occupies  the  thoughts  of  most  of  you. 

I  will  recall  to  you  : 

First.  That  you,  also,  have  a  crown  either  to  acquire  or  to  preserve  : 
"  Take  care  that  no  man  take  from  thee  thy  crown." 

Second.  That  you,  also,  have  received  recent  and  numerous  warnings 
to  avoid  so  great  an  evil :  "  Behold,  I  come  quickly ;  hold  that  fast 
which  thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy  crown." 

Third.  That  you  also  have  an  appointed  time,  a  time  of  trial,  a  time 
given  that  your  name  may  be  honorably  recorded  upon  the  pages  of 
that  history  which  is  being  written  in  heaven  ;  but  the  time  is  shoit : 
"  Behold,"  says  the  Lord,  "  behold,  I  come  quickly." 

Fourth.  Finally,  that  you,  also,  to  obtain  this,  have  something  to  do  : 
"  Hold  that  fast  which  thou  hast." 

In  a  word,  ray  brethren,  may  the  subjects  of  conversation,  which,  for 
eight  days,  have  occupied  every  mind,  bring  to  you  useful  and  holy 
thoughts  !  May  politics  recall  you  to  t!ie  gospel ;  the  movements  of  the 
present  time  to  the  repose  of  eternity  ;  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth  to 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;  and  the  fall  of  a  powerful  monarch  to  the  fall, 
much  more  dreadful,  of  a  soul  cast  into  the  pit  of  despair — to  the  solemn 
remembrance  of  your  relation  to  God,  of  your  rapid  course  toward  the 
invisible  world,  and  of  the  great  end  of  your  existence  ! 

Oh,  my  God !  we  ask  thine  assistance  upon  these  Avarnings  of  thy 
word  and  thy  providence,  that  their  double  lesson  may  this  day  be 
blessed  to  each  of  us. 


1J:2  S.    R.    L.    GAUSSEN. 

I  will  then  commence  by  recalling  to  the  minds  of  all  who  hear  me 
tlie  solemn  truth,  that  Jesus  Christ  having  come"  into  the  world  to  gain 
for  us  the  croion  of  life,  it  is  the  duty  of  each  one  of  you,  either  to 
ohtaiu  it  or  to  preserve  it ;  and,  in  view  of  this,  I  address  to  every  one 
the  exhortation  of  the  Lord  :  "  Oil,  let  no  man  take  from  thee  thy  crown  !" 

A  crown,  you  know,  is  the  emblem  of  peace  and  joy,  of  happiness  and 
glory.  .  Now,  I  am  charged  by  the  word  of  God  to  announce  to  you 
here,  from  the  King  of  kings,  the  good  news  of  peace  and  joy,  of  hap- 
piness and  glory.  This  is  the  'gospel.  As  long  as  my  ministry  among 
you  shall  endure,  it  will  be  my  task,  as  well  as  my  happiness,  to  repeat 
to  you,  as  often  as  I  enter  this  pulpit,  that  though  in  yourselves  you  are 
destitute  of  the  favor  of  God,  deprived  of  his  glory,  removed,  and 
justly  removed,  far  from  him,  by  reason  of  your  transgressions,  and  the 
alienation  from  holiness  which  manifests  itself  naturally  in  every  heart ; 
notwithstanding  all  this,  "  God  has  so  loved  the  world,  that  he  has 
given  his  only  Son,  so  that  he  might  save  by  grace,  through  faith,  all 
those  who  believe  on  him  ;  that  they  shall  not  perish,  but  have  eternal 
life  :"  "  For  there  remaiaeth  a  rest  to  the  people  of  God  ;  and  it  is  thus, 
through  his  great  mercy,  God  regenerates  his  elect,  in  the  lively  hope 
of  obtaining,  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ,  an  inheritance  incor- 
ruptible, undefiled,  and  thatfadeth  not  away,  reserved  for  them  in  heaven," 

Then  shall  he  dwell  with  them ;  they  shall  be  his  people  and  he  will 
be  their  God.  He  will  console  them  with  his  powerful  hand;  he  will 
wipe  away  all  tears,  from  their  eyes  ;  death  shall  be  destroyed,  and  there 
shall  be  no  more  mourning,  nor  crying,  nor  labor ;  for  the  former  things 
shall  have  passed  away,  and  eternal  joy  shall  rest  upon  their  heads. 

Such  is  the  crown  spoken  of  in  our  text ;  the  crown  which  we  must 
gain — which,  at  whatever  price,  we  must  keep  ;  the  crown  Avhich  the 
Scripture  calls  a  crown  of  righteousness,  "  a  crown  incorruptible,"  "  a 
crown  of  glory,"  "a  cro'WTi  of  life." 

It  is  then  righteousness,  life,  glory,  reconciliation  with  God  ;  it  is  the 
help  of  God ;  it  is  happiness ;  it  is  everlasting  consolation  ;  it  is  joy  eter- 
nal in  the  heavens. 

And  this  cro^ai  is  offered  to  all  who  now  hear  me — to  the  poor  as  well 
as  to  the  rich,  to  the  rich  as  to  the  poor ;  to  the  young  and  to  the  old ; 
to  the  king  and  to  the  peasant.  It  is  the  crown  which  awaited  poor 
Lazarus,  after  a  life  passed  in  suffering  and  beggary.  It  is  the  crown 
which  was  found  by  the  poor  widow  of  Jerusalem  after  a  life  of  great 
privation.  It  is  the  crown  received  by  the  humble  and  gentle  Dorcas, 
after  a  life  spent  among  the  poor  in  the  blessed  occupations  of  charity. 
It  is  the  crown  which  is  offered  to  every  one  of  you,  after  the  passage 
tlirough  this  life  of  trial.  It  is  the  crown  which  you  should  take  heed 
not  to  have  lost,  when  in  a  few  years — in  eight,  in  ten  years,  who  can 
know?  in  time,  still  shorter — you  may  quit  this  earth,  to  pass  into  that 
unknown  eternity. 


THE    FALL    OF     CHARLES    X,  143 

"When  tho  subject  of  a  naoiiarch,  who,  this  very  week,  has,  by  his  own 
fault,  lost  his  crown,  again  occurs  to  you,  I  intreat  each  one  of  you  to 
say  to  himself,  in  the  presence  of  God:  "And  thou,  O  ray  soul,  how  is 
it  Avith  thee  ?  Hast  thou  been  careful  to  make  sure  to  thee  the  crown 
of  life?  Art  thou  more  occupied  (so  it  should  be),  a  thousand  times 
more  occupied  with  this  concern,  than  with  the  occurrences  of  the  year 
with  the  events  of  the  day,  or  the  passing  debates  of  politics  ?  Hast 
thou  considered  that  '  it  is  a  terrible  thing  to  faU  into  the  hands  of  the 
living  God  ?'  And  hast  thou  earnestly  inquired,  '  what  will  become  of 
thee  shouldst  thou  neglect  this  great  salvation  ?'  " 

After  holding  converse  with  each  other  on  the  sad  iate  of  this  king — 
fallen  from  his  throne,  flying  his  kingdom,  abandoned  by  all,  not  know- 
ing where  to  find  an  asylum,  in  Avliicli  to  weep  for  his  CroAvn  and  his 
glory — I  intreat  of  you  to  enter  into  serious  communion  with  yourselves, 
to  place  before  your  mhids  this  thought :  "  What  shall  be  in  eternity  ? 
What  shall  soon  bo  the  frightful  condition  of  those  who  lose  the  crown 
of  life,  and  find  themselves  cast  out  into  darkness."  I  intreat  you  to  ask 
yourselves  what,  in  this  approaching  eternity,  will  be  the  condition  of 
an  immortal  being,  who  must  say:  "I  might  have-  obtained  the  crown 
of  life,  but  by  my  own  fixult  have  lost  it!  I  might  have  been  admitted 
to  the  right  hand  of  God.  I  might  have  been  happy,  happy  forever,  and 
I  have  chosen  to  remain  '  a  child  of  the  devil,  under  wrath ;  far  from 
blessedness,  far  from  my  God,  with  the  devil  and  his  angels.'  " 

"  It  is  then,"  said  our  Lord,  "  that  there  will  be  weeping  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth,  when  you  shall  see  Abraham^  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  all  the  just 
and  all  the  prophets,  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  you  yourselves  cast 
without !"  It  is  then  that  "  the  righteous  shall  shme  as  the  sun  in  tlie 
kingdom  of  their  Father." 

For,  after  all,  what  is  a  kingdom  of  this  world  ?  What  is  one  of  these 
crowns  for  which  men  sigh,  and  for  Avhich  so  many  efl:brts,  so  many 
labors,  and,  often,  so  many  crimes,  procure  so  little  ?  What  is  one  of 
these  crowns,  compared  to  the  crown  of  life? 

Ah !  my  brethren,  to  all  the  v»-ealth  of  this  world,  to  all  the  crowns  of 
this  life,  two  things  are  wanting :  First.  They  confer  not  happiness,  be- 
cause they  procure  no  reconciliation  with  God  ;  they  bestow  no  holiness  ; 
they  give  no  peace  ;  they  encircle  but  too  often  the  brow  of  an  enemy 
to  God — loaded  with  cares,  watered  with  tears;  they  crown  nothing 
but  sorrow. 

Secondly.  Another  thing  is  wanting :  it  is  duration.  Sliould  the  pos- 
session of  a  crown  bestow  happiness,  its  continuance  might  be  for  thirty 
years;  it  might  be  but  for  three  days!  After  the  most  glorious  reign, 
the  crown,  the  scepter,  and  the  sword  repose  upon  the  cofiin  ;  they 
ornament  nothing  but  a  corpse  !  But  the  ci'own  which  I  am  sent  to 
announce,  is  oifered  on  the  part  of  God,  through  Jesus  Christ ;  it  is 
offered  to  the  child  as  well  as  to  the  aged;  to  the  poor  as  to  the  rich 


144  S.    R.    L.    GAUSSEN. 

All !  tliat  crown  is  the  real  one  ;  for  that  alone  bears  the  character? 
Avhicli  are  wanting  to  all  the  crowns  upon  earth.  "First,  it  gives  hajipi- 
ness — it  is  happiness  in  itself;  it  is  called  by  Saint  Panl,  the  "  crown  of 
righteousness,"  by  David,  the  crown  of  "grace  and  compassion,"  by  a 
prophet,  the  "crown  of  joy;"  and  secondly,  this  crown  is  immortal;  it 
i.s  in  itself  a  blessed  immortality;  it  is  the  crown  of  life,  and,  by  the 
apostles,  is  called  the  "incorruptible  crown  of  glory," 

My  brethren,  take  care,  then,  that  no  one  take  from  you  this  crovm. 
This  is  the  first  reflection  which  I  had  much  at  heart  that  you  should 
draw  from  my  subject. 

The  second  is  this : 

That  which,  without  doubt,  must  aggravate  and  much  embitter  the 
pain  of  the  unfortunate  monarch  of  France,  and  of  his  family,  in  view  of 
their  fall,  and  of  the  blood  which  it  has  caused  to  flow,  is  the  numerous 
warnings  so  vainly  received  by  them  during  the  past  year — the  last  week 
still,  and  even  the  day  preceding  the  one  Avhich  consummated  their  ruin. 
How  often  might  he  have  arrested  the  steps  which  ruined  him,  and  have 
pursued  a  career  of  peace,  as  one  of  the  most  happy  and  powerful  sov- 
ereigns of  our  age!  Ho^y  often  have  his  honor  and  happiness  been 
placed  in  his  own  hands,  and  he  incapable  of  retaining  them !  How 
many  reflections  will  come  to  him  in  his  sad  exile,  bearing  the  reproach, 
like  that  which  God  formerly  addressed  to  his  people :  "  Thou  '^ast 
destroyed  thyself,  O  Israel !" 

Let  us  each  one  apply  this  example  to  himself 
■  How  many  times,  my  brethren,  have  you  been  warned  by  God.  On 
how  many  occasions  has  he  said  to  you — now ;  to-day  ;  on  this  Sabbath- 
day  ;  at  this  communion  season  ;  on  this  bed  of  sickness ;  in  these  days 
of  mourning — "  Poor  child  ;  give  me  thy  heart !  "Wilt  thou  not  come  to 
me  that  thou  mayest  have  life  ?"  How  often  in  the  strength  and  clear- 
ness of  these  warnings  have  they  not  seemed  to  say  to  you,  as  to  Jeru- 
salem, "  Oh,  if  at  least,  in  this  thy  day,  thou  wouldst  have  listened  to  the 
things  that  belonged  to  thy  peace  !  My  people,  my  people !  Oh,  if 
thou  couldst  have  listened  to  me!"  How  often  has  it  been  asked 
v.-hether  you  were  in  Christ !  How  often  has  it  been  repeated  that  there 
is  salvation  in  none  other.  And  with  what  truth  may  it  be  said  to  you, 
as  Panl  said  to  the  church  at  Miletus,  "  I  am  pure  from  the  blood  of  all 
men." 

Know,  then,  that  the  kingdom  of  God  has  come  nigh  to  yon ;  that 
you  have  been  warned.  Deceive  not  yourselves ;  for  "  God  will  not  be 
mocked."  "That  which  a  man  soweth  shall  he  also  reap.  He  that 
soweth  to  the  flesh  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption ;  and  he  that  sow- 
eth  to  the  Spirit,  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap  life  everlasting," 

And  certainly  one  of  the  greatest  torments  endured  by  those  who,  at 
the  last  day,  shall-  stand  at  the  left  hand,  will  be  the  thought  of  all 
these   despised  warnings,  of  all  ^nese  neglected  appeals,  of  all  these 


THE     FALL     OF     CHARLES     X.  145 

invitations  of  divine  goodness,  received  with  indift'ercnee,  and  repulsed 
with  such  carelessness,  with  even  so  much  contempt.  "  Because  I  have 
called,"  said  divine  AVisdom,  "  and  ye  refused  ;  I  have  stretched  out  my 
hand  and  no  man  regarded  ;  but  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my  counsel, 
and  would  none  of  my  reproof:  I  also  will  laugh  at  your  calamity:  I 
will  mock  when  your  fear  cometh ;  for  that  they  hated  knowledge,  and 
did  not  choose  the  fear  of  the  Lord  :  they  would  none  of  my  counsel : 
they  despised  all  my  reproof.  Therefore  shall  they  eat  of  the  fruit  of 
their  own  way,  and  be  filled  with  their  own  devices." 

Vou,  also,  have  received  warnings  to  avoid  the  greatest  of  all  miseries 
— the  loss  of  the  crown  of  life,  an  irreparable  misfortune ;  the  ruin  of 
your  soul — eternal  ruin  !     This  is  our  second  reflection. 

The  third,  is,  that  with  which  we  would  stir  up  the  depths  of  your 
conscience,  whenever  the  intercourse  you  hold  with  each  other,  this 
week,  shall  lead  you  to  the  subject  of  that  event  which,  but  a  few  days 
ago,  overthrew  the  son  of  a  long  race  of  kings. 

Like  him,  you  have  a  time  given  and  determined ;  a  time,  after 
which,  "  it  will  be  too  late,"  an  extremely  short  time.  "  Behold  I  come," 
saith  the  Lord  ;  "  behold,  I  como  quickly !" 

There  is  a  reflection  which  often  strikes  me  in  reading  the  Bible,  when, 
in  the  books  of  Chronicles,  I  meet  the  history  of  the  kings  of  Israel  and 
of  Judah.  In  considering  the  judgment,  which  in  a  few  lines  the  Holy 
Spirit  passes  upon  each  of  these  princes,  also  the  short  recital  of  their 
course  upon  earthy  always  ending  with  these  words,  so  simple,  yet  so 
solemn :  and  he  died.  He  walked  in  the  steps  of  David,  to  do  right ; 
and  he  died.  He  walked  in  the  ways  of  Jei-oboam,  to  do  evil ;  then  he 
died.  Perusing,  I  say,  these  short  but  solemn  biographies,  I  ask  myself, 
And  if  nay  name  had  also  been  written  upon  this  list,  what,  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  would  have  been  inscribed  of  me  ?  He  Avalked  in  the  ways  of 
— —  ;  and  he  died !     And  in  whose  ways,  O  my  God  ? 

And  now,  ray  brethren,  in  presence  of  this  king,  who  so  suddenly  has 
ended  his  reign,  put  this  question  to  yourselves.  You,  indeed,  bear  not 
a  scepter,  but  you  have  no  less  a  task  to  fulfill  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Whatever  instrument  he  has  been  pleased  to  put  in  our  hands  for  his 
service,  whether  the  hoe  of  the  laborer,  or  the  scepter  of  the  king,  it  is, 
that  we  may  study  to  glorify  him  in  our  short  passage  through  this 
world.  O,  how  important  then  are  the  days  that  flow  along  so  rapidly ! 
How  solemn  to  us  are  the  hours !  This  is  the  year  in  which  our  history 
])rogresses ;  this  is  the  time  in  which  it  is  written  in  the  book  of  i-emem- 
brance  kept  before  God,  and  the  page  will  soon  finish  with  these  inevit- 
able words,  "  and  he  dledy 

O  ye,  who  still  enjoy  a  happy  and  peaceful  existence  upon  earth, 
whom  tlie  sun  still  enlightens  with  his  beams,  within  whose  grasp  is  life 
eternal,  be  not,  I  conjure  you,  turned  away  from  your  high  destiny,  from 
your  everlasting  kingdom,  from  your  inheritance  in  the  heavens,  by  the 

10 


14:6  S.    R.    L.    GAUSSEN-. 

comparatively  puerile  events  of  public  affairs,  by  the  movements  of  na- 
tions, by  the  noisy  waves  of  the  multitude  !  Ah,  of  what  importance  to 
you  is  this  or  that  kingdom,  or  its  king  ?  Above  all,  let  j'^our  concern 
be  about  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  your  eternal  interest.  Those 
around  you  are  much  concerned  about  the  news  of  the  day ;  let  your 
chief  inquiry  be  after  the  state  of  your  soul.  The  monarch  of  France, 
as  a  king,  has  just  ended  his  probation,  as  David,  Solomon,  Rehoboam, 
and  so  many  others,  have  ended  theirs ;  as  you  yourselves  soon,  bear- 
ing the  name  of  Christians,  will  end  yours.  This  king  had  but  one 
space  of  time ;  that  time  is  passed  ;  you  have  but  one  space  of  tune ; 
this  time  will  pass.  His  reign  is  finished ;  he  can  alter  nothing,  can 
mend  nothing;  he  can  take  nothing  from' it,  he  can  add  nothing  to  it. 
AH  his  days,  to  the  last  hours  of  his  fall,  are  registered  in  the  history  of 
France,  and  in  the  more  exact  history  which  is  written  in  heaven.  He 
can  not  revoke  a  single  one  of  his  acts ;  "  the  past  is  engraven  upon  a 
table  of  steel  with  the  point  of  a  diamond,"  thus  speaks  Jeremiah.  It  is 
immutable  ;  the  time  of  warning  is  past.     Now,  it  is  too  late. 

Christians,  profit  by  this  reflection  ;  think  of  yourselves ;  take  hold  upon 
eternal  life.  Soon  your  career  will  be  ended  ;  soon  you  will  be  able  to 
change  nothing,  to  correct  nothing.  You  will  be  imable  to  retrench  any 
thing,  or  to  add  any  thing.  See,  the  Lord  cometh !  "  Behold,  I  come 
quickly,"  he  cries.  He  will  arrive  at  midnight,  the  hour  most  unexpected. 
This  time,  this  day,  is  for  you  in  the  sight  of  God,  as  was  that  at  the 
beginning  of  the  last  week,  the  26th  and  2'7th  of  July,  for  the  unhappy 
prince  whose  reign  is  just  ended.  This  is  then  a  solemn,  an  inestimable 
time.  Think  of  your  soul !  Let  your  history  be  that  of  a  Christian. 
It  is  now  the  time  to  write  it.  O  let  it  be  well  written.  Be  not  enticed 
by  the  tumult  and  illusion  of  visible  objects,  which  will  vanish  as  a 
dream  of  the  morning.  For  you  there  is  business  more  pressing,  news 
more  serious,  an  event  more  important  than  all  the  revolutions  of  em- 
pires— the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ;  the  end  of  time;  the  beginning- of 
eternity;  your  appearance  before  the  King  of  kings;  the  solemn  erection 
in  the  heavens  "  of  the  great  white  throne  upon  which  the  King  will 
seat  himself,  before -Avhom  shall  fly  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  before 
whom  the  books  shall  be  opened,  and  the  dead,  both  great  and  small, 
shall  appear,  to  be  judged  according  to  what  is  written  in  these  books." 

This  is  our  third  reflection.  Jesus  Christ  will  come  quickly — the 
time  is  short — soon  it  will  be  too  late,  "  Behold,"  says  the  Lord,  "  be- 
hold I  come  quickly."  This,  I  say,  is  our  third  "reflection  ;  and  here  is 
the  last. 

It  is  contained  in  these  words,  '•'•Hold  that  fast  liihich  thou  hast?^ 

If  the  unhappy  prince,  whose  fall  now  serves  for  our  instruction,  had 
held  fast  the  contract  which  united  him  to  his  people,  it  is  believed  that 
he  would  still  retain  his  crown  ;  this,  at  least,  is  certain,  that  if  you  do 
not  remain  faithl'al  to  th-j  covenant  of  Jesus  Christ,  you  will  lose  liio 


THE     FALL    OF     CHARLES    X.  147 

crown  of  life.  This  is  the  meaning  of  the  words,  "  Hold  that  fast  lohich 
thou  hast.^^ 

And  now,  at  the  close,  it  is  important  that  these  words,  be  well  un- 
derstood. They  are  addressed  to  men  Avho  have  already  received  the 
gospel  of  Jesus  Christ ;  they  press  such  to  attach  themselves  to  it  with 
fervency,  and  to  persevere  in  it  with  firmness.  "  Ta/ce  heed,  hold  that 
fast  ichieh  thou  hast.'''' 

And  what  is  the  secret  of  ^:>r(?ser?)/;?^  the  crovm  f  It  is  to  hold  fast 
that  ichich  thou  hast  /  it  is  to  be  held  by  faith  in  him  who  alone  has  been 
able  to  acquire  it  for  us,  to  Jesus  Christ,  out  of  whom  we  can  in  no  wise 
approach  unto  God,  and  out  of  whom  God  will  in  no  wise  approach  unto 
us ;  it  is  to  hold  fast,  by  fxith,  to  the  hand  of  this  Saviour,  who  alone  can 
deliver  us  from  the  wrath  to  come,  because  in  him  alone  can  we  find  for- 
giveness in  our  Judge,  and  the  change  of  our  own  heart.  "  Holdfast 
that  xohich  thou  hast.'*'' 

If  you  desire  a  still  more  scriptural  exposition  of  the  important  words 
of  our  text,  you  will  find  it  in  the  exhortation  Avhich  the  apostle  addresses 
to  the  Hebrews,  "  Cast  not  away,  therefore,  your  confidence,  which  hath 
great  recompense  of  reward  :  for  yet  a  little  while  and  he  that  shall  come, 
will  come,  and  will  not  tarry !  Now  the  just  shall  live  by  faith,  and  if 
any  mau  draw  back  my  soul  shall  have  no  j^leasure  in  him,  saith  the 
Lord.  But  we  are  not  of  them  that  draw  back  unto  perdition  ;  but  of 
them  that  believe  to  the  saving  of  the  soul." 

This  then  is  the  concluding  exhortation :  unite  yourselves  to  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ — remain  firm  in  the  faith — go  to  him  every  day — distrust 
your  own  selves  every  day — read  his  word  every  day — nourish  yourselves 
at  all  times  by  faith  upon  his  flesh  and  his  blood — expect  nothing  from 
God,  but  through  hun.  Receive  daily,  as  for  the  first  time,  in  your  soul, 
the  good  news,  that,  your  sins  being  remitted  for  the  sake  of  Jesus,  you 
have  the  right,  in  his  name,  to  call  upon  God  as  your  father,  and  that 
you  can  do  all  things  through  Christ,  who  strengthens  you.  In  a  word, 
"  holdfast  that  wJiich  you  havieP  Fight  the  good  fight — go  on  in  your 
course — keep  the  faith  ;  and  then  shall  you  receive  the  crown  of  life,  and 
be  enabled  to  say  with  Paul,  "  I  have  fought  the  good  fight,  I  have 
finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith,  and  henceforth  there  is  a  crown 
reserved  for  me,  which  the  Lord,  the  just  judge,  will  give  me  in  that  day  ; 
and  not  to  me  only,  but  also  to  all  those  who  love  his  appearing." 

JMy  brethren,  the  apostle  has  made  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians  a 
comparison  with  Avhich  I  shall  conclude.  "  The  men  of  the  world,"  he 
says,  "  that  strive  for  the  mastery  are  temperate  in  all  things,  they  sub- 
mit to  the  greatest  privations,  they  strive  to  obtain  a  corrxiptihle  croxni., 
and  will  you  not  do  it  for  an  incorruptible  one  ?"  Such  is  the  reasoning 
of  St.  V-x\\\. 

I  conclude,  then,  by  recalling  to  you,  what  I  have  said  on  the  subject 
of  the  unhappy  monarch  of  the  French.     First.,  Like  him,  you  have  a 


148  S.    R.    L.    GAUSSEN. 

crown  which  you  ought  not  to  lose.  Secondly^  Upon  this  subject,  you 
have  received  the  clearest  warnings  from  Gocl.  Thirdly^  You  have  but 
one  time,  a  short  time,  a  time  which  will  not  twice  return  ;  the  time  of  this 
life,  uncertain  and  rapidly  passing  away.  Fourthly  and  finally.  You  must 
hold  firmly  to  Jesus  Christ,  out  of  whom  there  is  no  salvation,  and  who 
says  to  us  all  to-day,  "  Behold  I  come  quicldy ;  holdfast  that  ichich 
thou  hast,  that  no  man  talce  thy  ctoimi.'''' 

But  let  us  end  as  Christians  should  do,  by  raising  our  hearts  and  our 
prayers  to  God ! 

Although  the  catastrophe  which  has  shaken  a  neighboring  empire,  hag 
been  j^laced  before  us,  it  has  only  been  that  the  subject  might  fill  us  with 
spiritual  reflections ;  but  as  this  event,  in  whatever  manner  it  may  be 
viewed,  has  caused  much  misery,  and  may  be  the  occasion  of  much  more, 
let  us  raise  our  hands  toward  the  mercy-seat,  "  \sdth  prayers  and  suppli- 
cations, and  thanksgiAdngs,"  as  ordained  by  St.  Paul. 

And,  at  first,  let  us  never  look  upon  the  commotions  of  the  nations  which 
surround  us,  without  recalling  to  our  minds,  that  the  God,-  by  whom  kings 
reign  and  republics  subsist,  has  deigned  to  grant,  that  the  little  state  in 
which  we  live  should  be  the  freest,  the  best  governed,  perhaps,  and  above 
all,  the  most  united  and  happy,  that  exists  upon  the  earth,  without  the  cost 
of  a  tear,  or  a  drop  of  blood,  or  a  hair  of  the  head.  Let  our  thanks,  then, 
be  rendered  to  God,  and  may  he,  according  to  his  own  good  pleasure, 
grant  to  us  a  long  national  peace,  and  especially  grant  that  greater  pro- 
gress be  made  in  the  possession  of  his  gospel,  and  in  the  love  of  his  Son, 
Jesus  Christ,  whose  knowledge  gives  life  to  nations  as  well  as  to  souls. 

After  these  thanksgivings,  my  brethren,  let  us  call  to  mind,  also,  that 
the  word  of  God  exhorts  us  to  pray  for  all  men,  even  for  princes  who  do 
not  rule  over  us.  And,  since  to-day  we  have  received  a  lesson  from  the 
sudden  fall  of  this  great  king,  let  us  not  forget  that  the  unhappy  prince 
is  among  the  living — that  he  is  an  old  man — that  he  knows  not  where  to 
tui-n  his  steps — that  he  sheds  tears — and  that,  having  witnessed  the  fate 
of  the  most  honest  of  kings — ^liis  respectable  brother — the  most  virtuous 
of  princesses — his  sweet  and  pious  sister,  who  perished  upon  the  scalTold 
— ^he  has  the  grief  to  behold,  with  his  own  fall,  that  of  his  son  and  grand- 
son. Let  us  then  pray  for  this  unfortunate  man,  whose  conscience  was, 
without  doubt,  further  led  astray  than  his  head.  Let  us  pray,  that  re- 
nouncing all  the  false  traditions  of  men,  he  may  now  attach  himself  with 
his  whole  heart  to  the  holy  Bible,  and  that,  by  the  grace  of  God,  our 
Saviour,  he  may  exchange  the  crown  which  he  has  lost,  and  which  after 
all,  is  but  dust,  for  the  unfiiding  crown  of  glory  which  is  found  in  Jesus 
Christ.  Let  us  pray  that  God  may  confound  the  deplorable  deceptions 
of  those  men,  -who,  for  three  hundred  years,  have  led  astray  the  conscien- 
ces of  the  kings  of  France,  and  have  maintained,  contrary  to  the  word, 
in  the  name  of  the  priesthood  and  of  human  traditions,  a  war  as  fatal  to 
the  happiness  as  to  the  morality  of  this  great  people  ! 


DISlOURSE    XII. 

C  iE  S  A  R    Tvl  A  L  A  N  ,    D  .  D  . 

Tuis  pious  and  venerable  divine  was  born,  at  Geneva,  Switzerland,  where  he  still 
resides.  His  father  Avas  Professor  of  Ancient  Languages  at  Geneva,  and  a  fine  clas- 
sical scholar.  The  Malans  are  of  an  ancient  Albigensian  noble  family,  from 
Merindol,  south  of  France,  where  the  ruins  of  their  castle  may  still  be  seen.  They 
were  driven  out  by  terrible  persecution.  One  of  the  ancestors  of  Dr.  Malan  was 
bui-ied  alive,  with  Bible  in  hand,  refusing  to  renounce  the  true  faith.^  He  often 
pleasantly  remarks :  "  We  are  not  of  the  reformed  Christians ;  we  have  always 
been  evangelical — a  true  church  of  Christ  before  the  Eeformation."  He  was 
educated  in  the  celebrated  coUege  of  Geneva,  where  he  stood  remarkably  high, 
and  afterward  became  a  Regent  of  the  Institution.  His  ordination  was  received 
in  the  State  church  of  Geneva,  where  he  preached,  according  to  custom,  in  rota- 
tion, in  the  various  churches  of  the  city,  often  officiating  in  St.  Pierre,  the  cathedral ; 
and  being  considered  one  of  the  most  gifted  orators  o^  Geneva.  He  preached  a 
number  of  years  before  his  conversion. 

But  yet  it  was  to  Cajsar  Jklalan  that  the  grace  and  the  glory  were  to  be  given, 
first  to  raise  from  the  ground  the  tarnished  banner  of  the  church  of  Geneva,  and, 
from  the  pulpit  of  Calvin,  boldly  to  proclaim  that  gospel  whose  echoes  scarcely 
lingered  within  his  temple.  He  was  led  fully  to  embrace  that  gospel,  by  means 
of  Mr.  Robert  Haldane,  of  Scotland,  then  residing  in  Geneva.  Before  the  coming 
of  Mr.  Haldane  he  had  been  roused  from  a  state  of  death,  to  some  sense  of  spiritual 
destitution.  But  the  change  was  not  complete  until  about  the  year  1816.  To 
use  his  own  words,  ui  his  letter  to  Mr.  Bickersteth :  "  At  the  time  I  was  awakened 
to  life  everlasting,  I  was  still  in  darkness  and  great  feebleness  in  almost  all  points ;  and 
I  know  how  useful,  how  efficacious',  under  God's  blessing,  to  my  mind,  to  my  soul, 
to  my  humble  heart,  were  the  teaching  and  fatherly  g-uidance  of  liv.  Haldane, 
whom,  in  the  bonds  of  love,  I  honor  as  a  father  sent  to  me  by  God,  and  who, 
before  he  left  Geneva,  had  seen  not  only  in  myself,  but  in  numerous  other  instances, 
that  the  word  of  truth,  and  not  '  tracts  or  addresses,'  had  been  blessed — yes,  sir, 
wonderfully  blessed  from  above — for  the  present,  and  the  eternal  happiness  of 
many  souls.  The  glory  be  to  the  Lord,  but  the  joy  to  that  servant  of  Jesus,  and 
liis  spiritual  brethren,  and  brethren  in  our  precious  faitL" 

No  sooner  had  the  eloquent  preacher  and  Regent  himself  embraced  the  truth, 
than  he  proclaimed  it  to  others.  On  a  particular  occasion,  he  preached  a  sermon 
in  the  cathedral,  in  proof  of  the  doctrine  of  justification  by  fiiith.  His  words 
dropped  on  the  leaden  slumbers  of  his  audience,  like  bolts  of  fire  shpt  from  heaven. 
Pastors,  professors,  syndics  and  private  citizens,  were  cut  to  the  heart,  and  ahnost 


150  C^SAR    MALAN. 

gnashed  on  him  with  their  teeth,  as  Dr.  Malan  descended  from  the  pulpit  and 
passed  through  their  opening  ranks  unrecognized,  an  avoided  and  rejected  man. 
It  Avas  not  in  his  loving  heart  and  tender  sensibilities  to  disregard  the  insult  and 
derision  to  which  he  was  thus  pubicly  exposed.  His  own  relatives  turned  away 
from  him  with  mingled  emotions  of  disappointment,  vexation,  and  shame.  Hij 
attached  wife,  not  then,  as  afterward,  a  partaker  of  the  same  glorious  faith,  beheld 
him  with  a  grieved  and  wounded  heart,  and,  by  her  looks,  reproached  him  with  the 
shipwreck  of  aU  the  cherished  dreams  of  their  young  ambition.  He  walked  in  his 
robes  from  the  ancient  temple  of  Calvin  to  his  own  house,  dejected  and  over- 
whelmed, about  to  hide  himself  in  his  secret  chamber.  But,  on  entering  his  door, 
the  manly  form  and  benignant  countenance  of  Eobert  Haldane  met  his  eye,  and 
his  sinking  spirits  were  revived,  as  by  a  cordial,  when  his  hand  was  grasped,  and 
the  words  were  heard,  "  Thank  God  !  The  gospel  has  been  once  more  preached 
in  Geneva." 

As  the  result  of  this,  however,  he  was  deprived  of  the  use  of  the  pulpits.  This 
was  in  1817.  The  severity  with  which  he  was  treated,  being  expelled  from  all  em- 
ployments in  the  college  and  the  church,  together  with  the  boldness  and  firmness 
of  his  bearing,  the  fervor  of  his  feelings,  and  the  power  of  his  discourses,  drew 
crowds  after  him.  Men  were  converted  by  the  grace  of  God,  and,  in  1818,  an 
Independent  church  was  formed,  and  a  chapel  built,  called  the  Eglise  Temoinage,  in 
a  lovely  spot  just  beyond  the  walls  of  the  city,  in  his  own  garden  or  park.  And 
here  the  bold  confessor  of  the  faith  has  since  continued  to  officiate.  He  has  often 
made  preaching  tours  in  Germany,  France,  aud  Switzerland,  which  are  delightfully 
detailed  in  his  "  Eighty  Days  of  Missionary  Labor." 

'In  the  bosom  of  his  own  family.  Dr.  Malan  shines  as  the  man  of  God.  "  I  shall 
never  forget,"  says  Dr.  Cheever,  "  the  sweet  Sabbath  evenings  passed  there.  A 
charm  rested  upon  the  conversation,  an  atmosphere  as  sacred  as  the  Sabbath  day's 
twilight.  At  tea,  a  text  of  Scripture  had  been  written  for  each  member  of  the 
family,  as  well  as  for  the  Christian  friends  who  might  be  present,  and  placed 
underneath  the  plate,  to  be  read  by  each  in  his  turn,  eliciting  some  appropriate 
remark  from  the  venerable  pastor  and  father.  The  evening  worship  was  performed 
with  hymns,  which  Dr.  Malan  had  written  to  melodies  which  he  had  himself  com- 
posed, sung  by  the  voices  of  his  daughters,  with  the  accompaniment  of  instrumental 
music.  It  would  have  been  difficult  to  witness  anywhere  a  lovelier  picture  of  a 
Christian  family.  The  household  seemed  to  me  like  some  of  the  peaceful  shining 
vales  among  his  native  mountains,  where  one  might  sit  upon  the  hill-side  he  is 
climbing,  and  gaze  down  upon  the  green  grass  and  the  running,  murmuring  stream, 
and  say  within  liimself.  If  there  be  happiness  undisturbed  in  the  wide  world,  it 
must  be  here." 

Were  you  to  be  introduced  to  Dr.  Malan,  adds  Dr.  C,  you  might  think  at 
once  of  John  Bunyan.  if  you  chanced  to  have  got  an  impression  of  the  Dreamer, 
as  I  did,  from  an  old  picture  of  a  countenance  full  of  grace,  with  silvery  locks  flow- 
ing down  upon  the  shoulders.  This  peculiarity  makes  Dr.  Malan's  appearance  most 
venerable  and  delightful.  His  eye  is  remarkably  quick  and  piercing ;  liis  coun- 
tenance expressive  and  changeful  with  emotion. 

Dr.  Malan  has  published  a  great  number  of  tracts,  stories  for  children,  and  nar- 
rative volumes ;  also,  several  books  of  music  and  poetry,  aU  from  his  own  head. 
He  has  written  and  published  a  book  of  church  music — every  note  and  every  verse 
— the  best  ever  composed  in  the  French,  entitled  "  Chants  de  Sion."    His  tracts  are 


TUE     PIETY     OF    YOUNG     DANIEL,  151 

remarkable  for  poiutednoss,  simplicity,  and  interest.  They  have  been  printed  in 
nearly  every  language.  Some  of  liis  tracts  are  hke  the  Dairyman's  Daughter  of 
Legh  Richmond,  for  &imple  truth  and  beauty.  They  present  the  Uving  realities  ol' 
the  gospel  in  a  manner  most  impressive  and  affecting  to  the  mind,  in  narratives, "ir 
dialogues,  in  familiar  parables,  and  illustrations. 

As  a  preacher.  Dr.  Malan  is  eminently  spiritual  and  instructive.  The  cardinal  doc- 
trines of  salvation  are  the  staple  of  his  discourses,  and  he  loves  to  dwell  upon  the 
bright  and  persuasive  side  of  truth  divine,  leading  his  flock  in  green  pastures  beside 
the  stiU  waters.  The  sermon  which  follows,  though  not  as  bold  and  imposing  in  its 
eloquence  as  some  of  the  author's  productions,  is  a  fine  example  of  his  unction  and 
vivacity  of  style,  as  well  as  liis  peculiar  facility  in  simplifying  the  greatest  and  most 
important  truths,  and  evolving  them  from  seemingly  the  slightest  incidents. 


THE    PIETY    OF    YOUNG    DANIEL. 

"Bui  Daniel  purposed  in  his  heart  that  he  would  not  defile  himself  with  the  portion  ol 
the  kmg's  meat,  nor  with  the  wine  which  he  drank  ;  therefore  he  requested  the  prince  of 
the  eunuchs  that  he  might  not  defile  himself." 

"  And  at  the  end  of  ten  days  their  countenances  appeared  fairer  and  fatter  in  flesh  than 
all  the  children  which  did  eat  the  portion  of  the  king's  meat." — Daniel,  i.  8,  15. 

We  have  before  us,  Christians,  one  of  those  noble  witnesses,  who  com- 
pose that  cloud  of  which  the  Apostle  Paul  speaks,  and  who  surround  the 
church  while  she  is  militant  upon  earth.  He  is  but  a  man,  it  is  true,  but 
he  is  a  faithful  man ;  and  we  behold  him  placed  in  such  circumstances  as 
at  once  to  engage  our  lively  attention,  and  aflbrd  us  the  most  important 
lessons. 

Daniel  is  a  young  man,  distinguished  in  every  way,  and  surrounded  by 
all  tlie  charms  and  all  the  attractions  of  the  w^orld.  He  is  in  the  flower 
of  his  age,  accomplished  in  person,  of  high  birth,  and  cultivated  mind. 
The  path  to  dazzling  glory,  in  the  court  of  a  powerful  monarch,  is  o])en 
before  him.  It  is  under  these  circumstances  that  a  mighty  temptation 
approaches  him.  Infidelity,  clad  in  sublime  array,  knocks  at  the  door  of 
his  heart.  Daniel  is  a  Hebrew :  his  law  forbids  him  to  touch  impui-e 
meats;  and  it  is  upon  such  as  an  idolatrous  king  offers  to  his  false 
gods  that  Daniel  is  required  to  feed. 

AVhat  will  he  do  ?  Will  he,  like  the  greater  number  of  young  He- 
brews who  are  brought  up  with  liim,  make  necessity  his  pretext?  Will 
he  make  his  faith  bend  to  his  circumstances,  and  eat  of  these  meats  ? 
You  wlio,  like  Daniel,  fear  the  Lord,  and  trust  in  him,  can  answer  the 
question.  "  Daniel,"  you  will  reply,  "  is  a  behever  ;  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
is  with  him ;  and,  strengthened  by  this  Spirit,  he  will  be  rendered  more 
than  conqueror." 

Yes,  my  brethren,  more  than  conqueror;  nor  is  he  alone  in  the  victory 


152  C^SAR    MALAN. 

With  him,  tima  of  his  companions,  sprung  like  himself  from  the  tribe  of 
Jiidah,  and  like  him  obedient  to  the  Son  of  God,  come  to  the  resolution 
not  to  defile  themselves  with  the  meat  and  the  wine  of  the  king.  They 
strengthen  themselves  in  their  God,  and  then  make  known  their  requests 
to  the  prince  of  the  eunuchs,  who,  secretly  influenced  by  Daniel's  God, 
consents  to  permit  the  trial  which  the  young  Hebrews  desire,  whatever 
may  be  the  consequence. 

It  is,  then,  neither  by  the  dainties,  nor  upon  the  wine  of  the  king, 
that  these  four  faithful  men  are  supported.  It  is  by  their  determination 
alone ;  first,  during  ten  days,  and,  subsequently,  during  the  three  years 
of  their  prejiaration  for  their  reception  at  court ;  and  the  eye  of  Jeho- 
vah meanwhile  rests  upon  them. 

How  I  delight  to  contemplate  these  young  men  thus  honoring  their 
religion  !  It  excites  our  interest,  it  commands  our  respect.  Daniel, 
knowing  himself  to  be  a  child  of  God,  and  ardently  loving  his  Father, 
earnestly  repulses  the  charm  which  the  temptation  presents,  gives  no 
place  to  sin  in  his  heart,  and  thus  manifests  the  devotedness  of  a  disciple 
who  is  filled  with  the  love  of  Jesus,  and  led  by  his  Spirit. 

Christians,  and  above  all,  young  Christians,  is  this  a  model  that  we  de- 
sire to  imitate  ?  Would  we  place  this  firmness,  this  sincerity,  this  per- 
severance, before  ourselves,  as  the  example  which  we  would  follow  ?  Do 
we  desire  that  blessing  of  the  Lord  which  he  causes  to  rest  nj^on  those 
who  fear  his  name  ?  Are  we  willing,  acting  on  the  same  principle  as 
Daniel,  to  make  his  resolution  our  own,  and  look  to  heaven  for  the  same 
result  ? 

His  principle  was  faith.  His  resolution  was  to  yield  an  unshaken 
fidelity.  And  the  result  was  the  favor  of  his  God,  which  he  estimated  far 
above  all  besides.  Happy  was  Daniel  to  take  this  course !  Happy  every 
disciple  who  shall  follow  him  in  it ! 

I.  Observe,  first,  Daniel's  Principle. 

"  I  am  the  child  of  God.  As  such,  my  whole  being  is  his.  I  am  con- 
secrated to  him.  I  am  a  vessel  to  his  honor."  Such  was  Daniel's  prin- 
ciple. It  was  faith  in  the  testimony  of  God  ;  the  certainty  of  behig  one  of 
his  elect :   and  it  was  by  this  that  he  triumphed. 

And  it  is  here,  at  this  first  point,  this  starting  point,  that  the  religion 
of  Daniel,  of  a  soul  scaled  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  essentially  difi^ers  from  that 
of  those  fearful  and  double-minded  disciples,  who,  believing  only  the  half 
of  God's  testimony,  scarcely  dare  to  hope  for  salvation,  and  make  the 
attainment  of  certainty  respecting  it,  consequent  uj^on,  and  subsequent  to, 
a  long  course  of  labors  and  of  sacrifices.  "  How  can  I  believe?"  cries 
Buch  a  disciple,  "  that  I  am  already  a  subject  of  grace,  and  that  God  has 
made  me  his  child  ?  Ah !  I  must  see  in  myself  other  feelings,  other 
works,  before  I  dare  to  repose  on  the  promise  which  is  in  Christ !  I  must 
be  more  holy,  more  withdrawn  from  the  world,  before  I  dare  to  believe 
that  I  belong  to  him,  and  to  confide  in  his  pardon." 


THE     PIETY     OF    YOUNG     DANIEL.  153 

Bat  so  long  as  tins  disciple  preserves  this  course  of  hun^a^  roasoiung, 
he  will  be  but  a  slave  to  the  law,  will  obey  only  from  fear,  and  will  re- 
main destitute  of  that  holiness  which  the  s]>irit  of  adoption  produces  in 
the  redeemed  of  the  Lord.  Always  fearing,  always  doubting,  he  will 
only  serve  his  God  to  obtain  some  quiet,  and  if  he  does  not,  like  the  un- 
believing, hope  to  merit  salvation  by  his  works,  like  him,  at  least,  he  re- 
mains far  from  Jesus,  and  wearies  himself  under  a  yoke,  borne  from 
constraint  and  fear,  and  not  from  love. 

I  address  myself  so  you,  half-disciple  of  the  Saviour,  who  fear  to  repose 
unreservedly  on  his  promise,  and  Avho  would  receive  from  him  signs  and 
miracles  before  you  resolve  to  believe  in  his  testimony.  You  wish  to  see 
in  yourselves,  you  say,  fruits  of  righteousness,  before  you  beUeve  that 
mercy  has  been  extended  to  you ;  and  thus  misconceiving  the  work  of 
the  Spirit  of  grace,  you  imagine  that  the  seal  of  your  adoption  will 
only  be  affixed  on  the  summit  of  the  pyramid  of  your  filial  obedience.  But 
you  are  in  error.  As  the  Apostle  Paul  said  to  his  Galatian  friends,  so 
will  I  say  to  you:  Can  you  obey  with  the  love  of  a  child,  if  in  the  first 
instance  you  ai'e  not  sure  of  being  one?  Can  you  render  to  God  that 
filial  obedience  of  which  you  sj^eak,  if  first  you  are.  not  sealed  with  that 
spirit  of  adoption  which  produces  it  ?  Is  it  not  necessary  that  the  sap 
Avhich  nourishes  the  tree  be  heavenly,  before  it  can  produce  heavenly 
fruits  ?  And  smce  this  sap  is'the  anointing  of  the  spirit  of  a  son,  how  can 
your  souls  bring  forth  fruit  to  God,  if  you  are  strangers  to  this  divine 
unction — if  you  dare  not  to  call  God  your  Father — if  you  doubt  of  being 
liis  children  ? 

No,  undecided  disciple,  no.  It  was  never  in  acting  as  a  slave  that  the 
sentiments  and  rights  of  a  son  were  acquired.  Never  will  you  obtain 
the  seal  of  promise  whilst  you  hold  yourselves  bowed  under  the  law. 
Never  will  you  render  to  God  that  which  love  alone  can  render  to  him, 
so  long  as  fear  and  its  torments  have  rule  over  you.  (1  John,  iv.  18.) 
Rather  raise  the  pyramid  of  your  obedience  on  the  wide  and  solid  basis 
of  your  adoption  in  Christ.  As  the  first  step  to  be  taken,  be  assured 
that  mercy  has  been  extended  to  you,  and  that  you  are,  as  says  the  apos- 
tle, from  this  time,  "  children  of  God."  Seize  the  promise,  as  it  were, 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Lord.  Then,  certain  that  life  is  yours,  certain 
that  you  are  henceforward  and  forever  justified  in  Jesus,  act  as  the  elect 
and  well-beloved  of  the  Lord. 

Such  was  the  assurance  of  Daniel — such  was  the  princii:>le  whence 
sprung  his  obedience.  Doubtless,  this  child  of  man  differed  not  from 
each  of  us.  A  shmer  by  birth,  a  sinner  by  practice ;  like  us,  he  was 
taken  and  condemned  by  the  law  of  God,  which  taught  him  the  lesson 
which  we  are  to  learn,  that  he  had  no  resource  in  himself,  nor  in  his  own 
righteousness.  It  was  not,  then,  upon  his  performances  tliat  he  sup- 
ported himself;  but  upon  the  goodness  and  the  grace  of  God  alone. 
That  is  to  say,  Christians,  Daniel  was  a  believer !  he  had  faith  in  the 


154  CiESAR    MALAN. 

testimony  of  God.  Thus  his  soul  reposed  simply  and  entirely  upon 
Christ,  and  upon  the  promise  which  he  has  given,  that  "  he  who  believes 
is  justified."  (Acts,  xiii.  39.)  Daniel,  humbled  in  spirit,  looking  only 
to  tlie  mercy  of  God,  reposing  implicitly  upon  it,  and  sure  of  being  its 
object,  desired  to  act  as  one  of  the  blessed  of  the  Lord — as  a  soul  set  at 
liberty. 

Happy  and  holy  liberty  of  grace !  glorious  privilege,  with  which  the 
spirit  of  adoption  enriches  the  faithful,  biinging  him  into  communion 
with  his  Saviour.  While  the  still  wavering  disciple  drags  himself  with 
pain  and  languor  toward  the  road  of  obedience,  the  believer  whose  heart 
has  been  set  free,  runs  in  it  with  joy  (Ps.  cxix.  32),  under  the  eye  of  hi& 
God,  whose  love  sustains  him,  whose  Spirit  strengthens  his  heart,  and 
whose  promises  nourish  his  vigor  and  his  hope. 

He  will  be  chai'ged,  perha2:)s,  with  presumption ;  he  will  be  told  that 
he  wants  sobriety,  prudence,  and  that  humble  distrust  which  becomes  a 
sinner.  He  will  be  warned  that  he  is  exposing  himself  to  grievous  falls, 
and  that  his  assurance  is  the  same  rock  on  which  the  licentiousness  of 
some,  and  the  slothfulness  of  others,  has  already  split.  But  this  is  the 
language  of  self-righteousness,  or  of  the  doubt  of  wavering  faith.  Dan- 
iel, and  all  other  servants  of  God,  will  with  one  voice  fearlessly  reply: 
"  You  err,  not  knowing  what  is  the  grace  of  God.  Seek  to  know  it, 
that  you  may  learn  from  it,  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  deigns  to  dwell 
in  that  man  who  believes  in  his  grace ;  and  that  the  man  thus  regen- 
erated by  God,  has  thenceforward  one  single  desire,  which  is,  '  to  glorify 
him  in  his  body  and  spirit  which  are  his ;  because  he  has  been  bought 
with  a  price.'  To  be  an  obedient  child,  holy  as  his  God  is  holy ;  because 
he  has  been  washed  in  the  precious  blood  of  the  Lamb ;  because  he 
knows  'the  mercies  of  God.'  'He  would  purify  himself,  as  his  Saviour 
is  pure  ;  for  he  knows  that  he  shall  see  him  as  he  is,  and  be  made  like  hhn.'  " 

Thus  speak  the  Scriptures ;  thus  spake  Daniel ;  such  was  his  principle. 
Let  us  see  it  now  in  action. 

H.  Observe,  again,  Da^tiel's  Resolution". 

The  principle  of  faith,  on  which  Daniel  acted,  demanded  from  him 
courageous  fidelity.  His  whole  heart  had  been  given  to  the  Lord  ;  and 
with  his  whole  heart  he  now  prepared  to  obey  him,  though  it  should 
cost  dear  to  his  flesh  and  his  ease. 

For,  let  us  not  suppose  that  it  was  an  easy  matter  for  Daniel  and  his 
companions  to  come  to  the  resolution  which  they  had  adopted.  It  was 
not,  indeed,  a  very  diflicult  thing  to  renounce  delicate  and  dainty  food 
for  that  which  was  more  simple;  but  it  was  no  easy  task  to  resist  the 
order  of  the  jealous  king,  whose  slaves  they  were,  and  thus  to  endanger 
their  lives.  Nor  were  they  ignorant  of  the  danger  they  incurred.  The 
chief  eunuch  had  shown  it  to  them  (i.  10).  Surely,  then,  they  had 
.weighed  well  the  possible  result  of  the  step,  as  subsequently  his  three 
companions  weighed  the  fearful  alternative,  when  they  preferred  rather 


THE    PIETY     OF    YOUXG     DAXIEL.  155 

to  be  cast  into  the  fiery  furnace,  than  to  prostrate  themselves  in  woi-ship 
before  an  idol ;  and  as  Daniel  himself,  on  a  still  later  occasion,  had  the 
case  laid  before  him,  and  considered  it  well,  when  he  preferred  being 
cast  into  the  den  of  lions,  rather  than  cease  to  pray  to  the  Lord  his  God. 
Doubtless  they  had  well  weighed  the  consequences  of  the  step.  They 
counted  the  cost  before  they  commenced  building  the  tower ;  they  cal- 
culated the  requisite  labor  before  they  put  their  hands  to  the  plow. 
(Luke,  xiv.  9,  28,  62.) 

Often,  no  doubt,  had  they  spoken  to  each  other  of  their  duty  and  its 
consequences.  Many  a  time,  perha])s,  had  excuses,  pretexts  of  the  flesh, 
weakness  of  heart,  the  promises  or  the  menaces  of  the  world,  and  that 
powerful  principle,  the  love  of  life, .  interposed  between  them  and  the 
path  of  duty,  throwing  a  gloom  over  their  minds,  or  shaking  their  reso- 
lution. On  such  occasions,  what  mutual  exhortations  to  faithfuhiess 
would  be  given  ;  how  would  they  place  before  their  own  and  each  other's 
eyes  the  Avords  of  the  Lord  and  the  examples  of  his  servants ;  how 
earnestly  woidd  they  implore  their  God  for  the  spirit  of  a  Moses,  a  Sam- 
uel, a  David,  an  Elijah,  that  they  might,  if  called  to  it,  be  ready  to  for- 
feit life  rather  than  abandon  their  faith. 

No ;  it  was  not  lightly  that  Daniel  advanced  to  the  combat,  nor  was 
it  in  his  own  strength.  It  was  in  the  sincerity  of  his  heart  that  he 
resolved,  and  it  was  from  the  word  and  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  that  he 
drew  his  courage  and  his  pei-severance.  Such  wei-e  the  means  by  which 
he  acted.     Mark  them  well,  you  who,  like  him,  desire  to  be  faithful. 

"  My  son,  give  me  thine  heart,"  says  divine  Wisdom.  "  Thou  shalt 
serve  the  Lord  with  all  thy  heart  and  with  all  thy  soul,"  says  God  again 
to  his  people.  And  they  responded,  "  Amen  :  we  Avill  keep  thy  precepts 
with  our  whole  heart."  Again,  the  Lord  says  :  "  O  !  that  there  wei-c 
such  a  heart  in  them,  that  they  would  fear  me,  and  keep  all  my  com- 
mandments always."  And  the  Spirit  moves  them  to  cry :  "O!  Lord, 
make  our  hearts  to  fear  thy  name." 

It  is  your  hearty  your  entire  submission,  that  your  Saviour  demands 
of  you,  who  are  the  purchase  of  his  blood,  when  he  says  to  you  :  "  Bear 
my  burden,  take  my  yoke,  take  up  my  cross  and  follow  me."  As  ho  set 
his  love  upon  you  when  he  gave  himself  for  you  ;  when,  for  yort^  quit- 
ting his  heavenly  glory,  he  abased  himself  upon  earth ;  when  he  took 
upon  himself  yo««*  sins;  supported  for  you  all  the  weight  of  the  curse  of 
the  law ;  was  crucified  and  died ;  so  he  expects  fiom  you  the  willing 
surrender  of  your  xohole  heart.  This  offering,  and  this  alone,  is  pleasing 
to  the  Lord.     He  demands  your  faith  ;  he  requires  your  gratitude. 

O  !  then,  lukewarm  disciples,  who  walk  with  reluctance  in  the  nar- 
row path,  who  yield  with  sorrow  and  regi-et  the  scanty  measure  of  sub- 
mission that  you  ofler  to  Jesus;  see  Avherein  the  reason  lies!  Learn 
why,  far  from  imitating  a  Daniel,  in  presenting  yourselves  unreservedly 
to  the  Lord,  it  is  with  pain,  with  multiplied  reservations  and  conditions, 


156  CiESAR    MALAN, 

and  Tvitli  a  scanty  and  shameful  parsimony  of  affection,  that  you  bring 
yourselves  to  consent,  as  by  constraint,  perhaps  to  sacrifice  a  single  lust, 
a  single  habit,  a  sdanty  portion  of  time,  of  pleasure,  of  ease,  or  of  wealth, 
a  little  of  your  glory  or  of  your  vanity.  Your  heart !  your  heart !  is  not 
given  to  him;  the  woi'ld  holds  that  captive  still.  Perhaps  some  idol, 
some  aftection,  or  some  lust  disputes  it  with  him;  and  as  it  is  in  vain 
that  the  vessel  which  ought  to  launch  upon  the  waves,  sj^reads  her  sails 
in  the  most  favorable  wind,  so  long  as  the  smallest  of  her  anchors 
attach  her  still  to  the  coast ;  so  it  is  useless  that  you  may  be  disposed  to 
leave  the  world,  that  you  should  have  made  solemn  preparations  for 
doing  so  in  the  view  of  the  church,  so  long  as  this  lust,  this  habit,  this 
hidden  interest,  this  secret  bond,  remains  unbroken. 

Raise,  then,  all  your  anch9rs,  O  disciples,  who  wish  to  sail.  Loosen 
•your  hearts  from  the  impure  coasts  of  the  earth ;  nay,  if  it  be  necessaiy, 
tear  from  thence,  and  that  without  pity,  without  delay.  Do  so  at  least, 
if  you  are  willing  to  suifer  yourself  to  be  borne  along  by  heavenly 
breezes,  by  the  ever-favorable  and  never-failing  gale  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 
What  do  you  fear  ?  The  breeze  of  God's  grace  will  but  draw  you  from 
earth  to  waft  you  toward  heaven,  Daniel  resolved  in  his  heart  not  to 
defile  himself,  and  Daniel  held  his  resolution.  Why  ?  Because  having 
first  given  his  whole  to  God,  it  was  from  God  again  that  he  drew  his 
strength  and  his  courage. 

Again,  Christians.  WiU  it  suflice  to  the  child  of  God  to  be  assui-ed  of 
his  election,  to  have  surrendered  his  heart  to  God,  and  to  be  ready  at 
any  cost  to  obey  him  ?  Is  it  not  more  necessary,  is  it .  not  needful, 
that  in  every  circumstance  he  should  not  only  know  his  Father's  will, 
and  desire  to  do  it,  but  that  he  should  also  receive  from  him  by  the 
Spirit  of  Jesus  the  accomplishment  of  the  work  (see  Phil.,  ii.  13)  ;  the 
means,  the  ability,  to  do  that  which  the  holy,  just,  and  good  law  of  God 
requires  from  him  (Rom.,  ii.)  ?  Was  it  not  necessary  that  Daniel,  re- 
solved as  he  was  in  liis  heart  to  be  laithful  to  his  God,  should  search  his 
law  to  know  what  it  required  from  him,  and  that  he  should  implore  the 
aid  of  that  Spirit  of  life  and  of  holiness,  without  which  "  the  word  or 
letter  killeth  ?"  And  this  was  what  he  did,  for  he  knew  that  he  needed 
the  direction  of  the  one  and  the  assistance  of  the  other.  He  recalled  to 
his  mind  the  sad  end  of  that  man  of  God  who  visited  Bethel  in  the  time 
of  Jeroboam ;  and  who,  though  he  knew  in  truth  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord,  yet  miserably  perished,  because  he  was  disobedient  to  his  word 
(1  Kings,  xiii,).  He  thought  also  upon  Jehu,  who,  though  he  executed 
the  order  of  the  Lord  with  indefatigable  zeal,  yet  remained  an  idolater, 
because  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was  not  with  him  (2  Kings,  x.).  Daniel 
would  ponder  such  examples,  but  he  would  contemplate  also  those  of  a 
Moses,  of  a  Joshua,  a  Samuel,  a  David,  an  Asa,  and  a  Hezekiali ;  who 
were  strengthened  by  the  word  and  Spirit  of  the  Lord,  and  those  are 
they  whom  he  would  desire  to  follow. 


THE    PIETY     OF     YOUNG     DANIEL.  157 

You  would  be  faitliful  as  he  Avas  :  observe  him  at  the  decisive  moment 
when  lie  was  called  upon  to  confess  his  faith  ;  observe  him  searching  into 
the  law  of  the  Lord,  studying  it  day  and  night ;  see  him  penetrated 
with  its  a\ithority,  its  rigor,  its  perfect  holiness  ;  mark  him  listening  to 
the  requisitions  of  his  God,  that  it  be  kept  entire  and  unto  the  end  ;  and 
to  tlie  threatenings  pronounced  against  the  smallest  unfaithfulness. 
Then  observe  him  bending  the  whole  j^owers  of  his  soul  before  him  who 
said  formerly  to  the  son  of  Terah,  "  I  am  the  Almighty  God  ;  walk 
before  me,  and  be  thou  perfect."  See  this  young  and  valiant  soldier  of 
the  faith,  before  he  presents  himself  to  the  combat,  jDraying  to  be 
arrayed  in  the  impenetrable  armor  of  God  ;  to  be  endowed  with  pru- 
dence and  strength ;  with  courage  and  firmness  ;  and  with  that  entire 
devotedness  which  the  grace  of  God  alone  can  give,  and  which  must  be 
sought  by  frequent  and  earnest  prayer. 

Are  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  Satan  to  be  combated  ?  These  are  the 
weapons  of  the  warfore,  the  "Word  and  the  Spirit.  Yes,  it  is  arrayed  in 
this  armor  of  God  that  the  fliithfal  may  hope  for  victory.  "  Stand, 
tlierefore,"  says  the  Apostle  Paul,  "  having  your  loins  girt  about  with 
truth,  and  having  on  the  breast -plate  of  righteousness,  and  your  feet 
shod  with  the  preparation  of  the  gospel  of  peace,  above  all,  taking  the 
shield  of  faith,  wherewith  ye  shall  be  able  to  quench  all  the  fiery  darts  of 
the  wicked  ;  and  take  the  helmet  of  salvation,  and  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit,  which  is  the  word  of  God,  praying  always  with  all  prayer  and 
supplication  in  the  Spirit,  and  watching  thereunto  with  all  perseverance. 
It  is  thus,  "strong  in  the  Lord  and  in  the  power  of  hi:^  might,"  that  the 
Aviles  of  the  devil  are  to  be  resisted — that  flesh  and  blood  is  to  be  subdiled 
— that  the  world  and  its  lusts  are  to  be  surmounted — and,  in  short,  that 
we  are  to  be  made  victors  over  principalities  and  powers  of  darkness, 
and  over  all  the  cunning  of  our  foe.  It  is  in  this  strength  that  in  the 
evil  day,  in  the  hour  of  temptation  or  of  trial,  we  are  supported, 
enabled  to  persevere,  brought  off  conquerors,  and  that  we  receive  at 
length  "  the  crown  of  righteousness." 

Learn,  then,  why  you  have  been  bafiled  and  vanquished.  Yon,  my 
brethren,  who,  though  sure  of  being  the  beloved  of  the  Lord,  and  sin- 
cerely desirous  of  serving  him,  have  yet  so  little  followed  Daniel's  ex- 
ample, have  shown  so  little  perseverance  and'  constancy  in  your  efforts, 
so  little  devotedness  in  your  obedience,  and  so  little  integrity  in  youi- 
sacrifices. 

The  Avord  of  the  Lord  has  not  been  the  light  of  your  mind — it  has 
not  been  fully  adopted  as  the  resolution  of  your  heart.  The  Spirit  of 
Jesus  has  not  been  your  counsellor  and  defender.  You  have  scantily 
})erused  the  one — you  have  seldom  implored  the  other.  You  are  still 
feeding  upon  forbidden  meat — still  drinking  forbidden  wine. 

You  inquire,  perhaps,  what  are  these  forbidden  morsels — this  forbid- 
den  cup  ?     Or,  when   are  we   sure   to  partake   of  them  ?     Alas !  my 


158  C^SAR    MALAN. 

brethren,  I  reply,  the  table  of  the  prince  of  this  world  is  too  well  known 
— too  well  filled.  There  are  inducemeuts  offered  to  attract  and  to  sati- 
ate evei-y  appetite — every  lust.  There,  invitations  are  held  out  to  sensu- 
ality, voluptuousness,  and  luxury ;  to  intemperance  and  dissoluteness ; 
to  covetousness  and  egotism ;  to  ambition  and  ostentation  ;  to  pride  and 
arrogance.  There,  vanity,  lying,  deceit,  and  hypocrisy,  are  welcome 
guests.  There,  "  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the 
pride  of  life,"  are  invited  under  the  lure  of  pleasure  or  of  glory;  that 
they  may  glut  their  every  appetite,  their  every  affection,  their  every 
folly.  .And  there  it  is  ^that  the  spouse  of  Christ,  like  an  adulterous 
woman — yes,  that  the  church  redeemed  by  a  price  and  affianced  to  Jesus 
— takes  her  seat ;  sometimes  secretly,  and,  alas !  too  often  in  public ; 
there  she  is  found  partaking  of  the  cup  which  her  God  has  forbidden, 
and  which  he  has  styled  the  cup  of  devils.  There  she  is  found  to  her 
shame  and  to  her  sorrow. 

Great  is  the  crime,  great  the  unfaithfulness  of  these  wise  virgins,  who 
sleep  like  their  foohsh  companions  ;  who,  like  Jonah,  forsaking  their  own 
mercies,  give  themselves  up  to  lying  vanities  (Jonah,  ii.  8).  Such  lose 
at  once  their  own  peace  of  mind  and  strength  for  the  warfare,  and  lan- 
guish like  a  man  mortally  wounded  ;  knowing  nothing  of  that  solid  joy 
and  constant  blessing  which  Daniel  and  his  companions  found  under  the 
care  of  the  God  whom  they  served. 

III.  Mark,  again,  the  Consequences  of  Daniel's  Faithfulness. 

Daniel  was  not  put  to  shame.  The  Lord  was  well-pleased  with  him, 
regarded  him  with  favor,  and  gave  him  a  well-established  prosperity. 
He  had  said  to  the  prince  of  the  eunuchs,  "  Prove  thy  servants,  I  be- 
seech thee,  ten  days ;  and  let  them  give  us  pulse  to  eat,  and  water  to 
drink.  Then  let  our  countenances  be  looked  upon  before  thee,  and  the 
countenances  of  the  children  that  eat  of  the  portion  of  the  king's  meat ; 
and  as  thou  seest,  deal  with  thy  servants  ;  *  *  *  and  at  the  end  of 
ten  days,  their  countenances  appeared  fairer  and  fatter  in  flesh  than  all 
the  children  which  did  eat  the  portion  of  the  king's  meat." 

Those  who  had  with  simple  faith,  and  entire  devotedness,  put  their 
trust  in  Christ,  their  Saviour,  and  had  not  even  touched  the  uncleqji 
thing,  were  not  called  upon  to  blush  for  their  assurance.  They  had  leaned 
for  support  on  his  promise,  and  it  was  ^vitll  no  surprise  that  they  marked 
its  accomplishment.  Their  "  hearts  had  been  light  with  him,"  therefore, 
they  had  rested  sure  of  his  deliverance,  for  it  had  been  certified  to  them 
when  he  said  by  the  mouth  of  David,  his  servant,  "  Blessed  is  that  man 
that  maketh  the  Lord  his  trust,  and  respecteth  not  the  proud,  nor  such  as 
turn  aside  to  lies."  "  Blessed  is  the  man  whose  strength  is  the  Lord, 
who  feareth  him  and  delighteth  greatly  in  his  commandments."  "  His 
soul  shall  be  joyful  in  the  Lord,  it  shall  rejoice  in  his  salvation ;"  fof 
"  uiidemoath  him  are  the  everlasting  arms." 


THE     PIETY     OF    YOUNa    DANIEL.  159 

O !  how  perfect  tlie  peace,  how  profound  the  repose,  how  sweet  the 
confidence,  which  takes  possession  of  the  mind  of  a  believer,  from  the 
time  that  he  begins  to  honor  his  God,  by  placing  an  entire  trust  in 
him.  He  knows  that  the  eye  of  God  is  upon  him.  This  calms  every 
sorrow,  dissipates  every  disquietude.  He  has  the  witness  and  the  seal  of 
thy  Spirit,  O !  Almighty  Saviour  ;  which  whispers  in  his  heart  that  thou 
art  with  him,  and  that  thou  wilt  keep  him.  It  is  as  if  thy  hand  were 
[)laced  upon  his  heart,  filling  it  with  strength.  Yes,  happy,  happy  he, 
who  trusts  in  thy  promise,  and  looks  to  thee  alone  for  his  deliverance  ! 

Such  was  the  case,  and  such  the  happiness  of  Daniel  and  his  compan- 
ions. They  saw  all  their  prayers  answered — all  their  desires  accomplished  ; 
hut  above  all,  they  saw  the  name  of  their  God  honored,  and  his  law  mag- 
nified before  his  enemies,  and  before  those  Jews  who  had  preferred  the 
impure  table  of  Xebuchadnezzar  to  the  fiivor  of  the  Lord.  Believers, 
yoii  will  imderstand  their  holy  joy,  you  wUl  sympathize  in  their  re. 
joicing  that  the  Lord  was  served,  that  his  word  was  venerated  ;  that  his 
faithfulness  was  demonstrated,  and  that  it  was  manifested  before  many 
v.'itn esses,  that  the  "  work  of  the  Rock  is  perfect ;  for  all  his  ways  are 
judgment:  a  God  of  truth  and  without  iniquity,  just  and  right  is  he." 
(Deut.,  xxxii.  4.) 

For  what,  indeed,  was  the  object  of  these  servants  of  the  Most  High  ? 
Truly,  it  was  not  to  carry  a  cause  with  infidels.  Of  what  value  to  them 
would  have  been  the  esteem  and  the  admiration  of  those  who  feared  not 
the  Lord.  Neither  was  it  to  enhance  the  merit  of  their  virtue  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world,  nor  to  perform  a  something  which  might  feed  self- 
righteousness  and  self-complacency.  No  ;  such  unholy  motives  find  no 
harbor  in  a  heart  which  is  governed  by  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God.  But 
that  which  caused  their  joy  was,  that  God,  their  good  Father,  was  feared, 
was  obeyed,  was  loved.  Their  great  concern  was  that  the  praise  of  their 
liiith  might  be  rendered  to  him  "svithout  reserve ;  and,  looking  to  their 
future  course,  that  walking  in  the  light  of  his  truth,  their  filial  love  might 
ever  render  to  him  the  honor  due  to  his  majesty,  and  the  sacrifice  of 
their  entire  being. 

How  was  such  a  sacrifice  looked  upon  by  the  Lord  ?  Would  that 
faithful  God,  who,  as  the  apostle  has  said,  is  "not  unjust  to  forget  his 
children's  labor  of  love,"  (Heb.,  vi.  10)  that  good  God  who  graciously 
observed  the  integrity  of  the  sons  of  Rechab  and  blessed  them,  because 
they  had  kept  the  commandment  of  their  father,  (Jer.,  xxxv.),  would  he 
lightly  esteem  the  sincerity  of  his  young  worshipers,  or  falsify  his  prom- 
ises to  those  Avho  had  reposed  upon  them  ?  Ah !  no.  It  is  not  thus 
that  the  Lord  deals  with  his  family.  If  he  does  not  reap  where  he  has 
not  sowed,  nor  gather  where  he  has  not  strewed,  neither  does  he  leave 
forsaken  the  produce  of  his  fields,  the  precious  fruit  of  his  Spirit  in  the 
chui'ch.  As  he  has  sown  them,  so  he  causes  the  seed  to  grow  and  to 
vipen  ;  and  when  matured,  he  comes  to  gather  in  th*^  harvest  himself;  and 


160  CyESAR    MALAN. 

his  grncious  hand  raises  even  the  smallest  and  tenderest  ear,  that  he  may 
HOW  and  increase  it  afresh,  and  cause  it  according  to  his  pleasure  to  yield 
an  abundant  harvest.  Daniel,  and  his  companions,  at  first  preserved  their 
fidelity  during  ten  days,  and  those  ten  days  were  blessed;  then  God, 
adding  favor  to  fovor,  not  only  sustained  their  constancy,  and  strengthen etl 
their  bodies  during  their  three  years  of  trial,  but  he  also  gave  them  favor 
Avith  the  king.  The  history  tells  us,  "  at  the  end  of  the  days  that  the 
king  had  said  he  should  bring  them  in,  then  the  prince  of  the  eunuchs 
brought  them  in  before  Nebuchadnezzar.  And  the  king  communed 
Avith  them,  and  among  them  was  none  found  like  Daniel,  Hananiah, 
Mishael,  and  Azariah  ;  therefore,  stood  they  before  the  king." 

Such  was  the  issue  of  their  obedience.  /  Now,  it  is  for  our  sakes  that 
it  has  been  related.  Let  us  receive  from  it  a  lesson  of  holiness.  Shall  not 
such  examples  make  some  durable  impression  upon  our  hearts  ?  Shall  it 
l^rofit  us  nothing  to  have  considered  the  holy  and  loyal  conduct  of  these 
servants  of  God,  and  to  have  seen  also  the  honor  that  the  Spirit  of  God 
put  upon  it  ?  Shall  we  not  rather,  (knowing  that  this  beautiful  and 
touching  history  has  been  written  for  our  instruction  in  the  way  of  sal- 
vation), receive  into  our  hearts  what  it  is  intended  to  convey,  imploring 
the  Holy  Spirit  to  render  it  efficacious  ? 

If  this  be  not  our  duty  concerning  it,  why  should  it  have  been  re- 
corded ?  Or  what  benefit  can  result  from  its  being  preached  upon  ? 
'*  These  things,"  says  an  apostle,  "  wei'e  our  examples,"  and  they  cry 
to  us,  as  from  the  lips  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  "  Go  and  do  thou  likeunse." 

Go  then,  would  I  say  to  you,  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  go  and  do  like 
Daniel.  While  here  below,  you  are,  like  him,  placed  in  probation.  This 
is  a  time  of  trial,  a  time  of  preparation,  to  appear  before  a  great  King. 
Yes,  Christians,  before  the  King  of  Zion ;  before  your  Saviour  and  your 
God.  Like  him  you  have  a  trust,  and,  like  him,  you  must  preserve  it  in 
the  midst  of  temptations  and  of  snares,  and  despite  numerous  obstacles. 
The  resemblance  holds  further  ;  for  as  he  was,  so  are  you  in  yourselves, 
nothing  but  weakness  and  inconstancy,  having  in  your  hearts  nothing  but 
misery  and  sin.  Go,  then,  I  again  repeat,  and  do  as  he  did.  Let  your 
principle  be  faith ;  let  your  strength  be  drawn  from  the  word  and  the 
Sj)irit  of  the  Lord ;  let  your  hope  be  in  his  deliverance. 

You  are  surrounded  by  the  tempting  allurements  of  the  god  of  this 
world.  You  see  multitudes  around  you  thirst  after  the  empoisoned  cup 
which  he  presents ;  you  hear  them  boast  of  its  delights  ;  they  blame  you, 
they  rally  you,  they  hate  you,  if  you  take  not  part  with  them,  if  you  de- 
spise its  sweets.  But,  what  am  I  saying?  The  temptation  is  nearer! 
Your  own  heart  represents  to  you  the  sweetness,  the  charms,  the  attrac- 
tions of  lusts,  pleasures,  and  affections;  the  indulgence  of  which  is  so 
much  the  more  enjoyed  as  they  are  to  be  gratified  in  secret,  and  so  much 
the  more  imperiously  demanded,  as  you  have  made  them  fiimiliar  by 
yielding  to  their  claims.    And  with  each  temptation  offered,  comes  the 


THE     PIETY     OF     YOUNG     DANIEL.  161 

seducer,  the  old  serjjent,  Satan,  avIio  continually  suggests  that  the  gospel 
is  not  an  iron  law,  a  tyr;>nnical  yoke,  a  pitiless  restraint ;  that  Christian 
liberty  has  its  privileges  ;  that,  provided  the  heart  he  not  enslaved  to  its 
passions,  it  may  enjoy  them ;  and  that  within  certain  limits  the  pleasures 
and  the  enjoyments  of  the  world  are  not  forbidden — nay  that  they  are 
even  useful  to  the  children  of  God  ;  that  to  break  entirely  with  the  worltl, 
to  put  aAvay  the  so-called  charms  of  life,  to  "  mortify  and  bring  under 
the  body,"  to  discipline  the  heart  by  self-denial  and  abstinence,  would  he 
to  outdo  religion  and  to  render  it  ridiculous. 

Believers — you  who  fear  the  Lord,  and  desire  to  he  the  friends  of  Je- 
sus— what  will  you  do  ?  Will  you  grieve  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  by 
whom  you  are  sealed,  in  renouncing  your  i-ank,  in  derogating  from  your 
celestial  dignity  ?  Will  you  forget  that  you  bear  upon  you  the  name  of  the 
Holy  Trhiity — that  you  have  been  sprinkled  with  the  blood  of  the  Lamb, 
and  made  recipients  of  the  Spirit  of  grace?  Will  you  not,  rather,  like 
Daniel,  supporting  your  whole  soul  on  the  promise  of  the  Lord,  deter- 
mine within  yourself,  and  proclaim  in  the  face  of  the  world  and  its  prince, 
and  under  the  eye  of  heaven,  "  I  am  Christ's  ?"  Temptations,  sins,  corrup- 
tions, uncleanness,  prevail  not  against  his  anointed.  Will  you  not  say  to 
these,  "  Depart,  depart  from  me,  for  I  bear  the  vessels  of  the  Lord  !" 

And,  my  brethren,  shall  not  this  assurance  of  your  election  lead  you, 
like  the  saint  of  old,  to  abstain  absolutely  and  entirely  from  the  meat  and 
the  wine  of  the  king?  Yes,  to  abstain  from  it  entirely  nnd  loithout  re- 
serve, for  this  is  the  requirement  of  God ;  this  is  the  holiness  that  his 
Spirit  exacts;  this  is  the  chastity  that  Jesus  expects  from  his  briue. 
The  loAC  that  is  acceptable  to  him,  is  the  love  of  the  whole  heart  and  soul- 
Are  you,  then,  friends  of  the  Saviour  ?  Stretch  out  your  hand  and  put 
from  you  the  cup  which  sin  presents.  Let  there  be  no  delay,  no  secret 
compromise  with  evil,  no  treason,  no  duplicity  of  heart  toward  him,  who, 
having  loved  you  with  a  perfect  love,  and  being  in  himself  perfectly 
holy,  desires  and  accepts  no  other  offering  than  that  of  hearts  freely  givei:. 
Is  not  t'he  thought  of  what  he  has  already  done  for  your  souls,  of  what 
he  is  still  doing,  and  of  what  he  will  yet  do,  enough  to  knit  your  whole 
heart  to  him,  and  to  fix  i;pon  him  your  every  desire?  Must  he  bestow 
still  larger  benefits,  in  order  to  gain  your  affection  and  gratitude,  and,  in 
consequence,  your  dcvotedness?  Had  Daniel  a  more  beneficent  God — 
a  Saviour  more  worthy  of  love  than  him  whom  you  adore  ?  Have  you 
not  the  same  God,  and  Father,  and  Redeemer  that  he  had  ?  And  if  the 
mercies  of  such  a  Lord  constrained  the  entire  love  and  obedience  of  that 
believer,  shall  they  not  have  the  same  empire  over  you?  O!  let  it  not 
be  with  a  reluctant,  scanty,  and  half-yielded  love,  that  you  rc\Ay  to  the 
claims  of  such  a  God. 

Again,  think  you  that  you  can  be  happy  in  a  sort  of  equivocal  service — 
in  some  sort  oi  middle  course  between  the  demands  of  sin,  and  the  yoke 
of  the  Son  of  God?    But  I  am  speakhig  of  impossibilities:  for  what  man 

11 


162  C^SAR    MALAN. 

ever  served  two  masters — ^loved  both,  pleased  both  ?  Think  you  that  a 
soul  ever  tasted  that  sweet  peace  which  the  Holy  Spirit  gives  in  com- 
munion with  the  Saviour,  in  any  other  than  the  path  of  holiness? 

Think  you  that  the  bridegroom  of  the  church  regards  his  spouse  with 
no  jealousy,  or  that  he  will  not  testify  his  displeasure  to  the  adulterous 
soul,  however  insignificant  be  the  idol  which  she  worships  ?  Ask  these 
questions  of  those  young  Hebrews  who  do  not  scrujile  to  feed  upon  the 
forbidden  meats ;  that  is  to  say,  of  those  disciples  of  the  gospel,  who, 
while  they  profess  to  be  Christians,  yet  hold  secret  ties  with  the  world, 
and  with  sin.  Let  them  lay  open  their  hearts  before  you  ;  let  them  ex- 
pose their  experience  in  their  undecided  walk,  their  equivocal  obedience, 
and  you  Avill  be  struck  with  fear  and  awe  by  their  uneasiness,  their  secret 
self-reproach,  their  habitual  languor,  their  spiritual  leanness,  and  the 
withering  state  of  their  souls,  which  neither  the  fat  meat  that  the  world 
offers,  nor  the  mixed  wines  of  their  own  desires  can  satisfy. 

I  am  well  aware  that,  in  the  judgment  of  the  flesh,  Daniel's  pulse 
would  be  esteemed  a  meagre  and  despicable  aliment.  "What  a  suste- 
nance !"  will  be  exclaimed.  What  foolish  abstinence !  What  health  or 
strength  can  that  person  expect  who  condemns  himself  to  it  ?  Thus 
reasoned  the  world  in  the  days  of  Daniel ;  thus  will  it  always  reason ; 
thus  will  the  pulse  of  the  gospel  be  despised  and  maligned.  This  will  be 
ever  said  of  that  food  which  grows  in  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  and  which 
hr  Spirit  presents  to  the  happy  children  of  his  house.  Yes,  the  bread  of 
heaven,  that  bread  with  Avhich  eternal  life  is  nourished  will  be  disdained, 
as  was  the  manna  in  the  desert  by  those  believers  who  are  not  willing  to 
submit  to  Jesus.  And  neither  coldness  nor  contempt  will  be  withheld 
from  those  who  prefer  it. 

But  what  will  be  the  issue  ?  What,  O  mocking  world  ?  what,  O  fear- 
ful disciples  ?  what,  O  unfaithful  Christians  ?  what  will  be  the  issue  of 
this  decisive  preference  of  the  saints,  and  of  your  reluctance  ? 

I  will  depict  it  to  you,  and  it  shall  be  by  flicts.  I  will  point  to  the 
faithful  young  Hebrews,  stronger  and  fairer  than  all  the  rest.  I  will  tell 
you  of  the  serenity  which  filled  their  souls,  of  the  sweet  confidence  which 
they  had  before  God,  and  of  the  certainty  of  his  paternal  favor.  On  the 
other  hand,  I  will  show  you  those  other  young  Jews,  who  had  followed 
a  different  course,  less  strong,  less  active,  less  powerful,  and  filled  with 
envy  and  shame  by  the  uprightness  of  their  bi-ethren.  Judge  between 
the  two  cases. 

But,  further:  look  at  those  true  Christians  of  the  present  day,  whom 
the  Lord  Jesus  calls  his  friends,  because  they  do  what  he  has  com- 
manded them  ;  because  they  abstain  from  the  unclean  viands  of  the 
world  ;  because  they  are  content  vrith  the  pulse  of  wisdom  and  holiness , 
and  judge  of  their  state.  Do  they  apj^ear  to  you  feeble,  melancholy,  or 
unhappy?  Rather,  do  they  not  proclaim — by  their  peace,  their  joy, 
their  habitual  calmness;  by  the  equality  of  their  minds,  ihe  purity  of 


THE     PIETY     OF    YOUNG    DANIEL.  1G3 

their  lives,  the  gravity  of  their  deportment;  by  their  cheerful  piety, 
their  unfeigned  charity,  their  firm  and  glorious  hope,  their  patience  and 
humility — that  their  souls  are  full  of  life,  that  their  support  is  truly  that 
\vhich  comes  from  God  ;  while  those  that  feed  at  the  world's  table  know 
neither  the  vigor  of  faith,  nor  the  comforts  of  peace,  nor  the  delightful 
serenity  of  hope. 

Draw  the  comparison.  Christians,  then  take  Daniel's  resolution.  Like 
him,  search  the  word  of  God,  that  you  may  learn  what  he  wills  from 
you.  Seek  the  assistance  of  the  Holy  Spii-it,  which  your  heavenly 
Father  has  promised ;  and  thus  prepared,  go  forth  to  the  trial,  nor  stop 
short  imtil  the  end  of  your  ten  days  of  life. 

For,  finally,  my  beloved  brethren,  it  is  not  long  that  you  wDl  have 
to  renounce  the  baits  and  allurements  of  the  world,  to  prove  yourselves 
faithful  to  Jesus,  before  he  introduces  you  into  his  presence.  The  span 
of  human  life  is  not  long  at  most.  The  three-score  years  and  ten,  or 
if  it  may  be,  the  foui-score,  are  soon  told  out.  Season  quickly  follows 
season ;  one  Avinter  rapidly  ensues  upon  another ;  the  ciphers  which 
name  the  year  oft  change  their  form  and  signification.  The  father 
quickly  sees  his  sons  reach  his  own  stature ;  their  children  again  sur- 
i-ounding  them,  and  this  rising  generation  leading  his  own,  as  it  were,  to 
the  tomb.  From  moment  to  moment,  all  that  surrounds  us,  all  in  which 
we  play  a  jjart  is  changing,  fading,  dying.  Scarcely  has  life's  day 
dawned,  when  its  noon  has  arrived:  its  noon  is  passed,  the  shadows  of 
eve  draw  on,  and  night  falls — "the  night  wherein  no  man  can  walk." 

O !  who  among  you  will  be  wise,  and  consider  how  short  his  time 
is  ?  Look  forward,  I  pray  you,  look  forward  to  the  approaching  time, 
w^hen  the  ten  days,  or  three  years,  of  life  and  of  probation  shall  be  passed  ; 
when  you  will  be  called  upon  to  appear  before  God,  before  the  King, 
before  that  Jesus  who  has  shed  his  blood  for  you,  and  who  says  to  you : 
"  Surely  I  come  quickly." 

Tliink,  O  think  seriously,  and  with  solemnity,  my  brethren,  how  you 
would  desire  to  have  passed  these  few  years  of  probation,  during  which 
you  are  commanded  to  renounce  the  evils  of  the  world,  and  to  give 
yourselves  up  to  the  leading  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  think,  I  say,  how  you 
would  wish  to  have  passed  them  when  time  shall  be  no  more  ;  when  your 
years  and  days  shall  be  numbered,  when  the  short  journey  of  life  shall 
be  over,  and  eternity  shall  burst  upon  your  soul. 

O !  think  of  this,  and  consider  Avhether  it  is  not  right  toward  God — 
whether  it  is  not  for  your  own  happiness,  in  every  way,  even  with  respect 
to  this  world,  and  above  all,  with  respect  to  eternity — that  before  you 
are  called  to  appear  before  him,  while  a  day  of  grace  is  still  vouchsafed, 
you  purpose  in  your  hearts  not  to  defile  yourselves  with  the  meat  or 
the  wine  of  this  world,  but,  like  Daniel,  honor  the  Saviour  in  taking  upon 
you  his  commands ! 


DISCOURSE    XIII. 

ADOLPHE    MONOD,    D.D.* 

Dr.  Monod  was  a  son  of  the  late  Rev.  John  Monod,  of  Paris.  He  had  seveii 
brothers  and  three  sisters,  all  of  whom,  it  is  believed,  survive  him.  Three  of  liis 
brothers  are  in  the  ministry  of  the  gospel — all  evangelical,  faithful,  and  most  highly 
esteemed  brethren.  The  oldest  is  the  Rev.  Dr.  Frederic  Monod,  who  is  pastor  of 
one  of  the  churches  in  Paris  connected  with  the  Free  Church  of  France.  The  Rev. 
William  Monod,  another  brother,  is  now  pastor  of  a  Protestant  church  in  Paris. 
The  youngest  brother  is  the  Rev.  Horace  Monod,  one  of  the  French  pastors  at  Mar- 
seilles. 

Dr.  Adolphe  Monod,  as  well  as  his  brothers,  was  educated  mainly  at  home,  under 
private  teachers  and  professors,  and  then,  according  to  the  liberal  practice  which 
prevails  in  France,  he  underwent  an  examination  in  one  of  the  colleges  of  Paris, 
and,  paying  the  usual  fees,  he  received  his  diploma  as  Bachelor  of  Letters.  His 
theological  studies,  we  believe,  were  pursued  at  Geneva,  in  the  theological  depart- 
ment of  the  Academy  (or  University,  as  we  should  call  it)  of  that  city.  For  two  or 
three  years  he  preached  to  a  French  congregation  at  Naples,  holding  the  post  of 
chaplain  to  the  embassy  of  Prussia.  From  that  city  he  was  called  to  be  one  of  the 
pastors  of  the  National  Protestant  Church  in  Lyons,  in  France,  when  his  great  pul- 
pit talents  soon  made  him  widely  known.  He  was  even  chosen  president  of  the 
consistoiy  of  that  church. 

But  he  had  not  been  long  settled  in  the  church  in  Lyons  before  his  mind  was  led 
by  the  grace  and  Spirit  of  God  to  embrace  heartily  the  evangelical  system.  As 
soon  as  he  had  clearly  apprehended  Christ  as  the  Son  of  God,  as  well  as  the  Son  of 
man — as  the  only  Mediator  between  God  and  man — ^liis  preaching  began  to  partake 
of  the  glorious  change.  At  first,  and  for  a  while,  the  rich  and  worldly  church  of 
Lyons  to  which  he  (with  two  other  pastors,  men  of  a  very  different  spirit)  minis- 
tered, were  astonished.  Soon  dissatisfaction  with  the  truth  began  to  manifest  itself, 
and  in  a  feAV  months  this  distinguished  but  humble  servant  of  Christ  was  compelled 
to  resign  his  p^ace,  and  open  an  independent  chapel,  on  truly  evangelical  principles. 
About  seventy  people,  mostly  poor  but  pious  persons,  followed  him.  He  com- 
menced his  labors  in  a  large  room  in  the  third  story  of  a  private  house.  Soon  it 
was  filled  to  overflowing.    It  was  again  and  again  enlarged,  until  it  held  nearly  four 

*  The  name  of  Dr.  Monod  was  on  the  list  of  French  preachers  at  the  time  of  commenc- 
ing the  preparation  of  this  work.  He  has  since  deceased ;  but  we  should  not  be  justified 
in  leaving  his  place  unfilled.  Especial  indebtedness  is  acknowledged,  in  making  up  this 
sketch,  to  a  letter  from  Dr.  Roljert  Baird,  published  shortly  after  Dr.  Mcnod's  death.  Some 
of  the  facts  have  been  drawn  from  other  sources. 


ADOLPHE     MONOD.  165 

hundred  people.  As  it  could  be  enlarged  no  more,  it  was  resolved  to  build  a  chapel 
or  church  in  a  more  central  part  of  the  city. 

Such  was  the  commencement  of  the  evangeHcal  movement  in  Lyons,  in  which 
city  and  its  immediate  vicinity  there  are  now  nine  or  ten  evangeHcal  Protestant 
chapels,  three  evangeHcal  ministers,  and  a  goodly  staff  of  evangelists,  colporteurs, 
and  pious  school-masters  and  school-mistresses. 

From  Lyons,  Dr.  Monod  was  called,  in  1836,  to  the  Theological  Seminary  at 
Montauban,  where  he  became  Professor  of  Sacred  Eloquence.  This  appointment 
he  received  from  the  hands  of  Baron  Pettit,  a  Protestant  nobleman  of  evangelical 
sentiments,  who  was  for  a  considerable  period  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  in  the 
reign  of  Louis  Philippe.  For  several  years  Dr.  Monod  filled  with  great  abiHty  the 
professorship  which  he  held  in  the  only  theological  institution  of  the  National  Re- 
formed Church  of  Prance.  During  that  period  he  wrote  several  of  his  most  valuable 
publications.  In  his  vacations  he  visited  Paris  and  other  important  cities,  and  was 
always  heard,  when  he  preached,  by  great  crowds  of  people ;  or  else  he  made  mis- 
sionary tours  in  the  ancient  provinces  of  Saintonge,  Poitou,  or  other  districts  in 
southern  and  south-western  France. 

The  last  seven  or  eight  years  of  the  life  of  Dr.  Adolphe  Monod  were  spent  at 
Paris,  where  he  preached  the  gospel  with  great  effect  to  large  and  delighted  au- 
diences. His  labors,  and  those  of  Dr.  Grandpierre  and  other  distinguished  bretliren 
of  the  same  school,  have  done  much  to  make  the  evangeHcal  doctrines  known  and 
respected  among  those  who  attend  the  churches  of  the  reformed  body  in  that  great 
and  important  city. 

It  was  on  Sunday,  April  6,  1856,  that  this  honored  servant  of  Christ  ceased  from 
his  labors.  His  death-bed  was  one  of  intense  suffering,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of 
glorious  and  gracious  triumph.  In  the  full  and  perfect  assurance  of  his  salvation 
through  Christ,  and  in  peace,  be  commended  his  spirit  into  the  hands  of  his  heavenly 
Father.  A  few  days  previous  to  his  decease,  he  was  Heard  to  say  :  "  My  ministerial 
labors,  my  ivorks.  my  preaching,  I  reckon  all  as  filihy  rags  ;  a  drop  of  my  Saviour's 
blood  is  infinitely  more  precious.'" 

At  the  time  of  his  death,  he  was  not  far  from  fifty-six  years  of  age ;  and  to  show 
how  deeply  he  was  beloved  among  the  pious  men  and  women  of  France,  it  is  only 
needful  to  say,  that  while  he  lay  dying  in  Paris,  in  the  remotest  extremities  of  the 
nation  the  dispersed  Protestants  were  holding  circles  of  prayer  for  him.  French 
Protestantism  universally  wept  at  the  news  of  his  death. 

As  a  preacher,  it  would  not  be  asserting  too  much  to  say,  that  Adolphe  ]\fonod 
occupied  the  first  rank  in  France.  Although  not  a  large  man,  or  a  man  of  com- 
manding appearance,  he  was  nevertheless  a  prince  among  preachers.  His  voice  is 
said  to  have  been  melody  itself,  and  ever  under  perfect  control.  As  to  his  discourses, 
those  which  he  delivered  in  large  assemblies  were  almost  invariably  prepared  with 
great  care,  written,  and  committed  to  memory.  And  yet  his  extemporaneous,  or 
rather  his  unwritten  sermons  or  lectures,  were  represented  as  admirable  for  beauty 
of  style,  for  clearness  of  conception,  and  for  adaptation  to  the  occasion. 

Says  Dr.  Baird,  in  a  letter  written  several  years  ago,  "  I  have  no  hesitation  iu 
saying,  that  Adolphe  Monod  is  the  most  finished  orator  I  have  heard  on  the  conti- 
nent. Modest,  humblf^  simple  in  big  appearance  and  dress,  possessing  a  voice  which 
is  nmsic  itself,  his  powerful  mind  and  vivid,  but  chaste,  imagination,  made  their  in- 
fluence felt  on  the  soul  of  every  hearer  in  a  way  that  is  indescribable.  The  nearest 
approach  to  giving  a  true  idea  of  it  would  be  to  say  that  his  eloquence  is  of  the  natura 


166  ADOLPHE     MONOD. 

of  a  charm,  which  steals  over  one,  and  yet  i-  so  subtle  that  it  is  nor  possible  to  say  in 
what  consists  its  elemental  force.  It  is  an  eloquence  the  very  opposite  of  that  of 
the  late  Dr.  Chalmers,  which  was  like  a  torrent  that  carries  every  thing  away.  I 
have  often  heard  Ravignan,  the  great  Jesuit  preacher,  in  France  ;  and  Bautain,  by 
far  the  best  preacher,  in  my  opinion,  in  the  Roman  Catholic  church  that  I  have 
heard ;  but  they  were  much  inferior  to  Adolphe  Monod.  If  the  late  Professor 
Vinet,  of  Lausanne,"  he  adds,  "was  the  Pascal  of  the  French  Protestants  in  these 
days  (as  he  certainly  was),  Dr.  Adolphe  Monod  was  their  Bossuet.  But  Drs.  Vinet 
and  Monod  were  incomparably  superior  to  Pascal  and  Bossuet  as  expounders  of 
evangelical  truth,  which  is,  after  all,  the  highest  glory  of  the  Christian  teacher." 

It  is  well  known  that  the  late  Abbe  Lacordaire,  the  Dominican,  who  was  by  far 
the  most  popular  of  the  Romish  priests  in  France  in  his  day,  remarked  to  his  friends 
after  hearing  him :  "  We  are  all  children  in  comparison  with  this  man."  Beside  a 
strong  and  vivid  intellect,  what  the  French  call  onction  was  the  characteristic  of 
Monod's  preaching.  He  was  ineffably  impressed,  himself,  with  the  truths  he 
preached,  and  the  earnestness  of  his  soul  thrilled  every  tone  and  every  gesture. 

But  great  as  were  Dr.  Monod's  talents,  and  fascinating  as  was  his  eloquence,  these 
qualities  were  rivalled  by  his  unfeigned  piety,  his  profound  humility,  his  cordial 
friendship,  his  simple  and  truly  Christian  manners,  the  purity  of  his  conversation, 
and  the  uniform  cheerfulness  of  his  life. 

Dr.  Monod  is  said  to  have  left  sermons,  and  discourses,  and  essays,  and  lectures, 
from  which  several  volumes  might  be  formed,  that  would  be  equal  in  beauty  of 
style,  in  beauty  of  thought,  in  force  of  logic,  and  vastly  superior  in  true  instruction 
to  any  thing  which  Bossuet,  Fenelon,  Flechier,  or  Bourdaloue  —  the  so-called 
"  greats"  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church  in  France — ever  wrote.  He  had  published 
several  things  of  great  merit.  His  Introduction  to  the  French  edition  of  Dr. 
Hodge's  "  Commentary  on  Romans,"  his  '■'■Lucille"  his  " Femme''  (woman  in  her 
proper  relations),  his  "  Controversy  with  a  Romish  Priest,"at  Lyons,  his  "  Lecture  on 
Eloquence"  (delivered  to  the  students  of  the  Seminary  at  Montauban,  in  1840),  and 
his  "  Fugitive  Sermons,"  are  perfect  gems. 

The  discourse  below  is  by  far  the  most  celebrated  of  any  hitherto  published.  It 
has  been  translated  into  the  English,  both  in  this  and  the  mother  country.  The 
American  translator  (Dr.  Turnbull)  pronounces  it  a  masterpiece  ;  and  remarks  that 
it  "  contains  passages  of  as  pure  and  thrilling  eloquence  as  ever  came  from  the 
'lips  of  love.'  "  "  We  like  it,"  he  adds,  "  especially  for  its  profound  piety,  its  lofty 
truth,  its  earnest  and  affecting  appeals  to  the  conscience  and  heart.  It  is  fitted  at 
once  to  attract  the  admiration  of  the  critic,  and  win  the  sympathieii  of  the  pious 
heart." 

Not  a  little  labor  has  been  bestowed  upon  the  translation  here  given.  Advantage 
has  been  taken  of  previous  renderings,  but  neither  of  them  has  been  adopted.  The 
hope  is  entertained  that  it  wUl  be  found  to  be,  at  least,  as  fair  a  reflection  of  the 
original,  as  the  discourse  has  ever  before  received.  If  the  reader  enjoys  half  the 
pleasure  in  its  perusal,  which  we  have  had  in  preparing  it  for  the  press,  he  will  es- 
timate its  worth  far  hisher  than  the  cost  of  the  volume  containing  it.     The  title  ia 


ILE     ENDEARIN^G    ATTRIBUTE.  167 

THE    ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE. 

"  God  is  love." — 1  John,  iv.  8. 

In  a  Sinall  town  of  It.ily,  which,  eighteen  hundred  years  since,  an 
eruption  of  Mount  Vesuvius  buried  beneath  a  flood  of  lava,  some  an« 
cient  manuscripts,  so  scorched  as  to  resemble  cinders  more  nearly  than 
books,  have  been  discovered,  and,  by  an  ingenious  process,  slowly  and 
with  difficulty  unrolled.  Let  us  imagine  that  one  of  these  scrolls  of 
Herculaneum,  contained  a  copy,  and  the  only  one  in  the  world,  of  the 
epistle  from  which  the  text  is  taken  ;  and  that,  having  come  to  the  fourth 
chapter  and  eighth  verse,  they  had  just  deciphered  these  two  words, 
"  God  is^^^  and  were  as  yet  ignorant  of  Avhat  should  follow. 

"What  suspense  !  That  which  philosophers  have  so  ardently  and  vainly 
sought — that  of  which  the  wisest  among  them  have  abandoned  the  pur- 
suit — a  definition  of  God  !  Here  it  is,  and  given  by  the  hand  of  God  him- 
self, "  God  is  f" — AVhat  is  he  about  to  tell  us  ?  What  is  God  "  who  dwell 
eth  in  the  light  whereunto  no  man  can  approach,  whom  no  man  hath  seen, 
nor  can  see" — whom  we  "feel  after,  if  haply  we  may  find  him,  though  he 
is  not  far  from  any  one  of  us" — who  constrains  us  to  cry  out  with  Job, 
"O  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him!  If  I  go  forward,  he  is  not 
there ;  backward,  but  I  can  not  perceive  him ;  on  the  left;  hand, 
where  he  doth  work,  but  I  can  not  behold  him ;  he  hideth  himself  on 
the  right  hand  that  I  can  not  see  him  ?"  What  is  he,  that  all-pow- 
erful God,  whose  word  hath  created,  and  whose  word  could  annihi- 
late every  thing  which  exists — "  in  whom  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  being" — who  holds  us  each  moment  under  his  hand,  and  who  can 
dispose  as  he  will  of  our  existence,  our  situation,  our  abode,  our  circle 
of  friends,  our  body,  and  our  soul  even  ?  What,  in  short,  is  this  holy 
God,  "  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity,"  and  whom  our 
conscience  accuses  us  of  having  oflended  ;  of  whose  displeasure  nature 
has  conveyed  to  us  some  vague  impression,  but  of  whose  pardon  neither 
conscience  nor  nature  has  given  us  any  intimation — this  just  Judge, 
into  whose  hands  we  are  about  to  fall — it  may  be  to-morrow,  it  may 
be  to-day — ignorant  of  the  sentence  which  awaits  us,  and  knowing 
only  that  we  deserve  the  worst —  What  is  he  f  Our  rejyose,  our  salva- 
tion, our  eternal  destiny — all  is  at  stake  : — and  mcthinks  I  see  all  the 
creatures  of  God  bending  over  the  sacred  record  in  silent  and  solemn 
expectation,  of  what  is  about  to  be  revealed  concerning  this  question  of 
questions. 

At  length  the  momentous  word — ?o ye,  appears !  Who  could  desire 
a  better  ?  What  could  be  conceived  comparable  to  it,  by  the  boldest 
and  loftiest  imagination  ?  This  hidden  God,  this  powerful  God,  this 
holy  God — he  is  love  !     What  need  we  more  ?     God  loves  us.     Do  J 


168  ADOLPHE     MONOD. 

say  lie  loves  iis  ?  Au  in  God  is  love.  Love  is  his  very  essence.  He 
who  speaks  of  God  speaks  of  love.  God  is  love  !  O  answer,  surpassing 
all  our  hopes  !  O  blessed  revelation,  putting  an  end  to  all  our  apprehen- 
sions !     O  glorious  pledge  of  our  hapjmiess,  present,  future,  eternal ! 

Yes,  if  we  can  believe  /  for  it  is  not  enough  that  God  be  love,  unless  i 
we  can  say  with  St.  John  that  "we  have  known  and  believed  the 
love  that  God  hath  toward  us."  The  love  of  God  can  neither  console, 
enlighten,  sanctify,  nor  save  us — the  love  of  God,  indeed,  so  far  as  we 
are  concerned,  is  as  if  it  had  no  existence — so  long  as  it  is  not  "  shed 
abroad  in  our  hearts  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  and  "mixed 
with  us  by  faith.* 

As  spiritual  and  responsible  beings,  we  possess  the  glorious  but  fearful 
privilege  of  being  able  to  accept  or  refuse,  and  thereby  to  avail  or  de- 
prive ourselves  of  this  love  of  God — this  is  the  thought  with  which  I 
desire  to  impress  you  all.  O  that  I  might  send  you  away  moved,  pos- 
sessed, penetrated  with  this  thought — "  God  is  love  !"  Lord,  if  it  Ixi 
true  that  thou  art  love,  make  it  known  by  directing  my  tongue  by  thiti 
love,  and  by  opening  to  the  influence  of  this  love  the  hearts  of  all  these 
people ! 

True  love  not  only  declares  but  shows  itself;  or  rather,  to  use  the 
beautiful  expression  of  John,  bestows  itself  (l  John,  iii.  1).  .  Thus,  not 
content  with  telling  us  that  he  is  love,  God  has  proved  it  by  such  visible 
tokens  and  striking  facts,  as  change  this  affecting  doctrine  into  a  yet 
more  affecting  history.  Open  your  ears  and  hear !  Open  your  eyes  and 
see !  Nothing  more  is  necessary  in  order  to  lead  you  to  acknowledge 
that  God  is  love. 

It  is  not  from  creation  nor  from  natural  life  that  I  would  deduce  these 
facts,  though  each  is  full  of  the  love  of  God ;  for  "  the  Lord  is  good  to 
all,"  and  "  let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord  ;"  but  the 
proofs  that  they  furnish  would  be  insufiicient  to  persuade  us,  because 
marks  of  anger  are  united  with  marks  of  love  in  the  works  of  God  as 
Creator.  If  the  sweet  warmth  of  the  sun  fills  all  nature  with  life  and 
joy — if  the  majestic  rivers  pour  abundance  and  fertility  upon  our  fields 
— if  the  salubrious  breath  of  winds  refreshes  and  purifies  the  air  we 
breathe — if  the  earth  bears  and  nouiishes  the  human  species — have  we 
not  seen  this  sun  transform  itself  into  a  consuming  fire ;  these  rivers 
changed  into  devastating  torrents  ;  these  winds  into  tempests  which 
dash  a  hundred  and  fif'y  ships  upon  our  coasts  in  a  night ;  and  this  earth 
itself,  this  stable  eartt  into  a  moving  mass,  which  in  a  day,  in  an  hour, 
in  a  moment,  hath  swallowed  Tjp  a  city  and  swept  it  from  beneath  the 
heavens?  If  the  domestic  hearth  has  its  dear  delights,  its  tender  endear- 
ments, its  fond  partner,  and  our  other  selves  in  whom  wo  live  again,  the 

*  Heb.,  iv.  2.  By  feith,  tho  word  of  God  penetrates  our  hearts  and  unites  itself  with  them 
as  food,  which,  entering  the  body,  assimilates  to  its  substance.  The  rendering  tiiat  I  have 
adopted  is  at  once  more  literal  ami  more  clear  than  that  of  our  versions. 


THE     EXDEARINa    ATTRIBUTE.  1(59 

cares  of  an  infant,  and  the  smile  of  a  mother — alas !  has  it  not  also  cruc) 
pains,  the  storms  of  passion,  the  privations  of  poverty,  the  agonies  of 
sickness,  antl,  sooner  or  later,  death,  which,  even  before  it  puts  an  end 
to  our  enjoyments,  freezes  them,  yet  living,  by  the  fear  of  seeing  them 
daily  slip  from  our  feeble  grasp  ? 

True  it  is  that,  if  we  are  at  the  pains  to  separate  these  contradictory 
evidences,  in  order  to  ascertain  what  belongs  to  the  Creator  and  what 
to  the  creature,  we  shall  find  that  the  marks  of  anger  formed  no  pait  of 
the  plan  of  creation,  and  that  the  work  of  God,  as  it  came  from  his  hands, 
and  yet  unsullied  by  man,  was  as  resplendent  with  love  as  is  the  sun  with 
light.  What  love  in  the  work  of  those  six  days,  the  history  of  each  of 
which,  in  Moses'  account,  concludes  with  the  Avoi'ds,  "and  God  saw  that 
it  was  good  !"  and  the  last  with  these,  "  and  God  saw  all  that  he  had 
made,  and,  behold,  it  was  very  good  !"  What  love  in  the  light  of 
heaven,  in  the  fruitful  earth,  in  the  order  of  the  seasons,  in  the  lamps  of 
the  firmament,  in  the  living  myriads,  which  people  and  animate  the 
whole  creation !  What  love  in  man,  formed  in  the  image  of  God, 
capable  of  thought,  of  speech,  of  love  !  Conceive  wdiat  love  in  the 
words,  "  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness !"  What 
love  in  Eden — that  abode  of  delights — and  in  the  week  which  man 
divided,  in  imitation  of  God  himself,  between  labor  so  easy  and  repose 
so  sweet !  What  love  in  woman  formed  out  of  Adam's  side — in  their 
union  at  once  so  tender  and  so  pure,  and  in  all  their  simple  happiness, 
which,  quite  unknown  to  us  as  it  is,  lingers  in  the  depths  of  our  hearts  a 
vague  and  mournful  remembrance  !  What  love  even  in  that  tree  of  the 
knowledge  of  good  and  evil,  by  which  God  tried  our  first  parents,  and 
which  would,  had  they  remained  faithful,  have  changed  their  infantine 
innocence  into  an  obedience  of  reflection  and  freedom  !  Ah,  believe  it, 
could  we  have  interrogated  Adam  before  his  fall,  w^e  should  have  heard 
issuing  from  his  full  heart — we  should  have  beheld  gleaming  in  his  every 
look — the  exclamation  of  our  text,  "  God  is  love !" 

But  it  is  of  another  love  that  I  would  speak  to  you — of  a  \o\e  with 
which  God  loves  you  to-day,  and  loves  you  such  as  you  are.  This  love 
I  would  lead  you  to  see  concentrated  in  a  fact — in  one  single  fact — which 
is  SufMeient  for  the  apostle,  and  which  will  equally  sufiice  for  us,  if  we 
rightly  comprehend  it.  "In  this,"  continues  St.  John,  in  developing  his 
idea,  "  ill  this  is  manifested  the  love  of  God  toward  us,  because  that  God 
sent  his  only-begotten  Son  into  the  Vt'orld,  that  we  might  have  life  through 
him.  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and 
sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins." 

But  at  the  moment  of  unfolding  this  doctrine,  in  order  to  show  the 
treasures  of  love  that  it  contains,  a  secret  fear  restrains  and  oppresses  me. 
1  know  that  here  is  a  profusion  of  love  which  might  well  astonish  and 
overwhelm  us  :  but  I  am  fearful  of  being  listened  to  with  coldness;.  Alas! 
if  I  must  tell  all  my  feeling,  I  am  fearful  of  speaking  coldly  of  it  myself 


170  ADOLPIIE     MONOD. 

As  the  daily  contemj^lation  of  uature  renders  us  almost  insensible  to  the 
beauties  with  which  it  is  radiant,  so  the  habit  of  hearing  the  gospel  has 
rendered  us  insensible  to  this  unspeakable  blessing,  which  all  the  powers 
of  our  soul  are  incapable  of  api^rchcnding  and  celebrating  as  it  de- 
serves. 

In  ordci'  to  arouse  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  an  ancient  philosopher, 
describing  the  wonders  of  creation,  supposes  that  they  were  for  the  first 
time  seen  by  a  man  who  had  passed  all  his  life  in  a  dark  cave  ;  and  strives 
to  delineate  the  impressions  which  such  a  light  would  make  upon  him.  I 
would  deal  with  you  in  a  somewhat  similar  way.  Let  us  inquire  what 
effect  the  gosjjel  (i.  e.,  the  good  news)  would  j)roduce  upon  the  mind 
of  a  heathen  who  heard  it  for  the  first  time,  having  hitherto  dwelt 
in  the  spiritual  darkness  of  gross  idolatry.  Or  rather  let  us  leave  hy- 
potheses, and  take  an  historical  fact.  The  Moravian  missionaries,  who 
carried  the  gospel  to  the  Greenlanders,  thought  it  right  to  prepare  these 
savage  minds  for  its  reception,  by  sjDcaking  to  them  at  first  of  the  gen- 
eral truths  of  religion  only — of  the  existence  of  God,  of  the  obedience 
due  to  his  laws,  and  of  a  future  retribution.  In  this  manner  they  passed 
several  years,  without  witnessing  any  fruit  of  their  toil.  At  length  on 
one  occasion,  they  ventured  to  speak  to  them  of  the  Saviour,  and  to  read 
them  the  account  of  his  sufferings.  This  they  had  no  sooner  done,  than 
one  of  their  hearers,  named  Kajarnak,  approached  the  table  at  which  the 
missionary  Beck  was  seated,  and  said  to  him,  in  an  earnest  and  affecting 
tone,  "  What  do  you  tell  us  there  ?  Repeat  that  again  !  I  too  would 
be  saved  !  And  Kajarnak  believed,  like  a  Christian,  and  died  in  peace, 
the  blessed  first-fruits  of  an  abundant  harvest.* 

Now  let  us  put  om-selves  in  the  place  of  this  heathen,  whose  conscience 
was  at  length  awakened  ;  and  let  us  endeavor  to  account  for  the  lively  im- 
pression that  he  received  of  this  gospel,  so  entirely  new  to  him.  In  order 
to  do  this,  it  is  only  necessary  to  follow  the  apostle,  step  by  step,  in  bis 
development  of  the  doctrine  in  question,  at  once  so  brief  and  so  full, 
which  we  have  just  i"ead.  We  there  see  at  once  that  sinful  man  may  yet 
have  part  in  eternal  life — that  God  has  sent  into  the  world  his  Son, 
clothed  with  mortal  flesh — that  he  has  delivered  him  to  death  for  the 
expiation  of  our  sins — and  that  he  has  done  all  this  for  us  gratuitously, 
"when  we  have  merited  nothing  but  his  wrath. 

The  fii-st  thing  that  would  bring  Kajarnak  to  acknowledge  that  God  is 
love,  is  tlie  enc?that  God  designed  in  the  gospel,  and  that  tlie  apostle  an- 
nounces in  these  words,  "  that  we  might  have  llfeP  Although  the  sinner 
may  have  merited  death  a  thousand  times,  God  desires  not  his  death  but 
rather  that  he  should  live.  He  has  declared  it — he  has  sworn  it  by  him- 
self: "  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the 
wicked  ;  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his  Avay  and  live  !"  The  more 
clearly  is  developed  to  Kajarnak  this  life  that  God  would  give  to  the 
*  Cranz  Gesohichte,  p.  490. — History  of  Greenland. 


THE     EXDEARIXG     ATTRIBUTE.  171 

sinner,  the  more  is  he  surprised,  delighted,  ravished  with  such  love.  This 
Hfe  is  a  life  of  grace  ;  it  is  the  pardon  of  all  his  offenses,  a  pardon  which 
blots  out — which  takes  away  all  sin.  "  To  take  aioay  my  sin,''^  saith  this 
simple-hearted  man  to  himself,  "  what  language !  When  I  have  stained 
my  hands  Avith  the  blood  of  mine  enemy,  I  have  washed  it  out  with  the 
water  of  the  sea,  or  wuth  the  snow  of  heaven !  but  to  take  away  sin  from 
my  conscience,  and  to  restore  to  me  the  peace  that  I  had  before  I  com- 
mitted it — lohat  grace!  lohat  love  !  This  life  is  the  life  of  heaven  ;  it  h 
the  possession  of  the  glory  of  God  in  the  abode  of  the  blessed,  and  in 
the  society  of  the  angels.  A  sinner,  such  as  I,  called  to  such  a  glory,  ad- 
mitted to  such  an  abode,  received  into  such  society — what  mercy !  what 
love  !  This  life  is  the  life  of  God  ;  it  is  the  Spirit  of  God,  it  is  God  himself 
dwelling  in  the  sinner ;  it  is  God  who  gives  himself  to  him,  who  imites 
hiiBself  to  him  ;  is  not  this  the  very  perfection  of  love  ?  God  making 
his  abode  in  my  heart,  as  in  the  sanctuary  of  his  choice — in  this  heart 
which  seemed  reserved  but  for  the  devil  and  his  angels.  But  these 
tidings — these  good  tidings — are  they  in  reahty  true,  can  they  be  ?  And 
the  law  of  God  that  I  have  violated,  and  the  word  of  God  pledged  to 
punish  the  sinner  with  de:\th,  and  the  justice  of  God  demanding  the  pun- 
ishment of  my  crimes — ichat  becomes  of  these?'''' 

It  may  seem  to  some  of  you  that  I  ascribe  to  Kajarnak  sentiments 
hardly  natural.  In  this  pardon  of  God  which  he  Avith  difficulty  believed, 
you  discover  nothing  which  astonishes  you ;  yoic,  satiated  as  you  are  with 
evangelical  knowledge,  without  having  received  the  gospel  into  your 
heart — you  see,  instead  of  marvelous  grace,  a  very  simple  thing,  which 
God  owed  to  his  creatures  and  to  himself  "  Is  it  so  great  a  matter,  then, 
to  pardon  ?"  "  Is  it  not  the  noblest  use  that  a  sovereign  can  make  of 
his  power  ?  and  how  could  less  be  expected  from  the  pei-fections  which 
we  ascribe  to  God  ?"  '*  We  are  doubtless  sinners ;  but  for  all  sin  thei-e 
is  mercy."  Such  is  one  of  those  popular  maxims,  in  which,  by  a  fearful 
confusion  of  truth  with  error,  men  employ  the  gospel  to  destroy  the  gos- 
pel. For  all  sin  mercy  ! — a  true  maxim,  a  holy  maxim,  a  divine  maxim, 
if  you  say  with  astonishment,  Avith  delight,  and  as  a  thing  almost  incred- 
ible, "  Is  it,  then,  true  that  there  is  a  pardon  for  all  our  sins  ?" — but  a 
false  maxim,  a  sinful  maxim,  a  ruinous  maxim,  if  uttered  without  joy- 
without  emotion,  and  as  a  natural  consequence  of  the  perfections  of  God 
and  the  miseries  of  man.  "  Mercy  for  all  sin  !"  Ah  !  it  is  you  AA-ho  judge 
God  by  yourselves,  draAvdng  upon  you  that  appalling  reproach,  addressed 
to  the  most  Avicked  of  men  :  "  Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether 
such  an  one  as  thyself!"  For  you,  shapen  in  hiiquity,  and  conceived  in 
sin,  it  is  perfectly  natural  to  tolerate  in  others,  AAdthout  indignation  and 
surprise,  that  Avhich  is  second  nature  to  yourselves.  But  is  it  the  same 
Avith  this  God,  Avho  is  "  of  pur^r  eyes  than  to  behold  iniquity,"  and  will 
in  no  wise  spare  the  guilty ;  and  who  has  denounced  death  and  the  curse 
against  every  transgressor  of  his  conunands  ?   It  must  not — it  can  not  be 


172  AL  JLPHE     MONOD. 

that,  his  word  should  be  found  vain,  his  laws  trodden  under  foot,  his 
justice  disarmed  ;  and  God  would  no  longer  be  God  if  he  pardoned  in 
the  way  you  suppose.  Know  that  there  is  an  obstacle  m  the  way  of  this 
pardon — an  immense  obstacle — an  obstacle  insurmountable,  except  to 
him  to  whom  "  nothing  is  impossible." 

So  far  from  such  sentiments  going  beyond  the  truth,  in  the  case  of 
Kajarnak,  they  fdl  far  short  of  the  truth.  Kajarnak  is  still  too  little  en- 
lightened with  respect  to  the  divine  perfections,  thoroughly  to  appreciate 
the  difficulty ;  the  more  his  knowledge  increases,  the  greater  it  will  ap- 
pear. But  propose  it  for  solution  to  one  more  advanced.  Give  it  for 
explanation  to  that  sinner  who  has  long  labored  and  groaned  under  his 
guilt,  and  who  can  not  persuade  himself  that  there  is  pardon  for  him,  so 
deeply  is  he  impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  misery  and  of  the  holiness  of 
God,  and  you  would  hear  him  pray  thus  in  the  secret  of  his  closet :  "  Par- 
don rae,  O  my  God,  if  thou  canst  pardon  without  bringing  dishonor  upon 
thy  holy  law  !"  Give  it  for  solution  to  that  profound  theologian  who  is 
occupied  day  and  night  in  the  contemplation  of  grace — and  you  will  find 
him  writing  in  a  journal,  to  which  he  confided  his  most  secret  thoughts, 
"  I  would  not  desire  a  salvation  by  which  the  law  would  not  be  honored, 
and  my  sin  expiated."*  Nay,  more  :  give  it  for  solution  to  the  angels  of 
heaven.  Place  yourself  with  them  between  the  fall  and  the  promise,  and 
ask  of  them  a  method  by  which  God  might  pardon  without  ceasing  to 
be  just,  and  be '  merciful  to  the  sinner  without  sparing  the  sin.  Come, 
celestial  spirits;  accustomed  to  subUme  meditations,  and  wont  to  pene- 
trate the  depths  of  love  divine — task  yourselves  to  solve  this  problem  ! 
O  concentrate  all  the  powers  of  your  immortal  minds  ;  call  to  your  aid  all 
the  philosophy  of  heaven ;  search  ;  meditate  ;  ascend  to  the  third  heaven ; 
descend  to  the  deepest  abyss  ;  and  tell  us,  if  you  can,  a  method  of  par- 
doning without  ceasing  to  be  just,  and  of  forgiving  the  sinner  without 
conniving  at  the  sin !  But  how  could  you  discover  that  which  over- 
whelms you  with  amazement  ?  How  could  you  foresee  the  design  of 
God  in  the  gospel,  Avhen  the  Holy  Spirit  represents  you  as  bending  over 
this  scheme,  as  the  cherubim  over  the  ark,  and  as  never  able  to  satisfy 
the  desire  which  preys  upon  you,  to  "  look  into  it  ?"  Ah !  rather  keep 
-silence,  and  listen  with  us  to  the  voice  of  God  himself  from  heaven — "I 
have  found  a  ransom."  He  has  found  it ;  and  it  might  almost  be  said 
that  he  himself  is  astonished  at  having  succeeded  in  the  discovery ;  so 
wonderful  is  its  nature,  all  the  fullness  of  his  divinity  having  been  engaged 
in  its  solution.  He  has  found  it ;  but  he  found  it  entirely  in  his  own  bo- 
som. "  His  own  arm  hath  brought  salvation  ;  and  his  righteousness,  it 
upheld  him."  He  hath  found  it — "  glory  be  to  God  on  high,  and  on 
earth  peace,  good  will  toward  men."  This  God  who  has  found  the  pro- 
pitiation— this  God  who  was  so  resolved  to  give  us  life  that  he  as  it 
were  triumphed  over  his  justice  and  his  law — this  God,  is  he  not  love  f 
*  Memoir  of  Griffin,  by  Sprague,  p.  27, , 


THE     ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE.  173 

But  if  the  end  which  God  proposed  in  our  redemption  affects  the  heart 
of  Kajarnak,  the  means  by  which  he  gains  that  end,  aftect  him  still  more 
God  has  found  a  propitiation — and  heJiold  that  propitiation  !  "  He  hath 
sent  his  only-begotten  Son  into  the  world."  God  hath  a  Son  !  What 
astonishing  intelUgence  !  Accustomed  from  our  hifancy  to  hear  this  Son 
of  God  spoken  of,  we  do  not  perceive  all  that  is  marvelous  in  this  one 
idea  of  paternity,  of  generation,  associated  with  the  name  of  God,  the 
Creator.  Kajarnak  is  much  more  forcibly  struck  with  it  than  Ave  are  ;  but 
the  pious  missionary  does  not  allow  his  attention  to  dwell  upon  these  mys- 
teries ;  longing  to  speak  to  his  heart,  he  only  touches  upon  them  enough 
to  make  him  apprehend  something  of  the  inconceivable  love  which  unites 
the  Father  and  the  Son.  The  very  name  of  Son  enables  him  to  perceive 
this ;  for  what  more  endearing  name  could  the  Holy  Spirit  choose,  to 
show  us  in  an  earthly  relation  some  image  of  this  eternal  love.  But  this 
is  not  enough  for  him  ;  to  the  name  of  Son  he  joins  others,  which  raise 
bun  yet  higher — he  is  "the  only-begotten  Son  of  God" — "his  own  Son" 
— "  his  icell-heloved  Son."  Onlij-hegotien,  bearing  a  relation  to  him  in 
which  no  creature  shares  ;  his  oion  Son,  truly  belonging  to  him,  begotten 
of  him,  really  and  not  figuratively — ^liis  icell-heloved  Son,  "  in  whom  he  is 
well-pleased."  O  !  what  force  and  simplicity  unite  in  that  expression  of 
our  Lord  :  "  The  Father  loveth  the  Son.''''  He  loves  him  and  communi- 
cates to  him  all  his  power.  "  The  Father  loveth  the  Son,  and  hath  com- 
mitted all  things  to  his  hand."  He  loves  him  and  hath  made  him  partaker 
in  all  his  designs.  "  The  Father  loveth  the  Son,  and  showeth  him  all 
things  that  he  doeth."  He  loves  him  from  eternity — "  Father,  thou  hast 
loved  me  before  the  foundation  of  the  world."  He  loves  him,  and  this 
love  of  the  Father  for  the  Son  is  the  everlasting  type  of  all  true  love — 
all  other  love  is  but  a  reflection  of  this  ;  and  the  highest  blessing  that  the 
Son  can  ask  for  his  dear  disciples  is,  that  "  the  Father  should  love  them 
as  he  loveth  him."  O !  who  can  tell  what  that  Son  is  to  the  Father  ? 
Who  can  describe  the  intimate  communion,  the  ineffable  love,  the  eternal 
dwelling  of  that  Son  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father  ?  Who  can  display  be- 
fore our  eyes  all  the  meaning  of  that  expression,  "  I  was  as  one  brought 
up  with  him ;  I  was  daily  his  delight  ?" 

Ah,  what  were  Kajarnak's  emotions,  when  he  learnt  that  this  Son  of 
God,  this  only-begotten  Son,  this  well-beloved  Son,  is  he  whom  the  Father 
sent  into  the  world — he,  whom  he  separated  from  his  throne,  from  his 
glory,  from  his  bosom — in  order  that  wo  might  live  by  him  !  If  the  Son 
of  God  be  so  great,  so  precious,  so  dear  in  his  sight,  what  are  we  then  to 
him,  for  whom  he  gace  that  Son,  so  great,  so  precious,  so  dear !  If  a 
commander  redeem  with  gold  the  captives  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy, 
is  it  not  because  the  liberty  of  his  companions  is  as  dear  to  him,  more 
dear  to  him,  than  the  gold  with  which  they  are  redeemed  ?  If  Abraham 
offers  as  a  burnt-offering,  his  son  Isaac,  is  it  not  because  the  holy  will  of 
God  is  as  dear  to  him,  more  dear  to  him,  than  the  life  of  his  beloved  son  ! 


17-i  ADOLPHE     MONOD. 

If  God  gives  "  men  foi  Israel,  and  nations  for  his  life,"  is  it  not  that  Israel 
is  as  dear,  more  dear  to  him  than  the  nations  whom  he  gives  for  their  de- 
liverance? If  the  Father,  then,  placed  in  this  alternative,  either  to  strike 
us  and  spare  his  only-begotten  Son,  or  to  deliver  up  his  Son  in  order  to 
spare  us,  actually  delivers  him  and  spares  r<s,  how  can  we  speak  of  that 
love,  except  in  terms  which  would  seem  extravagant,  were  they  not  jus- 
tified by  the  revelation  of  God  himself?  And  yet  he  delivers  him  up  ! 
he  gives  him ;  he  sends  him  into  the  world  which  sin  had  destroyed,  and 
which  he  only  could  save.  He  does  still  more  :  he  sends  him  in  the  form 
of  sinful  man,  in  "  the  likeness  of  smful  flesh,"  for  it  behooved  him,  says 
St.  Paul,  "  in  all  things  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren  ;"  and  because 
those  whom  he  came  to  save  were  "  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  also 
himself  took  part  in  the  same,  that  through  death  he  might  destroy  him 
that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil." 

Have  you  ever  reflected  upon  this,  my  dear  brethren?  "What  honor, 
is  conferred  upon  our  nature — this  poor  fallen  nature — by  that  Son's 
taking  it  upon  himself,  who  is  the  "  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory, 
and  the  express  image  of  his  person" — that  Son,  "  who,  being  in  the  form 
of  God,  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of 
a  servant,  and  was  made  in  fashion  as  a  man."  What  humiliation  for 
the  Son  !  What  wonderful  condescension  and  love  for  the  Father  who 
gave  him !  What  was  it,  but  for  the  "  King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of 
lords,"  to  be  born  of  a  woman,  to  drop  from  the  bosom  of  one  of  his 
creatures  upon  an  accursed  earth  !  The  Son  of  the  Most  High  to  ex- 
change the  embrace  of  his  Father,  for  an  abode  of  which  Satan  is  called 
the  prince  !  The  "  Mighty  God"  to  suffer  toil,  weariness,  and  sorrow  ! 
He,  whom  "  all  the  angels  of  God  worship,"  to  drag  a  body  of  dust  and 
ashes!  "The  Lord  of  Glory"  to  be  subjected  to  the  mfirmities  and 
humiliations  of  the  flesh  !  The  "  Heir  of  all  things"  to  sustain  a  perish- 
able body  with  perishable  food !  The  "  Holy  of  Holies"  to  be  tempted 
by  the  devil !  The  "  Prince  of  Life,"  to  submit  to  the  abasement  of 
and  the  tomb ! 

Observe  how  this  surprising  thought  inspired  the  Apostle  Paul,  That 
which  the  Lord  did  for  us,  he  did  for  us  alone.  He  has  done  nothing  of 
this  sort  even  for  angels ;  for,  saith  the  apostle,  "  He  took  not  on  him* 
the  nature  of  angels,  but  he  took  on  him  the  seed  of  Abraham."  O, 
what  love  is  that,  which  conceived  the  idea  of  bringing  the  Son  of  God 
himself  into  contact  \\dth  our  misery,  so  as  to  deliver  us  from  it !  The 
God  who  thus  sent  his  Son  into  the  world  that  we  might  live  by  him — 
this  God — is  he  not  love  ? 

But  with  what  commission   did   the   Father   charge  the  Son?    and 

what  w^ork  was  assigned  to  him,  in  sending  him  into  the  world  ?      He 

hath  sent  him,  rephes  the  apostle,  as  "the  propitiation  for  our  sins;"  and 

the  work  which  he  gave  him  to  do,  was  the  expiation  of  our  crimes  by 

*  Or  ratlicr  "took  not  hold  of  angels"  (i.  e.,  in  order  to  save),  Heb.  ii.  16. 


THE     ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE.  I75 

his  blood.  JSxpiation  !  a  word  common  among  us — a  doctrine  familiar 
to  all ;  but  what  a  word — what  a  doctrine,  for  the  catechumen  of  Beck  ! 
You  have  heard,  Kajarnak,  that  God  sent  his  Son  into  the  world  to  save 
thee  ;  listen  now  to  the  manner  in  which  he  must  save  thee.  It  was 
necessary  that  this  "  Holy  and  Just  One"  should  receive  in  thy  stead 
the  stroke  which  thou  hadst  deserved,  but  which  the  Father  would  avert 
from  thee.  "  All  we,  like  sheep,  have  gone  astray,"  far  from  God  and 
his  law ;  but  "  the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all" — mme, 
thine  !  Do  you  fully  comprehend  this  ?  And  then,  "He  was  wounded 
for  our  transgressions,  and  bruised  for  our  iniquities  ;  the  chastisement 
of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  Hear 
again :  "  He  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin,  that  we 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him."  What  say  you  to 
this  ?  Did  you  expect  it — would  you  have  imagined  it — would  you  have 
dreamt  it — that  an  oiFended  God,  in  order  to  wash  away  our  sins,  should 
shed  the  blood  of  his  otmi  Son  ?  I  could  show  thee,  in  those  far  and 
privileged  countries,  whence  this  wonderful  intelligence  reaches  you, 
men,  yes  whole  assemblies,  who  regard  this  as  a  very  simple  thing ;  but 
thou — let  them  even  charge  thee  with  exaggeration  and  enthusiasm — 
what  dost  tliou  say  to  it  ?  what  coiddst  thou  say  to  it  ? 

But  come,  follow  me  to  the  foot  of  the  cross  of  the  Son  of  God — It  is 
a  spectacle  which  we  must  contemplate  more  closely.  Behold !  the 
hour  is  come,  and  "the  power  of  darkness" — the  hour  of  which  the  ap- 
proach alone  caused  him  such  agonies,  that  there  fell  from  his  body  a 
sweat  of  blood,  which  flowed  in  great  drops  to  the  ground ;  but  the 
hour  which  the  Father  could  not  "  spare"  him,  if  he  would  "  spare  us." 
Abraham,  on  the  point  of  offering  his  sacrifice,  heard  the  voice  of  an  angel 
ciying  aloud,  "  Abraham  !  Abraham  !  lay  not  thy  hand  upon  the  lad  !" 
But  this  other  Abraham  has  no  power  to  arrest  the  arm  when  about  to 
strike !  That  which  he  did  not  requii-e  of  liis  servant,  he  enjoins  upon 
himself;  nor  will  he  stop  till  he  has  completed  the  sacrifice  !  Come,  rage 
of  hell !  Come,  fury  of  earth  !  Come,  wrath  of  heaven  itself!  Exhaust 
upon  this  innocent  head  that  the  Lord  has  delivered  up  to  you,  all  that 
is  dreadful  and  appalling,  and  fulfill  all  "that  his  hand  and  his  counsel 
have  determined  before  to  be  done !" 

Satan,  the  old  serpent,  impatient  to  fulfill  the  first  prophecy,  raises, 
with  hissings,  his  hideous  head,  and  "  bruises  the  heel  of  the  seed  of  the 
woman."  Vanquished  of  late  in  Christ's  temptation,  he  had  withdrawn 
for  a  time.  But,  behold  !  the  Father  permits  him  to  return — to  summon 
all  his  host  against  the  Son — to  enter  into  Judas  to  betray  him — into 
Caiaphas  to  condemn  him — into  Pilate  to  deliver  him;  and  though 
unable  to  overcome  the  Holy  One  in  the  desert,  he  was  able,  on  Gol- 
gotha, to  secure  his  death, ;  he  was  permitted  to  do  it,  that  to  Jesus  it 
might  be  given,  "  through  death,  to  deliver  those  who,  through  fear  of 
death,  were  all  their  lifetime  subject  to  bondage." 


176  ADOLPHE     MONOD. 

But  there  remains  something  yet  more  surprising.  That  this  forra«- 
dable  angel,  the  enemy  of  God  and  man,  should  furiously  attack  the 
Son  of  God-  and  the  Saviour  of  men — this  is  appalling,  but,  j)erhaps, 
to  be  expected.  But  the  men  whom  he  came  to  save — the  men  whose 
nature  he  has  assumed — how  do  they^  in  their  turn,  treat  him  ?  for  the 
Father  hath  delivered  him  into  their  hands,  and  "they  do  unto  him 
what  they  will."  They  treat  him — I  do  not  say,  not  as  the  Son  of  God 
— I  do  not  say,  not  as  a  king — I  do  not  say,  not  as  a  prophet — I  do  not 
say,  not  as  a  just  j^erson — but  not  as  a  man!  They,  worms  of  the  dust, 
compel  him  to  cry  out  under  the  weight  of  their  hatred  and  contempt, 
"As  for  me,  I  am  the  scorn  of  the  people  ;  a  very  worm  and  no  man !" 
They  sell  him  to  each  other.  They  value  him  at  the  price  of  thirty 
pieces  of  silver,  at  the  moment  that  he  estimated  them  at  the  price  of  his 
own  blood  !  They  surprise  him  at  night,  armed  with  swords  and  staves ; 
they  bind  him  ;  they  lead  him  from  Pilate  to  Herod,  and  from  Herod  to 
Pilate.  They  mock  him  as  a  king ;  they  clothe  him  with  scarlet,  and 
crown  him  with  thorns.  They  scoiF  at  him  as  a  prophet ;  smiting  him, 
and  saying  to  him,  "  Prophesy  to  us,  who  smote  thee."  They  ridicule 
him  as  the  Son  of  God  ;  crying  to  him,  "  If  thou  be  the  Son  of  God, 
save  thyself."  They  strike  him  with  a  rod  ;  they  spit  in  his  face  ;  they 
condemn  him  to  death ;  they  prefer  to  him  Barabbas  ;  they  crucify  him 
between  two  thieves  ;  and  while  the  greatest  criminals  call  forth,  at  least 
in  this  last  moment,  from  their  bitterest  enemies,  more  pity  than  rage,  it 
is  reserved  for  him,  upon  the  cross,  by  his  anguish,  his  cries,  his  prayers, 
to  excite  the  sneers,  the  irony,  the  scorn  of  his  persecutors  ! 

But  this  is  not  all — it  is  httle  in  comparison  of  what  remains  to  be  said 
— ^to  ichom  f — to  yoti  f  No  ;  but  to  Kajarnak — to  a  heathen — who 
ha^^pily  does  not  know  these  things,  or  at  least  does  not  know  them  as 
you  do,  who  know  them  as  you  know  the  fables  of  Homer,  or  the  histo- 
ries of  past  ages. "  When  the  Son  was  alone — alone  in  his  temptation,  in 
the  desert — alone  in  the  agony  of  Gethsemane — alone  upon  the  cross,  he 
could  say,  "  I  am  not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me."  But  what 
if  the  Father  should  abandon  him  ?  Against  the  rage  of  the  devil, 
against  the  hatred  of  the  Pharisees,  against  the  clamors  of  the  populace, 
against  the  cowardice  of  Pilate,  against  the  taunts  of  the  priests,  God  the 
Father  sustained  and  consoled  him.  But  who  shall  console,  who  sustain 
him  agauast  the  wrath,  the  curse,  the  terrible  justice  of  God  himself? 
This  death,  this  punishment,  this  body  broken,  this  dripping  blood — 
doubtless  these  were  a  part  of  the  agonies  of  the  cross  ;  but  the  bitterness 
of  the  cross,  the  cup  which  he  must  drink,  and  from  which  his  Spirit  re- 
coiled, was  something  beside  all  this.  Sin  being  laid  upon  him,  with  that 
which  follows  sin — the  Father's  anger — the  Father's  curse, — in  this  was 
the  bitterness  of  the  cross. 

Thus  have  we  seen  the  Father  "  heajjing  upon  him  the  iniquities  of  us 
all,  causing  him  to  be  "  made  sin  fcv  us,"  to  "  bear  our  sins  in  his  own 


THE     ENDEARING     ATTiilBUTE  177 

body  on  the  tree,"  cliarging  liim  \dth  our  transgression,  until  crnslied 
and  overwhelmed  by  the  burden.  We  have  seen  him,  in  order  to  deliver 
us  from  the  curse  of"  the  law,  making  him  a  curse  for  us,  "  pleased  to 
braise  him  ;"  putting  him  to  grief,  laying  his  hand  upon  him,  piercing 
him  witli  his  arrows,  and  leaving  in  his  flesh  "  no  soundness  by  reason  of 
his  indignation,"  no  "  rest  in  his  bones  by  reason  of  sin."  From  that 
moment  we  have  seen  him  finding  in  his  Son,  in  his  only  and  well-beloved 
Son,  nothing  but  a  sjiectacle  which  repels  his  holy  ijiajesty,  removing 
himself  "  far  from  his  help  and  from  the  words  of  his  groaning,"  "  Aveary 
with  crying,"  his  strength  consumed,  wasting  with  burning  thirst,  and 
failing  eyes,  and  finally  constrained  to  cry  out  in  anguish — "  Eli,  Eli,  lama 
Sabacthani — my  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?"  Can  this 
still  leave  your  eye  dry  and  your  heart  cold  ?  Give  me,  then,  another 
audience !  Give  me  for  hearers  Greenlanders,  Pagans  and  Jews  who  for 
the  first  time  hear  these  wonders  of  love,  and  I  will  show  them  moved, 
penetrated  with  contrition,  and  crying  out — "  What  shall  we  do  to  be 
saved '?"  Nay  more,  give  me  the  earth,  give  me  the  rocks,  give  me  the 
vail  of  the  temple,  and  the  sun  in  the  heavens  ;  and  I  will  show  you  that 
earth  trembling,  those  rocks  rending,  that  vail  torn  asunder,  that  sun 
hiding  his  face,  and  the  whole  universe  witnessing  of  their  grief  and  your 
indifference,  and  asking  if  it  be  not  rather  for  them  than  for  you  that 
the  Son  of  God  died !  Tell  us,  Greenlanders,  Pagans,  Jews ! — tell  us, 
earth,  rocks,  vail  of  the  temple,  sun  in  the  heavens,  the  God  who  sent  his 
Son  as  a  propitiation  for  our  sins — this  God — v^hat  is  he  if  he  he  not 
love  ? 

But  that  which  finally  breaks  the  heart  of  Kajaraak  is  the  cause  of 
this  love.  For  if  God  so  loves  us,  whence  comes  this  love  ?  As  for  ourselves, 
we  love  that  which  is  amiable — above  all,  we 'love  those  who  love  xts. 
Were  we  amiable  in  the  sight  of  God,  or  did  we  love  him  first  ?  No  ; 
"  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us."  "  God," 
saith  IvMJarnak  to  himself,  "  hath  sent  his  only-begotten  Son  into  the 
world,  as  a  propitiation  for  my  sins  ;  and  I — what  have  I  done  for  him  ? 
What  have  I  done  to  attract  this  love  with  which  he  prevents,  loads, 
overwhelms  me  ?  Where  are  my  titles,  my  claims  ?  Where  are  my 
works,  my  desires,  my  thoughts  which  could  have  excited  such  love  on 
his  part?  When  he  was  mindful  of  me,  when  he  extended  his  mercy  to 
me,  when  he  sacrificed  for  me  his  OAvn  Son,  Avhen  he  sent  this  missionary 
from  beyond  the  seas  to  testify  of  his  love  to  me,  yesterday,  this  very 
morning — what  have  I  done  ?  I  forgot  him,  I  offended  him,  I  trampled 
imder  foot  his  holy  laws;  I  have  lived  in  error,  in  rebellion,  m  idolatry, 
in  lust,  in  inalice,  in  falsehood,  in  theft,  in  crime.  Ah  !  I  see  nothing  as 
a  claim  to  this  love  but  my  sins — I  see  nothing  but  this  love  itself!" 

Yes,  Kajarnak,  you  speak  rightly;  and  the  more  you  learn  to  know 
yourself,  the  more  you  will  see  yourself  culpable,  unjust,  rebellious,  the 
"  enemy  of  God  by  wicked  works,"  deservmg,  in  short,  of  hell  and  the 

12 


178  ADOLPIIE    MONOD. 

everlasting  curse.  If  you  could  doubt  it  for  a  moment,  the  spectacle  of 
this  very  cross  which  you  have  before  your  eyes,  would  suffice  to  unde- 
ceive you  ;  for  if  it  shows  you  God  so  loving  the  sinner  that  he  hath  given 
his  only  Son  to  save  him,  it  shows  you,  also,  God  so  hating  sin  as  to  de- 
mand its  expiation  by  no  less  a  price  than  his  precious  blood.  The  same 
blood  measures  at  once  the  love  of  God  toward  us,  and  the  hatred  of 
God  toward  our  sins.  What  must  those  sins  be  which  have  exposed  the 
Son  of  God  to  the  rage  of  hell,  and  to  the  fury  of  the  world !  alas,  and 
to  the  wrath  of  heaven  !  What  sins  must  they  be,  when  God  could  not 
contemplate  them  in  his  own  Son,  without  overwhelming  him — his  Son — 
under  the  weight  of  his  curse !  The  most  terrible  manifestations  of  God's 
hatred  of  sin — the  world  submerged  by  the  deluge — ^five  cities  of  the  plain 
consumed  by  the  fire  of  heaven — whole  nations  exterminated  in  Canaan 
—the  thunders,  the  lightnings,  the  smoke,  and  the  earthquake  of  Sinai — 
all  this  is  nothing  as  compared  with  the  death  of  the  Son  of  God  upon 
the  cross.  Approach,  Kajarnak,  and  read,  in  the  agony  of  thy  Saviour,  the 
hell  that  thou  hast  merited  !  And,  notwithstanding  thou  wast  so  hateful 
that  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God  could  alone  reconcile  thee  to  God,  yet 
God  so  loved  thee,  that  he  shed  for  thee  his  precious  blood !  *'  Is  this  the 
manner  of  man  ?"  Thou  canst  love  a  wife,  a  child,  a  friend ;  but  to  love 
an  enemy,  to  persist  in  loving  him  till  thou  hast  conquered  his  enmity,  to 
sacrifice  for  him  thy  most  precious  treasure  when  he  was  at  the  height 
of  his  animosity  against  thee — hast  thou  ever  done — ^liast  thou  ever  seen, 
ever  imagined,  any  thing  like  this  ?  God  has  loved  thee,  not  for  any 
thing  which  was  amiable  in  thee,  but  in  spite  of  all  that  was  e\al  and 
hateful.  He  has  loved  thee  on  account  of  himself,  by  the  overflowing  of 
his  nature  ;  he  has  loved  thee  because  he  is  love. 

Kajarnak  is  not  the  only  one  aifected  at  this  thought.  All  the  sacred 
writers  have  but  one  voice  respecting  it ;  and  in  their  pathetic  descrip- 
tions of  the  love  of  God,  the  prominent  point — the  trait  which  has  pene- 
trated their  hearts — is  the  gratuitousness  of  this  love.  "  When  we  were 
the  children  of  wrath,  even  as  others,  God,  who  is  rich  in  mercy,  because 
of  the  great  love  wherewith  he  loved  us,  when  we  were  dead  in  sins, 
hath  quickened  us  together  with  Christ ;  by  grace  ye  are  saved."  And 
nJ  elsewhere  :  "  When  we  were  without  strength,  in  due  time  Christ  died 

for  the  ungodly.  For  scarcely  for  a  righteous  man  will  one  die  :  yet  per- 
advcnture  for  a  good  man  some  would  even  dare  to  die.  But  God  com- 
mendeth  his  love  toward  us,  in  that,  while  we  were  yet  sinners,  Christ 
died  for  us."  And  again  :  "  For  we  ourselves  also  were  sometimes  foolish, 
disobedient,  deceived,  serving  divers  lusts  and  pleasures,  living  in  malice 
and  envy,  hateful  and  hating  one  another.  But,  after  that  the  kindness  and 
love  of  God  our  Saviour  toward  man  appeared,  not  by  works  of  righteous- 
ness which  we  have  done,  but  according  to  hi&  mercy  he  saved  us."  But 
all  gives  place  to  the  expression  of  our  apostle :  "  Herein  is  love,  not  that 
we  love  God,  but  that  he  loved  us."     Do  you  feel  the  force  of  this 


THE     ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE.  179 

thought  ?  "  Herein  is  love  /"  That  which  we  have  seen  hitherto — a  pro- 
pitiation found  for  sins — the  Son  of  God  sent  into  the  world — this  Son 
delivered  for  our  sins— all  this  is  a  manifestation  of  the  love  of  God — a 
manifestation  so  brilliant,  that  it  obscures  all  the  other  exhibitions  of  di- 
vine love  that  man  or  angel  could  gather  from  the  whole  world.  But 
here  is  more  than  a  manifestation  of  love — here  we  have  its  very  essence 
and  principle.  God  "  hath  first  loved  us  ;"  and  if  the  greatness  of  this 
love  forces  us  to  exclaim  with  admiration,  "  God  hath  so  loved  the  world 
that  he  hath  given  his  Son,"  the  grahdto^isness  of  this  same  love  extorts 
from  our  humbled  and  broken  hearts  this  pathetic,  this  profound  expres- 
sion, "  God  is  love  /" 

Yes  ;  "  God  is  love."  This  alone  would  explain  the  fact  that  he  has  so 
loved — xohom  ?  angels  f  saints  f  No  ;  but  xis^  his  enemies — us  indi- 
vidually— me,  and  you  who  hear  me.  "  God  is  love  !"  Love  is  his  es- 
sence, his  substance,  his  life.  "  God  is  love  !"  Love  sums  up  all  his  works 
and  explains  all  his  ways.  Love  insjsired  him  to  the  creation  of  a  holy, 
and  to  the  redemption  of  a  fallen  race.  Love  prevailed  over  nothingness 
to  give  us  existence,  and  triumphed  over  sin  to  give  us  glory.  Love  is 
the  object  of  the  admiration  of  angels,  and  will  be  ours  in  eternity.  The 
thoughts  of  God  are  love  ;  his  will  is  love ;  his  dispensations  are  love  ;  his 
judgments  are  love ; — all  in  him  is  love.     "  God  is  love .'" 

But  the  heart  of  Kajarnak  expressed  this  more  fully  than  all  our  dis- 
course has  done.  At  the  sound  of  this  good  news,  we  see  this  heathen, 
if  we  may  still  so  call  him — we  see  him  hanging  on  the  lips  of  the  mis- 
sionary, his  heart  affected,  his  conscience  troubled.  He  exclaims,  "  What 
did  you  say  ?  Repeat  that  again — I,  too,  would  to  be  saved!"  And  where- 
fore he  rather  than  you  ?  Why  should  not  this  same  doctrine  which  has 
made  a  Christian  of  this  heathen  upon  the  shores  of  Greenland — why 
should  it  not  make  this  day  in  France,  in  this  assembly,  of  more  than  one 
nominal  Christian,  a  Christian  in  spirit  and  in  life  ?  I  have  asked  you, 
in  order  to  disturb  your  habitual  apathy,  to  put  yourself  m  the  place  of 
this  Greenlander  who  heard  the  gospel  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  ;  but 
be  on  your  guard  against  the  supposition  that  this  condition  is  indispen- 
sable in  order  to  be  affected  by  it ;  as  that  the  gospel  has  lost  its  vir- 
tue by  having  been  so  often  announced  to  you  ;  and  that  the  coldness  that 
we  lately  deplored  in  you,  is  a  necessary  consequence  of  your  position. 
It  is  a  necessity  of  sin,  of  negligence,  of  ingratitude,  of  unbelief,  and  of 
nothing  else.  Your  position  is  a  privilege,  did  you  but  know  how  to  im- 
prove it ;  and  you  would  have  the  power  as  soon  as  you  had  the  will. 
Tlie  gospel  has  been  often  repeated  to  yon?  Well,  then,  you  have  that 
M'hich  Kajarnak  so  earnestly  desired.  "  Repeat  this  to  us — repeat  this 
to  us."  You  have  had  done  for  you  that  Avhich  the  Apostle  Paul  Avas 
careful  to  do  for  his  dear  Philippian  converts.  "  To  write  the  same  things 
to  you,  to  me  is  not  burdensome,  but  for  you  it  is  safe."  Supply  the  want 
of  novelty  by  the  fervor  of  your  meditations,  and  you  will  be  in  the  way 


180  ADOLPHE    MON-QD. 

of  finding  in  this  long  forailiarity  with  the  gospel  a  means  of  being  better 
penetrated  with  the  love  of  God.  The  works  of  man  lose  by  being  ex- 
amined too  narrowly  ;  but  the  works  of  God — the  tokens  of  his  love — ■ 
above  all,  the  unspeakable  gift  of  his  Son — ever  transcend  our  highest 
admiration.  Neither  in  this  world,  nor  in  the  world  to  come,  can  you 
admire  them  as  they  deserve  ;  never  can  the  angels  themselves  do  so — 
vainly  strivmg  to  penetrate  their  depths. 

How  many  aspects  does  the  love  of  God  present,  which  all  the  sermons, 
aU  the  books,  all  the  meditations  possible  could  no  more  suffice  to  exhaust 
than  you  could  exhaust  the  sea  with  the  hollow  of  your  hand !  Now,  it  is  the 
depth  of  the  abyss  from  which  God  has  dehvered  us  ;  the  love  which  has 
rescued  us  from  sin,  from  hell,  from  everlasting  burning,  from  the  society 
of  the  devil  and  his  angels  !  "  Thy  mercy  toward  us  is  great :  for  thou  hast 
delivered  my  soul  from  the  lowest  hell."  Now,  it  is  the  number,  the 
immensity  of  the  gifts  which  accompany  that  of  the  Son.  What  love  is 
that  which  gives  us  "  grace  for  grace,"  life  eternal,  peace,  light,  strength, 
joy,  and,  to  sum  up  all  in  a  word,  "  the  participation  of  the  divine  na- 
ture !"  Now,  it  is  the  greatness,  the  fullness  of  tlie  pardon  which  God 
gives  us  in  Jesus  Christ.  What  love  is  that  which  destroys  sin,  which 
"  casts  it  into  the  depth  of  the  sea,"  which  removes  it  as  far  from  us  "  as 
the  east  is  from  the  west,"  which  requires  of  us  only  to  repent  and  be- 
lieve, and  when  we  are  fallen  on  our  knees,  under  the  weight  of  the 
divine  curse,  lifts  us  up  redeemed,  justified,  glorified,  saved  !  Now,  it  is 
the  new  aspect  that  the  grace  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  gives  to  those  sut 
ferings  of  this  life,  which  we  inherit  from  the  first  Adam  ;  the  love  that 
seizes  upon  all  the  fruits  of  sin,  makes  them  enter  mto  his  plan,  constrains 
them  to  increase  our  happiness,  turns  the  curse  into  a  blessing,  and  com- 
pels all  creatures,  even  our  enemies,  to  work  together  for  our  good !  Now, 
it  is  the  special  call  which  God  addresses  to  each  of  us,  to  induce  us.  to  re- 
ceive this  salvation ;  the  love,  which,  seeing  us  slow  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to 
come,  sends  us  call  after  call,  warning  after  warning,  messenger  after  mes- 
senger, and,  if  needful,  afiliction  after  afliiction,  knocking  continually  at  the 
door  of  our  hearts  !  Now,  it  is  that  firm  assurance  of  mercy  which  the 
Holy  Spirit  imparts  to  the  soul  of  a  Zaccheus,  of  a  Mary  Magdalene,  of  a 
crucified  thief;  the  love  which  renders  such  a  heart  capable  of  lajning  hold 
of  eternal  life,  of  a  resurrection  to  righteousness,  of  a  possession  in  para- 
dise, of  sitting  in  the  heavenly  places  with  Christ  Jesus,  and  singing  the 
triumphal  song,  "  I  am  persuaded,  that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels, 
nor  principalities,  nor  powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come, 
nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate 
us  from  the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord !" 

But  more  tlian  all,  it  is  the  love  that  has  given,  that  has  sacrificed  for 
us  the  only-begotten,  the  well-beloved  Son  !  It  is  to  this  that  we  must 
ever  recur :  here  concentrates  the  whole  heaven  of  grace  and  blessing. 
For  "  he  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all, 


THE     ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE.  181 

how  shall  he  not  vrith  him  freely  give  us  all  things  ?"  It  is  here  that 
Ave  behold,  luivailed,  "in  the  face  of  Jesus  Christ" — ^of  Jesus  Christ  cru- 
cified— the  love  hidden  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father.  It  is  here  that  the 
hea't  of  God  opens  before  us,  and  that  Ave  read,  as  in  a  book,  of  things 
unalterable,  that  no  mortal  tongue  can  worthily  express.  It  is  here  that, 
we  receive  a  new  measm*e  for  estiraatmg  that  love,  for  which  all  human 
dimensions  united  Avould  not  suffice,  so  that,  "  being  rooted  and  grounded 
in  love,  we  might  be  able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints  what  is  its 
height,  and  depth,  and  length,  and  breadth  ;  and  to  know  the  love  of 
Christ,  which  passeth  knowledge."  But  ah  !  vain  are  our  efforts  !  Xo  ; 
we  could  not  behold  it  unvailed !  Our  feeble  heart  could  not  bear  it ! 
No  mortal  man  could  see  such  love  and  live  !  Our  very  existence  would 
thereby  be  overpowered  and  destroyed !  On  earth  we  behold  but  its 
dim  outline.  And  if,  like  Moses,  we  ask  of  God  to  show  us  his  glory, 
he  -w-ill  make  all  his  goodness  pass  before  us ;  but  Ave  should  not  be  able 
to  see  his  face.  While  that  spectacle  is  revealed  to  our  view,  "  the  hand 
of  God  will  coA^er  us  in  the  cleft  of  the  rock ;"  only  a  \^oice  shall  sound 
in  our  ears — not  that  Avhich  Moses  heard — but  a  voice  still  more  sweet 
and  tender — the  voice  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  our  text — "  God  is  love .'" 
'■'■God  is  lovef" 

And  noAV,  what  response  Avill  you  make  to  this  love  ?  Will  you  re- 
spond to  it,  as  did  Kajarnak,  and  say,  "  I  also,  I  would  be  saved  ?"  I  do 
not  ask  whether  you  beUeve  in  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  declared  to  you, 
Tinder  the  authority  of  heaA'en :  3'ou  can  not  doubt  it.  This  doctrine 
commends  itself  by  an  evidence  too  clear  to  admit  of  doubt.  If  it  AA^ere 
not  true,  it  would  not  be  in  the  world.  These  are  things  that  "  the  eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  the  ear  heard,  neither  have  they  entered  into  the 
heart  of  man ;"  and  it  would  be  inexplicable  that  man  should  invent  a 
design  AA'hich  God  alone  could  execute. 

I  am  not  ignorant,  while  I  thus  speak,  that  the  very  greatness  of  the 
love  which  God  has  testified  to  us  in  the  gospel,  renders  the  gos^jel 
incredible  to  many.  God  giving  us  his  only-begotten  Son — this  Son 
assuming  our  nature,  this  Son  dying  for  our  sins — is  too  great  an  act  of 
love,  it  is  a  condescension  too  infinite,  to  obtain  an  entire  belief  in  hearts 
so  enslaved  to  selfishness  as  are  ours.  He  who  loves  not,  credits  not 
love.  IIoAV  can  Ave  belicA^e  that  God  has  first  loA'ed  us,  if  we  love  those 
only  AA'ho  love  us  ?  How  can  Ave  believe  that  God  has  taken  aAvay  our 
sins,  if  we  cherish  deeply  the  remembrance  of  injuries  that  Ave  haA^e 
received?  IIow  can  Ave  believe  that  God  has  given  for  us  his  only- 
begotten  and  Avell-beloved  Son,  if  Ave  are  so  slow  to  give  for  another — I  do 
not  say  a  dear  and  only  son — but  a  little  of  our  time,  of  our  painstaking, 
of  our  abundance,  of  our  superfluity  ? 

Yes;  only  reflect,  and  you  will  see,  that  AA'hat  excites  our  incredulity, 
is  tlie  very  thing  Avhich  ought  to  convince  us.  Hoav,  in  a  Avord,  could 
the  human  mind  imagine  a  prodigy  of  loA'e  which  altogether  exceeds  ita 


182  ADOLPHE     MONOD. 

comprehension?  How  conld  it,  invent  that  which  it  can  not  beUeve? 
Whence  has  it  derived  this  overwhelming  idea  of  a  Son  of  God  crucified 
for  our  sins  ?  In  what  unknown  region,  in  what  recess  of  its  meditations, 
in  what  depth  of  its  philosophers,  in  what  dreams  of  its  poets  ?  Ah  !  if  I 
had  found  this  system  of  the  gos23el  in  the  depth  of  the  desert — far  from 
the  prophets  who  announced  it,  far  from  the  miracles  which  have  attested 
,  it — I  should  have  at  once  acknowledged  it  as  the  work  of  God,  "  whose 
\ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  whose  thoughts  are  not  as  our  thoughts." 
When  God  loves,  he  loves  as  he  does  every  thing  else,  as  a  God! 
Would  he  manifest  his  power — ^he  divides  the  waves  of  the  sea.  Would 
he  display  his  justice — ^lie  sends  a  deluge  over  the  whole  earth.  Would 
he  manifest  his  glory — ^he  speaks,  and  a  world  arises  from  nothing. 
Would  he  make  it  appear  that  he  is  sovereign  Master — ^he  speaks  again, 
and  the  sun  is  extmguished,  and  the  heavens  are  "rolled  away  as  a 
scroll."  And  would  he  manifest  his  love,  which  is  "  above  all  his  works" 
— he  sends  his  Son  into  the  world,  and  delivers  him  for  our  sins. 

Cease,  then,  from  all  your  doubts,  from  all  your  sophisms,  from  all  your 
hesitations.  Do  as  did  Kajarnak  :  listen  to  your  heart,  and  you  mil  be  a 
believer.  That  heart — do  you  not  feel  it  ? — is  imprisoned  within  you  ; 
it  wants  air,  and  light,  and  life.  Set  it  at  liberty !  Exchange  the  cold 
and  lifeless  deity  that  you  have  served  hitherto,  for  this  God,  who  is 
love,  and  who  has  given  his  Son  to  save  you.  For,  what  other  salvation 
would  you  find — what  other  would  you  seek,  of  what  other  would  you 
even  dream — in  the  presence  of  this  exhibition  of  love  ?  What  claims, 
what  merits,  what  works,  does  not  this  ocean  of  love  sweep  away 
wuth  your  sins  ?  Will  you  weigh  your  virtues,  enumerate  your 
services,  count  the  "mites"  of  your  alms  in  the  sight  of  the  blood  of  the 
Son  of  God  floAving  for  you  !  At  this  sight,  cease  at  the  same  moment 
from  fearing  any  thing  from  your  sins,  and  from  hoping  any  thing  from 
your  works.  Hasten  to  cast  from  you  "  the  filthy  rags"  of  your  own 
righteousness,  as  Bartimeus  his  cloak.  Plunge  yourself  into  "  this  fount- 
ain which  is  open  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness."  "  Though  your  sins  be 
as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crim- 
son, they  shall  be  as  wool."  Come  to  him,  who  first  "  came  to  seek  and 
to  save  that  which  was  lost,"  and  who  gives  the  tender  invitation :  "  Ho  ! 
ye  that  thirst,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that  hath  no  money;  come 
ye,  buy  and  eat :  yea,  come,  buy  wine  and  milk  without  money  and 
without  price."  This  day,  then,  believe,  consent,  and  yield  up  yourselves 
to  God ! 

And  if  you  do  7iot  sm-render  yom-selves,  what  then  is  jom  mtention? 
Is  it  (permit  me  to  ask  you  a  question  which  suggests  itself  to  my 
mind,  and  which  faithfulness  forbids  me  to  withhold)?  Is  it  that 
you  base  upon  this  love  itself  a  secret  presumption,  encouraging  your- 
selves  in  your  incredulity  by  the  thought  that  a  God  so  full  of  love 
could  not  doom  you  to  a  miserable  eternity  ?     If  so,  we  will  not  stop  to 


THE     ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE.  183 

show  the  absurdity  of  such  an  expectation.  What !  when  God  appeals  to 
the  noblest  and  most  generous  instincts  of  our  fallen  nature,  by  a  love 
unmerited,  immense,  unspeakable,  do  you  defraud  yourself  as  much  as 
possible  of  the  object  of  such  a  tender  appeal,  and  only  dream  of  prevail- 
ing against  God  by  the  very  excess  of  his  mercy  ?  But  we  will  not 
dwell  upon  this  consideration ;  for,  on  the  supposition  just  made,  such 
language  would  be  uninteUigible  to  you.  We  will  say  to  you  but  one  /^ 
thing  more,  and  that  seriously :  it  is,  that  this  very  love  which  makes  you 
presumptuous,  ought  to  make  you  tremble.  Beware  of  comparing  God 
to  those  weak  persons  whose  injudicious  benevolence  encourages  and 
nourishes  the  vice  and  the  ingratitude  which  abuse  it — ^benevolence  un- 
worthy of  a  just  man,  more  unworthy  of  an  upright  magistrate — how 
much  more  unworthy  still  of  "the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  !"  '  The  love  of 
God  is  a  hob/  love,  with  which  is  associated  hatred  of  sin  ;  and  never,  I 
repeat,  neither  in  the  deluge,  nor  in  Sodom  and  Gomorrah,  nor  in  Egypt, 
nor  in  Canaan,  nor  on  Sinai,  was  this  hatred  so  strikingly  manifested  as 
on  the  cross.  If  you  continue  in  your  sins  and  your  unbehef,  the  love 
of  God  can  find  no  access  to  you ;  God  himself  can  not  show  you  his 
favor.  He  can  not  do  it  without  obscuring  his  holiness,  and  compromis- 
ing his  honor.  He  can  not  do  it — just  as  Jesus  "  could  do  no  mighty 
works"  among  the  Nazarenes,  "  because  of  their  unbehef"  He  can  not 
do  it,  because  you  "reject  the  counsel  of  God  against  yourselves."  "If 
ye  believe  not,  he  abideth  faithful:  he  can  not  deny  himself." 

But  more  than  this.  The  love  of  God  toill  find  access  to  the  un- 
believer, but  only  to  aggravate  his  misery.  If  you  persist  in  your  ways, 
the  time  -will  come  when  you  will  be  compelled  to  wish  that  you  had 
never  been  thus  loved;  because  the  love  of  God,  yea,  the  love  of  God 
itself,  will  leave  you  without  consolation,  without  excuse,  and  without 
resource.  Without  consolation  ;  for,  had  you  been  less  loved,  you  might, 
perchance,  hope  for  some  alleviation  from  the  reproaches  of  your  con- 
science and  the  bitterness  of  your  remorse.  But  how  will  you  find 
alleviation,  when  you  reflect  that  God  hath  so  loved  you  as  to  deliver  to 
deatli  for  you  his  only-begotten  and  well-beloved  Son  ?  What  dei)tli  of 
agony  in  this  thought  ?  to  perish  when  you  had  such  a  Saviour — to  have 
been  so  loved  and  to  have  come  to  "  this  place  of  torment !"  Without 
excuse  ;  for  if  you  had  been  less  loved,  you  might  have  attempted  some 
vindication  of  yourself  before  the  tribunal  of  the  sovereign  Judge.  But 
what  can  you  reply  ?  How  dare  to  open  your  mouth,  when  reminded 
of  how  nuu-h  he  has  loved  you,  and  what  price  he  has  paid  for  your 
redemption  '?  Weigh  Avell  these  words :  "  He  that  despised  Moses'  law 
died  without  mercy  under  two  or  three  witnesses :  of  how  much  sorer 
punishment,  suppose  ye,  shall  he  be  thought  worthy,  who  hath  trodden 
under  foot  the  Son  of  God,  and  hath  counted  the  blood  of  the  covenant, 
wherewith  he  was  sanctified,  an  unclean  thing,  and  hath  done  despite 
unto  the  Spirit  of  grace  ?     "  It  is  a  fearful  thing  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 


IS-i  ADOLniE     MONOD. 

the  living  God  !"  Fearful — and  why  ?  You  have  just  heard  ;  because 
of  the  very  favor  that  we  have  received  ;  because  of  the  love  that  God 
has  manifested  to  us.  Lastly,  and  above  all,  you  will  be  without  re- 
source. If  you  had  been  less  loved,  you  might,  perhaps,  have  dreamt 
of  some  fresh  manifestation  of  love,  sufficient  to  make  amends  for  your 
sins,  and  relieve  your  misery.  But  what  hope  of  this  sort  can  you  in- 
dulge, when  God  has  "  delivered  up  his  own  Son,  and  spared  not  even 
him  ?"  Can  you  expect  another  victim  to  be  sacrificed,  for  you  alone  ? 
— a  victim  more  precious  in  God's  sight,  than  his  only-begotten  and 
well-beloved  Son — more  glorious  than  the  "  brightness  of  his  glory,  and 
the  express  image  of  his  person" — more  efficacious  than  "  the  Lamb 
of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sin  of  tlie  world" — more  majestic  than  "  the 
King  of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords" — more  pure  than  "  the  Holy  One" — 
more  capable  of  delivering  you  than  "  the  Wonderful,  the  Counselor,  the 
mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace  ?"  No,  no  ! 
"  If  we  sin  willfully  after  that  we  have  received  the  knowledge  of  the 
truth,  there  remaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sins,  but  a  certain  fearful 
looking-for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,  which  shall  devour  the 
adversaries."  Thus  God  takes  us  to  witness  against  ourselves,  that  there 
is  nothing  more  that  he  could  have  done  for  us.  "  Judge,  I  2>i'^y  you, 
betwixt  me  and  ray  vineyard.  What  more  could  I  have  done  for  my 
vmeyard,  that  I  have  not  done  in  it  ?"  All  is  exhausted — exhausted  by 
love — and  the  resources  fail  only  because  the  love  of  God  has  already 
given  itself — given  itself  entire. 

It  is  necessary  then  to  say,  whatever  repugnance  we  may  feel  to  offer 
considerations  of  this  nature  upon  such  a  subject, — it  is  necessaiy  to  say 
to  those  who  speculate  upon  the  love  of  God,  and  who  reckon  upon 
profiting  by  it  without  believing  it, — that  the  love  of  God,  in  all  probability, 
M'ill  be  your  greatest  torment.  This  thouglit  is  not  new ;  many  theolo- 
gians have  expressed  the  same.  Perhaps  it  is  principally  this  love,  which 
will  render  your  regrets  more  acute,  your  unbelief  more  criminal,  your 
condition  more  deplorable.  Perhaps  it  is  this  love  which  will  make  mani- 
fest \he  justice  of  the  future  judgment,  and  which  ■will  exj^lain  the  mys- 
tery of  eternal  punishment.  Perhaps  our  text  will  receive  in  hell  a 
striking  though  fearful  confirmation.  Perhaps  the  love  of  God  will  not 
be  less  spoken  of  (although,  alas !  with  far  different  emotions),  in  the 
abode  of  the  damned,  than  in  that  of  the  blessed.  There  is  more  in  this 
than  mere  hypothesis.  Impious  wretches,  on  their  death-beds,  in  spite 
of  themselves,  forced  by  their  fearful  forebodings,  have  borne  witness  by 
their  blasphemies  to  the  love  of  God,  henceforth  closed  to  them,  but 
closed  by  themselves  alone.  The  Holy  Spirit  in  the  Apocalypse  reveals 
the  enemies  of  the  Lord  as  recognizing  him,  but  with  terror,  as  the 
Lamb  of  God,  and  saying  to  the  mountains  and  to  the  rocks,  "  Fall  on 
us,  and  cover  us  from  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  from  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb ;  for  the  great  day  of  wrath  is  come ;  and  who  ia 


THE    ENDEARING    ATTRIBUTE.  185 

able  to  abide  it  ?"  "  The  wrath  of  the  Lamh  /"  Strange,  appalling 
association  of  ideas !  The  wrath  of  the  lion  is  in  the  order  of  nature  ;  but 
the  wrath  of  the  Lamb  has  in  it  something  unnatural,  and  which  renders 
it  intensely  fearful.  The  more  opposed  it  is  to  his  character,  the  more 
evident  is  it  that  it  is  just,  that  it  is  j^rovoked,  that  it  is. inevitable,  Avhen 
it  is  displayed.  And  if  its  wretched  victims  recognize  still  the  Lamb  in 
him  who  strikes  them,  this  attribute  of  love,  will  but  extort  theii-  hom- 
age to  aggravate  their  terror.  Ah,  may  you  never  have  to  fly  before 
the  wrath  of  the  Lamb !  !May  the  time  never  come  when  it  shall  be 
your  greatest  calamity,  to  have  been  loved  with  so  great  a  love,  and  re- 
deemed at  so  great  a  price :  a  time  when,  discovenng  too  late  the  truth 
of  our  text,  you  shall  confess,  but  with  rage  in  your  hearts,  that  God  is 
love ! 

But,  tliough  we  thus  speak,  we  hope  "  better  thhigs  of  you,  and 
things  which  accompany  salvation."  Xo  longer,  we  trust,  will  you  close 
your  heart  to  the  love  of  God,  nor  live  without  faith  in  a  God  who  is 
love.  By  this  faith  you  will  save  your  soul — ^by  it  you  will  become  a 
new  man.  This  love  of  God,  ever  before  your  eyes,  will  impart  itself  to 
you,  and  renew  your  whole  being.  It  is  by  feeling  one's  self  loved,  that 
one  learns  to  love  ;  and  selfishness  reigns,  only  because  we  are  ignorant 
of  the  love  of  God.  "  He  that  loveth  not,  knoweth  not  God."  You 
will  love  a''  you  have  been  loved.  You  wUl  ]ove  God,  because  God  first 
loved  you.  You  will  love  your  neighbor,  because  God  hath  loved  both 
him  and  you.  Do  you  not  see  the  new  life  for  which  such  a  change  will  fit 
you  ?  I  see  you  a  follower  of  God,  a  dear  child,  henceforth  living  only 
to  diflfuse  around  you  the  love  wherewith  God  has  filled  your  heart.  I 
see  you,  according  to  the  examjjle  of  Christ  who  hath  loved  you,  "  going 
about  doing  good,"  and  finding  your  enjoyment  m  privations,  fatigues, 
and  sacrifices.  I  see  you,  "  constrained  by  the  love  of  Christ,"  weaned 
from  your  own  will,  from  the  love  of  money,  and  of  the  emptj'-  pleasures 
of  the  world,«consoling  the  aflSiicted,  comforting  the  poor,  visiting  the 
sick,  and  carrying  with  you  everywhere  Jesus  Christ  and  his  benefits. 
Then  will  the  image  and  likeness  of  God  be  formed  anew  in  your  souls ! 
— then  you  will  "  dwell  in  God,  and  God  in  you."  If  to  be  loved  is  the 
life  of  the  soul,  is  not  loving  its  enjoyment  ?  If  to  be  loved  is  the 
whole  doctrine  of  the  gospel,  is  not  loving  its  whole  morality  ?  To  love 
as  we  are  loved,  is  not  this  heaven  upon  earth,  while  anticipating  that  it 
shall  be  heaven  in  heaven  ?  Hajjpy  are  you,  if  the  love  of  God  so  pene- 
trate you,  that,  in  whatever  view  you  are  regarded,  no  better  descrip- 
tion of  your  cliaracter  can  be  given,  than  that  Avhich  love  inspired  St. 
J  ohn  to  write  of  God !  Happy  if  it  may  be  said  of  you,  he  is  love  ! 
his  words  are  love  !  his  woi-ks  are  love !  his  zeal  is  love !  his  labor  is 
love !  his  joys  are  love !  his  tears  are  love  !  his  reproofs  are  love !  his 
judgments  are  love!  Happy,  above  all,  if  that  God  "who  trieth  tha 
hearta  au.l  the  reins,"  can  add,  his  heart  also  is  love  !    Amen. 


DISCOURSE     XIV. 

J.    H.    GRANDPIERRE,    D.D.* 

This  celebrated  representative  of  French  Protestantism,  was  born  at  Neufchatel, 
in  Switzerland,  and  is  now  probably  about  sixty  years  of  age.  He  was  educated 
partly  at  Neufchatel,  and  partly  at  Lausanne,  where  he  made  great  proficiency  in  hia 
literary  and  theological  studies.  He  preached  for  several  years  in  Basel,  to  the  same 
church  which  enjoyed  the  services  of  Vinet,  while  Professor  of  the  French  language 
and  literature  in  the  University  of  Basel.  He  subsequently  removed  to  Paris,  where 
he  has  acted  for  years  as  President  or  Director  of  the  Missionary  Institute,  for  the 
preparation  of  young  men  for  the  work  of  foreign  missions.  He  also  preached  for 
a  time,  in  connection  with  the  pious  and  eloquent  Audebez,  whose  discourses 
are  distinguished  for  sound  sense,  and  evangelical  unction,  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Rue  Taitbout,  which  is  supported  by  voluntary  contribution.  Becoming  somewhat 
dissatisfied  with  the  management  of  this  chapel,  Grandpierre  re-entered  the  "  Na- 
tional Communion,"  and  became  the  pastor  of  the  church  of  the  Batignolles.  He 
now  holds  the  pastorate  vacated  by  the  death  of  Adolphe  Monod,  in  Paris. 

Grandpierre  is  a  man  of  distinguished  learning,  great  piety,  and  persuasive  elo- 
quence. He  is  the  author  of  a  volume  of  interesting  and  instructive  Lectures  on 
the  Pentateuch,  several  volumes  of  discourses,  and  various  tracts  and  disquisitions, 
chiefly  religious.  His  style  is  clear  and  elevated,  vivacious  and  elegant.  All  his 
discourses  are  pervaded  by  sound  sense,  elevated  views,  and  ardent  piety.  Equally 
practical  with  those  of  Monod,  they  are  more  philosophical  in  their  tone,  and  occa- 
sionally display  a  high  range  of  thought.  In  this  respect  they  are  more  akin  to 
those  of  Vinet,  though  less  powerful  and  striking.  He  reasons  clearly  and  calmly ; 
and  is  not  unfrequently  original  in  his  thoughts  and  mode  of  expression.  Three 
volumes  of  his  sermons  form  a  series,  under  the  title  of  "  Discours  EvangeHques :" 
the  first  being  on  Christian  Doctrine,  the  second  on  the  Christian  Life,  and  the  third 
on  the  Harmonies  of  the  Christian  System,  and  entitled  "  Unity  and  Variety,"  in 
which  he  brings  doctrine  and  practice  together,  and  shows  the  wonderful  adjust- 
ment and  harmony  of  the  whole  Christian  scheme. 

Grandpierre  is  said  to  be  tall  and  thin,  stoops  a  Uttle,  and  has  a  fine  benignant  ex- 
pression. Dr.  Stevens,  speaking  of  Grandpierre,  as  seen  among  the  "  notables,"  at  tho 
recent  meeting  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  in  Paris,  says :  "  Take  the  fine  cljissic 
contour  of  Wilbur  Fisk,  and  wrinkle  thoroiighly  its  integuments  with  care  or  suf- 
fering, and  you  will  have  a  good  copy  of  this  able  Frenchman's  features.     Most  of 

*  We  have  been  able  to  obtain  few  materials  for  this  sketch  bej'ond  those  contaiued 
in  Tumbnll's  "  Tulpit  Orators  of  France  and  Switzerland."  To  this  source  our  obligations  ara 
cheerfully  acknowledged. 


THE    TEAES    OF    JESUS.  187 

these  Protestant  leaders  look  battle-worn,  and  there  has  been  abundant  reason  for 
the  fact.  We  American  Christians,  with  heterodoxy  always  in  an  obscure  minority, 
can  hardly  appreciate  the  position  of  earnest  and  talented  men,  who  have  had  to 
bear  up  the  cross  for  half  a  century  and  more,  amid  a  sneering  philosophy,  the  uni- 
versal scoffs  of  men  of  letters,  the  machinations  of  a  superstitious  and  cruel  hie- 
rarchy which  murdered  or  exiled  their  fathers,  and — bitterest  sorrow  of  all — the 
treachery  of  theii-  own  associates.  But  the  times  are  changing  and  their  reward 
wiU  come  !  Grandpierre  opened  the  Convention  with  a  powerful  speech.  He  has 
since  occupied  a  back  corner  of  the  platform,  almost  hidden  from  observation.  I 
consider  him  one  of  the  soundest  and  strongest  men  of  French  Protestantism."  Hia 
voice  is  powerful,  and  he  speaks  with  much  animation.  His  hearers  cherish  for  hira 
the  highest  reverence ;  indeed,  all  who  know  him  regard  him  as  a  good  man,  aa 
well  as  an  able  and  eloquent  preacher.  He  is  an  enthusiastic  friend  of  missions, 
and  acted  for  many  years  as  secretary  of  the  Missionary  Society. 

The  following  beautiful  discourse  will  give  a  good  idea  of  his  style  of  preaching. 


THE   TEARS   OF   JESUS. 

"  Jesus  wept." — John,  xi.  35.    . 


There  are  some  things  in  the  gospel,  my  brethren,  which  open  to  faith 
and  piety,  classes  of  ideas  peculiar  to  themselves ;  which  give  rise  to  the 
deepest  reflections ;  and  in  dwelling  upon  which,  the  soul,  absorbed  and 
overwhelmed,  finds  itself  led  to  feel  rather  than  to  speak — to  adoi'e 
rather  than  to  explain.  The  words  which  compose  our  text  are  among 
these  deep  things.  Jesus  weeping,  is  the  spectacle  which  is  ofiered  for 
our  contemplation :  the  tears  of  Jesus  form  the  vast  and  inexhaustible 
subject  on  Avliich  we  are  called  to  meditate. 

Before  entering  on  such  a  subject,  I  feel  myself  constrained  to  invoke 
thy  aid,  Lord  Jesus — Saviour ;  once  humbled,  but  now  glorified  ! — God, 
once  manifest  in  the  flesh,  to  bear  our  sorrows  and  our  griefs,  to  be 
touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  and  to  deliver  us  from  all  our 
woes, — but  now  raised  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high,  where 
thou  reignest  over  the  empire  of  sin  and  death  !  Ah  !  who  but  thyselt 
can  reveal  to  us  wherefore  thou  didst  weep? — who  but  thyself  can  im- 
press the  important  lessons  to  be  learned  from  thy  tears?  Impart,  then. 
Saviour,  thy  divine  illumination,  to  guide  us  into  those  depths  where  we 
should  be  lost  without  it !  Descend  with  tliy  servant  into  that  mine 
into  which  thou-  hast  commanded  all  to  search,  and  let  hira  draw  from 
thence  spiritual  riches  for  himself  and  for  his  brethren  !     Amen. 

The  Saviour's  grief  at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus  has  been  attributed  to  va- 
rious causes.  Some  ascribe  it  to  the  unbelief  of  the  Jews,  Avho,  after 
having  witnessed  so  many  miracles  which  he  had  already  wrought,  yet 


188  J.    H.    GRANDPIERRE. 

reproached  his  supineness  in  hnving  permitted  the  death  of  Lazarus,  and 
appeared  to  doubt  his  power  to  restore  him  to  Hfe,  This  might  possibly 
combine  with  other  causes  in  producing  it ;  but  as  the  Jews  did  not  ex- 
press their  doubts  in  words,  until  after  he  was  arrived  at  the  grave,  and 
had  wept,  we  can  not  suppose  that  it  formed  the  only,  or  even  piincipaj 
cause  of  his  tears.  Others  think  that  the  deep  aifection  of  Martha  and 
Mary,  under  the  recent  loss  of  a  brother  who  had  been  to  them  as 
another  self — the  tear^  ^hat  they  shed,  and  the  bitterness  of  their  grief, 
drew  from  the  Saviour  this  most  expressive  testimony  of  his  sympathy 
for  the  mourning  family.  But  Jesus  did  not  weep  until  he  had  reached 
the  grave,  and  it  was  before  this  time  that  Maitha  and  Mary  had  thrown 
themselves  at  his  feet,  and  had  expressed  to  him  all  the  bitterness  which 
filled  their  souls ;  it  is,  therefore,  difficult  to  suppose  that  this  was  the 
only  cause  moving  him. 

It  has  again  been  supposed  that  the  remembrance  of  a  family  whom 
he  had  often  visited,  and  where  harmony  and  love  reigned  unbroken, 
now  wounded  in  its  tenderest  part,  cut  in  its  dearest  affections,  and 
plunged  into  the  deepest  mourning,  by  the  loss  of  one  of  its  dear  mem- 
bers, of  its  main  support — this  deeply  affected  Jesus  ;  but  when  it  is  con- 
sidered that  he  was  just  about  to  work  a  miracle  which  should  at  once 
dispell  all  his  grief,  can  we  thus  account  for  it  ?  And,  once  more,  it  has 
been  thought  that  though  to  glorify  God,  and  to  accomplish  his  eternal 
decrees,  our  Lord  was  about  to  work  this  great  miracle,  yet  that  a  view 
of  the  renewed  sorrows  and  trials  which  Lazarus  woixld  inflillibly  be 
called  to  undergo  in  re-entering  upon  life,  caused  his  heart  to  bleed  and 
his  tears  to  flow. 

But  if  ve  consider  the  difficulty  which  attends  each  of  these  ways  of 
accounting  for  the  emotion  which  he  manifested,  perhaps  the  most  easy 
and  natural  way  of  explaining  it  may  be,  the  immediate  effect  of  the 
spectacle  then  before  his  eyes.  He  was  before  a  tomh^  the  tomb  of  a 
beloved  friend,  whose  soul  had  been  in  unison  Avith  his  own,  and  who 
had  been  living  on  earth  the  life  of  heaven.  But  the  angel  of  death  had 
not  spared  him,  notwithstanding  his  regeneration.  He  had  been  stricken 
down,  as  are  the  most  impious  and  vile  : — a  new  attestation  of  the  reality 
of  the  curse  attached  to  transgression  of  the  law,  and  of  the  truth  of  that 
sentence  which  declares  that  "  death  has  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that 
all  have  sinned."  The  corruption  exhaling  from  a  corpse,  which  but  now 
laad  clothed  and  adorned  the  soul  of  one  of  God's  elect,  but  which  the 
breath  of  death  had  sufficed  to  stiffen  and  turn  to  decay,  moved  and 
overcame  him.  He  groaned  and  wept.  The  compassion  of  Jesus,  like 
his  love,  is  infinite.  Added  to  this  the  principal  cause  of  his  affliction, 
were  all  those  which  we  have  noticed  already,  giving  greater  bitterness 
and  depth  to  it,  JVothing  that  concerns  us  is  hidden  from  him,  or  foreign 
to  him.  He  embraces,  so  to  speak,  cdl  our  griefs  in  all  their  varied  as- 
pects and  degrees.    He  feels  for  us  at  once,  in  one  instant  of  time,  more 


THE     TEARS     OF    JESUS.  189 

than  the  most  tei.ierand  compassionate  human  souls  couhl  feel  clunn--  a 
long  course  of  ages.  AVithout  thus  longer  dwelling  on  the  cause  of  his 
tcai-s,  let  us,  regarding  the  fact  that  Jesus  loept  as  the  general  expres- 
sion of  his  deep  love  for  us,  proceed  to  consider  the  lessons  which  Ave  may- 
deduce. 

I.  The  first,  and  pcrha])S  the  most  striking,  is,  the  proof  which  we 
diaw  from  hence  of  the  real  manhood  of  Christ.  We  aj>proach  a  subject 
of  deep  mysteiy,  one  which  must  ever  be  incomprehensible  to  human 
reason, — the  union  of  very  God  and  very  man  in  the  person  of  Christ. 
The  Deity  ever  like  itself,  incapable  of  increase  or  diminution,  of  change 
or  of  suflering,  immutable,  eternal,  infinite  in  all  things,  in  being,  in 
power,  in  Ansdom,  in  greatness,  in  goodness,  united  with  humanity,  whose 
fundamental  law  is  to  progress,  and  develop  its  powers  by  degrees 
which  is  susceptible  of  change,  of  emotion,  of  sadness,  or  grief,  which 
is  limited  in  every  sense  a_nd  on  every  side,  by  time  and  by  space,  and 
is  fixed  as  to  its  duration,  its  extent,  the  stretch  of  its  intellectual 
powers,  and  the  portion  of  matter  in  which  to  reside  !  This  union  is 
indeed  beyond  the  comprehension  of  man:  but  Scripture,  though  it  does 
not  solve  the  mystery,  is  not  silent  on  the  subject.  There  we  read,  that 
Christ  "  was  in  all  points  tempted  like  as  we ;  yet  without  sin."  And 
again,  that  "  in  him  dwelleth  all  the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily." 
There  is  he  represented  as  growing  and  increasing  in  stature  like  ourselves, 
requiring  support,  sufl:ering  from  hunger,  from  thirst,  and  from  fatigue, 
as  Ave  do ;  and  agam  issuing  his  commands  as  the  governor  of  nature,' 
subjecting  to  his  power  the  A'ery  elements  ;  causing  devils  to  fly  at  his 
mandate,  and  hell  to  tremble  before  him  ;  ravishing  from  death  his  A'ic- 
tims,  closing  the  mouth  of  the  graA'e,  and  rising  himself  from  the  tomb. 

And  AA-hat  more  need  Ave  knoAV  for  our  salvation  ?  In  order  to  pre- 
serve physical  life,  has  it  ever  been  necessary  to  resoh^e  the  problem 
of  the  mysterious  union  of  immaterial  spirit  Avith  material  bodies?  In 
order  to  live  sjaritually,  or  to  believe,  is  it  necessary  that  aa'c  arrive 
at  a  demonstration  of  the  mode  of  the  incarnation  of  Christ  ? — of 
the  way  in  Avhich  the  divine  and  human  nature  Avere  found  conjoined 
in  him  ?  Two  things  are  made  perfectly  clear :  first,  that  notlnng  less 
than  the  infinite  mercy  of  Christ  as  God  could  pardon  sin  ;  nothing  less 
than  his  eternal  loA^e  could  saA'C  the  sinner ;  nothing  less  than  his  bound- 
less poAver  could  deliver  from  the  bondage  of  sin.  And,  secondly,  that 
nothing  but  his  assumption  of  humanity  could  liaA'e  brought  us  near  to 
God,  rendered  him  accessible  to  us,  and  efl;ected  our  reconciliation  and 
comnnuiion  Avith  him.  Here  is,  then,  as  full  a  revelation  as  Ave  need. 
Jesus  has  stooped  to  suit  our  wants.  Seizing  then  the  ofiered  salvation 
Avith  thankful  hearts — which  will  lead  us  further  in  one  day,  than  all  the 
efforts  of  reason  could  do  in  ages — let  us  cry  Avith  the  apostle  in  grate- 
ful adoration,  "AYithout  controversy,  great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness; 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh." 


190  J.    H.    GRANDPIERRE. 

II.  Another  inference  which  we  may  draw  from  the  tears  of  Jesus,  is, 
that  grief  itself  is  both  natural  and  lavful.  Could  what  Jesus  did  be 
M'rong  ? — what  the  Son  of  God  allowed  himself,  questionable,  or  cul- 
pable ?  Far  from  us  be  such  a  thought !  The  tears  which  he  shed  over 
the  grave  of  Lazarus,  have  forever  sanctioned  and  sanctified  real  grief. 
"Wouuded  hearts,  suffer,  then,  your  tears  to  flow ;  fear  not ;  Jesus  doea 
not  condemn  them.  Weeping  brings  its  own  relief;  weeping  sometimes 
opens  the  soul  to  divine  consolations  ;  weeping  is  often  the  first  step 
which  the  soul  makes  in  the  way  of  regeneration.  "  Blessed  are  ye  that 
weep  now,"  said  he  who  had  bathed  the  grave  of  Lazarus  with  his  own 
tears  ; — "Blessed  are  ye  that  weep  now,  for  ye  shall  laugh." 

Only  let  us  examine  well  into  the  cause  and  nature  of  our  grief;  for 
the  question  is,  not  whether  giief  is  in  itself  lawful — this  was  resolved 
long  ago  by  the  example  and  by  the  word  of  Jesus: — ^but  the  important 
point  is,  %ohy  and  lioio  do  we  Aveep  ?  O  you  who  are  overwhelmed  by 
floods  of  sorrow  and  who  find  no  true  consolation,  be  well  assured  that 
if  your  grief  be  displeasing  to  God,  it  is  because  it  is  not  "  after  a  godly 
nuinner^^''  it  is  not  the  grief  of  a  Christian.  "Godly  sorrow,"  says  the 
Bible,  "  worketh  repentance  unto  salvation  not  to  be  reiDented  of;  but  the 
sorrow  of  the  world  worketh  death." 

Examine  well,  then,  my  dear  hearers,  from  what  cause  flow  your  tears. 
Is  it  selfishness  which  seeks  its  own,  and  will  yield  nothing,  though  it  be 
God  himself  who  makes  the  demand  ?  Is  it  covetousness,  which  would 
enjoy  its  object  far  from  God,  forgetting  and  banishing  him  ?  Is  it  the 
idolatry  of  a  heart  which  clings  tenaciously  to  its  idols ,  and  which  pre- 
fers to  consume  itself  in  hopeless  grief,  rather  than  fly  for  consolation  to 
him  who  would  give  it  abundantly  from  the  eternal  fountain  of  his  love  ? 
Is  it  unbelief  which  spreads  a  thick  vail  over  the  future,  and  clouds  from 
view  the  joys  of  heaven  ?  Is  it  distrust,  causing  you  to  doubt  that  the 
promises  of  God  are  yours — that  his  work  was  wi'ought  in  favor  of  you  ? 
If  indeed  such  be  the  subject  of  your  grief,  it  can  not  be  pleasing  to  the 
Loi'd.  But  if  you  will  weep  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  if  you  will  spread 
your  sorrows  before  your  Saviour,  if  you  will  mourn  with  that  calm  sub- 
mission that  fiith  inspires,  with  that  hope  which  is  produced  by  a  con- 
viction that  he  has  done  'all  things  well— then  indeed  it  is  permitted  you 
to  weep,  and  Jesus  himself  will  weep  with  you. 

III.  t'rom  the  view  of  our  Saviour  which  the  text  jiresents,  we  may 
learn  his  sympathy  with  us  in  cdl  our  griefs.  How  touching,  and  how 
well  calculated  to  impart  consolation  and  hope,  is  the  history  which  the 
inspired  writers  give  of  him  !  And,  be  it  remembered,  they  do  not 
draw  for  us  a  beautiful  poetical  picture,  but  they  give  a  relation  of  facts. 
Jesus  at  a  sick  bed,  in  a  house  of  mourning,  among  the  tombs,  travehng 
on  foot  every  wdiere,  where  the  needs  of  man  required  him,  where  were 
burdens  to  be  relieved,  sorrows  to  be  soflened,  deliverances  to  be 
wrought — are  not  beautiful  fictions,  but  facts  which  really  had  place 


THE    TEARS     OF    JESUS.  191 

while  he  dwelt  among  us,  clothed  with  our  mortal  flesh,  and  suhject  to 
our  infirmities.  And  if  such  was  his  Hfe  while  he»-e,  what  must  be  his 
readiness  to  help  us,  now  that,  exalted  far  above  this  empire  of  sin  and 
death,  "  all  power  is  given  to  him  in  heaven  and  in  earth !"  By  his 
omniscience  he  knows  all  that  concerns  its  ;  by  his  immensity  he  em- 
braces it  all ;  by  his  omnipotence  he  can  deliver  us  from  all ;  his  love  is 
commensurate  to  all  our  needs  ;  and  he  can  be  touched  with  our  sorrows, 
for  he  has  experienced  them. 

Sufferers !  go  then  fearlessly  to  him  ;  take  all  your  giiefs  and  all  your 
needs  before  him ;  go  to  him  with  unshaken  trust.  For  say,  is  there  a 
single'fear  that  he  can  not  dissipate  ?  a  single  care  from  which  he  can 
not  relieve  ?  a  single  danger  from  which  he  can  not  deliver?  a  single  loss 
which  he  can  not  repair  ?  a  single  tear  which  he  can  not  dry  ?  a  single 
.wound  which  he  can  not  heal  ?  When  on  earth  he  wept  for  man ;  and  can 
you  suppose  that  now  that  he  is  glorified  at  the  right  hand  of  his  Father, 
he  is  less  ready  to  compassionate,  to  deliver,  to  console  ?  Ah !  Avhen 
your  faithless  heart  would  turn  from  him,  either  to  prey  upon  its  own 
grief,  or  to  seek  in  the  world  consolation — which  the  world  can  never 
give — then  let  the  image  of  Jesus  weeping  be  present  to  your  eyes;  and 
open  your  ears  to  the  words,  "  We  have  not  a  high  priest  which  can  not 
be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but  was  in  all  points  tempted 
like  as  Ave  are,  yet  without  sin.  Let  us  therefore  come  boldly  imto  the 
throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help  in 
time  of  need." 

IV.  The  only  true  consolation  lohich  a  Christian  can  taste^  as  he  con- 
templaies  his  separation  from  those  ichom  death  has  taken  from  him,  is, 
when  he  leads  Jesus  icith  him  to  the  tomb.  For  what  is  a  tomb  without 
Jesus  ?  It  is  an  empty  and  a  gloomy  place,  adapted  but  to  afflict  the 
heart  with  melancholy  and  despair.  It  contauas  a  heap  of  dust,  a  few 
moldering  bones,  a  mass  of  corruption  ;  it  is  a  place  of  bitter  regrets, 
of  ever-flowing  tears,  of  painful  recollections,  of  dismal  perplexities.  But 
view  Jesus  in  connection  with  the  tomb,  and  hope,  and  resurrection,  and 
life,  and  immortality  are  present,  to  console  and  gladden  the  heart.  Do 
you,  my  dear  hearer,  find  yourself  sometimes  drawn  to  visit  the  spot  where 
you  have  deposited  the  remains  of  a  father,  mother,  husband,  wife,  a 
child,  a  friend,  a  brother,  in  regard  to  whom  you  cherish  the  sweet  hope 
of  meeting  again  in  the  abodes  of  immortality  ?  Then,  like  Martha  and 
Mary,  pray  your  Saviour  to  go  with  you  there.  Then  you  will  not  go 
to  render  Avorship  to  the  creature,  you  will  not  seek  among  the  dead 
him  who  hves  clothed  now  with  glory  and  immortality,  your  soul  Avill  not 
be  filled  with  gloom  and  sad  thoughts,  but  will  rather  be  drawn  ujnvard 
with  hope.  Over  that  tomb  you  Avill  see  the  dawn  of  the  eternal  day  ; 
you  will  hear  his  voice,  Avho  "  is  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  saying, 
"the  hour  is  coming,  and  now  is,  Avhen  the  dead  shall  hear  the  voice  of 
the  Son  of  God ;  and  they  that  hear  shall  live." 


192  J.    H.    GRANDPIERRE. 

Tliere  have  been  Christians,  my  brethren,  who  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  repairing,  from  time  to  time,  to  the  grave  of  departed  Christian  friends, 
to  vt'eep,  to  pray,  and  to  meditate  tliere.  But  the  tears  shed  have  not 
been  those  of  bitterness.  Tliese  visits  have  not  excited  in  them  those 
gnawing  regrets,  those  agonizing  feelings,  to  which  they  are  subject  who 
are  strangers  to  gospel  consolations,  for  among  these  very  tombs  it  is  that 
they  can  peculiarly  call  to  mind,  and  rejoice  in,  their  privileges  as  heirs 
of  the  heavenly  kingdom.  But  it  must  be  noted  that  the  friends,  in 
whose  memory  they  have  thus  loved  to  dwell,  have  been,  like  Lazarus, 
the  friends  and  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord. 

V,  The  tears  shed  by  Jesus  teach  us  another  lesson,  namely,  lohatare 
the  occasions  which  call  for  grief ;  and  also,  hy  implication,  tohat  are 
those  occasions  where  it  is  fitly  hestoioed?  Only  twice  in  the  gospel  his- 
tory is  it  recorded  that  Jesus  wept.  And  these  were  over  the  grave 
of  Lazarus,  when  human  nature  paid  her  last  forfeit,  and  over  guilty  Jeru- 
salem, when  he  pictured  to  his  mind  the  judgment  which  should  fall 
upon  it.  He  wept  for  others,  not  for  himself.  He  wept  for  real  rooe,  not 
for  the  imaginary  sorrow  which  vanity  creates.  Let  us  draw  hence  our 
own  instruction.  It  is  usually  supposed,  that  one  of  the  most  cutting 
subjects  of  remorse  and  confusion  to  the  world,  Avhen  overtaken  mththe 
judgments  of  God,  and  consigned  to  their  final  doom,  will  be  the  simple 
pleasure  and  vain  joys  for  which  they  have  sold  their  souls.  And  this  ideii 
is  perfectly  scriptural.  But  may  we  not  add  that  their  confusion  will 
arise,  not  only  from  having  rejoiced  in  that  wherein  they  should  not  have 
rejoiced,  having  loved  those  things  which  should  not  have  been  objects 
of  love,  and  having  sacrificed  God  who  is  eternal,  for  the  world  which 
is  transient,  but  also  from  the  recollection  that  they  wept  when  they 
should  not  have  wept ;  that  they  shed  tears  of  vanity,  of  pride,  of  lust,  of 
ambition,  of  avarice,  while  their  hearts  were  at  ease,  and  their  eyes  were 
dry,  on  subjects  which  should  have  drawn  from  them  the  deepest  emo- 
tion, such  as  their  alienation  from  God,  their  ingratitude  and  disobedience 
to  him,  their  present  state  of  sin,  and  their  prospect  of  eternal  perdition? 
Their  subjects  of  grief  were  not  the  same  with  those  of  Jesus. 

Christians,  let  your  sympathy  and  compassion  flow  from  a  right  source. 
Weep  for  the  sins  of  a  perishing  world.  Weep  for  the  miseries  which 
sin  has  introduced.  Weep  for  the  sorrows  of  those  who  are  its  victims 
here,  and  who  seem  ready  to  incur  its  doom  hereafter.  If  you  weep 
for  yourselves,  still  guard  the  subjects  of  your  tears.  Weep  for  the 
secret  rebellion  of  your  hearts ;  your  unbelief;  your  lukewarmness ; 
your  seltishness.  Here,  indeed,  are  subjects  on  which  you  need  not  fear 
to  indulge  too  much  sensibility.  If  such  be  the  subjects  of  your  grief,  the 
Lord  will  not  condemn  you,  but  will  say  of  you,  "  Blessed  are  yo  that 
mourn,  for  ye  shall  be  comforted." 

VI.  The  point  of  view  in  which  we  we  here  regard  the  Saviour,  teaches 
us  hoio  loe  oufjht  to  look  upon  death.    There  is  in  death  so  little  that  is 


THE     TEARS    OF    JESUS.  193 

in  harmony  with  the  course  and  jilan  of  nature,  that  the  eternal  Son  of 
the  Father  mourns  over  it.  So  little  did  it  enter  into  the  original  plan 
I'fthe  Creator  of  the  universe,  that  that  very  Creator,  when  incarnate,  is 
weeping  over  it !  The  vain  reasoning  of  a  proud  philosophy,  wishing  to 
avoid  the  shame  and  humiliation  which  attend  the  consideration  of  death, 
regarded  as  the  fruit  And  punishment  of  sin,  and  anxious  to  quiet  con- 
science when  she  whispers  of  retribution,  seeks  to  regard  it  simply  as  an 
immutable  law  of  nature.  But  though  Scripture  should  not  have  pro- 
nounced with  a  tone  of  divine  authority,  "  the  wages  of  sin  is  death," 
Jesus  before  the  tomb  of  Lazarus  would  have  contradicted  such  a  view. 

False  philosophy  says  that  it  is  a  natural  phenomenon,  a  law  of  nature, 
part  of  the  work  of  God  :  but  the  tears  of  Jesus  say,  that  it  is  a  disorder 
in  creation,  the  execution  of  a  terrible  sentence,  pronounced  in  the  be- 
ginning, by  the  Divine  Legislator,  against  sin :  that  it  is  a  desolation, 
a  destruction,  introduced  into  the  work  of  God.  Look  at  the  Saviour's 
emotion,  and  see  in  it  the  Creator  himself,  grieving  over  the  depth  of 
his  creature's  fall,  where  can  now  no  longer  be  recognized  the  divine 
features  which  he  bore,  when  ci'eated  in  the  image  of  his  God !  See  him 
viewing  in  that  mass  of  moldering  dust,  an  image  yet  more  hideous 
than  that  of  a  corpse,  namely,  that  of  sin !  See  him  looking  beyond  the 
putrifying  body  which  has  met  the  sentence  of  eternal  justice,  to  the 
second  death,  the  undying  worm,  "  the  weeping,  and  wailing,  and  gnash- 
ing of  teeth,"  which  will  become  the  lot  of  all  those  who  do  not  embrace 
the  gospel ! 

Such  of  you,  my  dear  hearers,  as  have  not  yet  obtained  peace  of  con- 
science, through  faith  in  Christ,  who  are  yet  unregenerate,  see  him  weep- 
ing here  over  your  present  sin  and  your  future  portion,  and  O !  let  the 
sight  move  you,  tear  you  from  your  fatal  security,  and  lead  you  to  seek, 
without  longer  delay,  safety  in  hhn  who  was  crucified  to  atone  for  your 
sins ;  who  descended  into  the  grave  to  tear  from  death  his  sting ;  and 
who  ascended  into  heaven  to  prepare  a  place  for  those  v>ho  love  him,  and 
who  hope  in  him  ! 

Here  I  pause,  my  brethren.  In  considering  the  words  which  have 
been  brought  before  us,  I  have  endeavored  rather  to  ])oint  out,  and  open 
to  your  view  subjects  for  deep  and  fruitful  meditation,  than  to  folloAv 
tlicm  out,  or  exhaust  them.  I  commend  them  to  your  private  consid- 
eration, and  pray  God  to  bless  them  to  all  our  souls.  We  shall  not  have 
s)»eut  an  hour  in  vain,  if  Christians  depart  comforted  in  heart,  or  strength- 
ened in  faith:  and  if  unconverted  souls  shall  have  learned  to  tremble  be- 
fore the  law  which  hangs  in  terror  over  them ;  to  be  subdued  before  a 
conscience  which  condemns  them ;  to  turn  toward  God  who  invites 
them  ;  and  to  believe  in  Jesus  who  stands  ready  to  save  them  : — ichich 
may  God  grant!    Amen. 

13 


DISCOURSE    XV. 

ATHANASE    COQUEREL. 

Athanase  Coquerel  was  born  at  Paris,  in  1795 ;  studied  theology  at  Montauban, 
and,  in  1818,  became  pastor  of  the  French  church  in  Amsterdam,  where  he  remained 
twelve  years.  In  1830  he  was  induced  by  Cuvier  to  come  to  Paris.  In  1848  he 
was  elected  delegate  to  the  Constituent  Assembly  from  the  Department  of  the  Seine, 
and  was  subsequently  a  member  of  the  Legislative  Assembly,  in  neither  of  which, 
however,  did  he  take  any  prominent  part. 

He  has  been  known  for  many  years  as  one  of  the  most  eloquent  preachers  in 
Paris,  and  belongs  to  the  body  of  pastors  of  the  Reformed  Church ;  although  his 
views  are  not  accepted  as  wholly  evangelical.  Owing  to  this  last  fact,  he  has  often 
found  himself  engaged  in  controversies  with  different  theologians  and  laymen  in 
France,  which  has  led  to  his  publication  of  many  pamphlets,  some  of  which  are 
written  with  great  force.  -Besides,  he  has  written  much  in  the  departments  of  relig- 
ious history  and  literature.  Among  his  works  are,  "  Biographic  Sacree"  (second 
edition,  1837).  "Esquisses  Poetiques  de  I'Ancien  Testament"  (1829  and  1831), 
''  Cours  de  la  Religion  Chretienne"  (1833  and  1839),  "  Histoire  Sainte  et  Analyse  de 
la  Bible"  (1839,  third  edition,  1850),  '•  Response  au  Livre  du  Doctor  Strauss,  '  La 
Vie  de  Jesus'  "  (1841),  which  has  been  translated  into  German  and  Enghsh. 

Of  his  sermons  several  collections  have  been  made,  the  earliest  in  1819,  of  which 
a  third  edition  appeared  in  1842  ;  a  second  collection  in  1828,  reprinted  in  1843  ;  a 
third  in  1838,  and  a  fourth  in  1842.  They  are  not  often  controversial  in  their  tone 
and  bearing,  and  everywhere  exhibit  the  strongly  rhetorical  aspect,  so  characteristic 
of  the  French  school  of  eloquence.  Along  with  his  graces  of  language  and  style, 
there  is  also  depth  and  strength  of  thought,  and  an  evident  aim  to  awaken  a  genial 
and  active  Christian  hfe.  His  later  sermons  are  less  ornate,  and  bear  the  marks  of 
more  maturity  than  the  earliest  issues. 

Some  of  Mr.  Coquerel's  finest  qualities  as  a  preacher  are  brought  out  in  the  fol- 
lowing discourse.  This  is  particularly  true  of  his  elaborate  accuracy  of  painting,  or 
description,  by  which  he  revivifies,  almost  with  a  poet's  power,  the  incidents  and 
narrations  recorded  in  the  Scriptures ;  and,  withal,  his  nicety  in  the  practical  appli- 
cation of  their  lessons  to  daily  life. 


THE     UNBELIEF     OP    THOMAS.  ^95 


THE    UNBELIEF     OF    THOMAS. 

"  But  Thomas,  one  of  the  twelve,  called  Didymus,  was  not  with  them  when  Jesus  came. 
The  other  disciples  therefore  said  unto  him,  We  have  seen  the  Lord.  But  he  said  unto 
them,  Except  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put  my  finger  into  the 
print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his  side,  I  will  not  believe.  And  after  eight  days, 
again  liis  disciples  were  within,  and  Thomas  with  them ;  then  came  Jesus,  the  doors  being 
shut,  and  stood  in  the  midst,  and  said.  Peace  be  unto  you.  Then  saith  he  to  Thomas, 
Reach  hither  thy  linger,  and  behold  my  hands ;  and  reach  hither  thy  hand,  and  thnist  it 
into  my  side,  and  be  not  faithless,  but  believing.  And  Thomas  answered  and  said  unto 
him,  My  Lord  and  my  God  I  Jesus  saith  unto  him,  Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me, 
thou  hast  believed ;  blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed." — John', 
XX.  24-29.    ■ 

My  Bretiiren^ — The  extreme  rapidity  with  which  man  passes  from 
one  sentiment  to  another,  is,  without  contradiction,  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  traits  of  his  nature.  He  can,  in  an  instant,  change  in  conduct 
.and  .opinion  as  in  destiny,  and  one  is  still  astonished  to  discover  in  him 
the  same  man. 

The  most  opposite  movements  succeed  each  other  instantaneously  in 
his  heart,  and  the  vicissitudes  of  his  life  pass  not  so  quickly  as  his  emo- 
tions and  thoughts.  Consider  Abraham  and  Jacob,  at  the  moment  when 
the  one  spares  Isaac,  and  the  other  recovers  Joseph  ;  it  is  the  same  sen- 
timent, it  is  paternal  love,  which  fills  the  heart,  but  what  a  sudden  rev- 
olution is  operated  in  their  feelings  !  Behold  David  condemnmg  with 
iustice  the  despoiler  of  the  poor  man's  sheep,  and  hearing  the  terrible 
words.  Thou  art  the  man  !  Behold  Saul  advancing  with  a  firm  step  to- 
Avard  the  persecutions  which  he  promises  to  himself,  and  beaten  down 
under  the  weight  of  this  overwhelming  question  :  Saul,  Saul.,  %ohy  perse- 
cutest  thou  me  ?  It  is  always  David,  it  is  always  Saul,  and  nevertheless 
how  is  the  heart  changed  !  Their  life  is  renewed,  their  soul  subdued,  by 
a  power  that  they  knew  not  the  instant  before,  and  a  destiny  entirely 
new  is  opened  up  before  them.  I  could  easily  multiply  these  examples  ; 
everywhere  you  would  see  that  in  a  day,  m  a  moment,  man  may  become 
in  some  sort  difierent  from  himself;  and  to  come  without  delay  to  the 
subject  which  is  to  occupy  us,  what  a  difference  in  the  disciple  of  Christ, 
saying.  Except  I  shall  see  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails,  and  put 
my  finger  into  the  p>rb\t  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his  side, 
I  will  not  believe  ;  and  the  same  disciple  exclaiming  before  Jesus,  3Ty 
Lord  and  my  God! 

Brethren,  it  is  good  that  man  can  thus  change.  Human  life  is  so 
short,  the  propitious  occasions  pass  so  quickly,  and  their  return  is  so  un- 
certain, the  advantage  of  profiting  by  them  without  delay  is  so  great, 
that  it  is  good  that  men  can  thus  change,  can  pass  in  an  instant  from 
vengeance  to  pity,  from  iniquity  to  virtue,  from  incredulity  to  faith, 
and  thus  possess  himself  of  the  beginnings  of  his  new  life.     I  do  not 


196  ATHVNASE     COQUEREL. 

mean  to  say  that  such  prompt  changes  are  without  incorveniences;  ihey 
have  need  of  being  confirmed  by  time  ;  they  fatigue,  they  exhaust  some- 
times ;  and  when  a  wise  and  good  resohition  is  taken,  that  is  not  all — it 
is  to  be  fulfilled.  Again,  as  these  changes  take  place  from  evil  to  good, 
they  may  also  occur  from  good  to  evil ;  a  movement  of  pride,  a  trans- 
port of  anger,  an  act  of  vengeance,  are  often  only  the  fruits  of  a  first 
movement  of  which  one  immediately  repents.  Nevertheless,  taken  all 
together,  it  is  good  that  man  can  thus  change  ;  it  is  a  means  the  more 
of  converting  him — ^it  is  an  added  hope  that  he  will  turn  himself;  it 
is  a  wide  door  opened  to  all  those  who  are  neither  wicked  nor  faithful, 
who  float  uncertain  between  their  passions  and  their  duties,  and  wait 
only  an  occasion  to  decide ;  and  to  those  who,  without  believing  and 
without  denying,  yet  doubt  and  hesitate  in  their  uncertain  opinions,  and 
are  ready  at  the  first  opportunity  to  become  incredulous  or  believers. 
Furthermore,  these  sudden  changes  accord  with  the  vicissitudes  of  our 
terrestrial  pilgrimage  ;  thus  a  Job  passes  in  one  day  from  the  highest 
prosperity  to  the  most  deplorable  misfortunes ;  a  Saul  passes  in  a  day 
from  the  persecutions  that  he  inflicts,  to  those  that  he  suffers  for  the 
name  of  Jesus.  You  see,  our  life  then  is  in  accordance  with  our 
hearts  ;  providence  and  grace  often  follow  the  same  route,  and  without 
our  being  al51e  te  reckon  whether  there  are  more  relapses  or  more 
amendments  in  this  world,  all  this  experience  serves  to  confirm  this 
grand  precept,  which  is  true  for  prosperity  as  well  as  for  virtue: — "Let 
him  Avho  standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall !" 

But  whether  one  fall  or  raise  himself,  one  of  the  most  interesting 
studies  that  a  Christian  can  make,  is  that  of  the  interval  which  sej)arates 
the  two  extremes  ;  this  interval,  however  short  it  may  be,  can  always  be 
measured.  For  a  change  so  gre.'it  there  is  required  a  great  cause.  Be- 
tween David  an  adulterer  and  David  repentant,  there  is  the  word  of 
Nathan  ;  between  Peter  who  denies  with  execrations,  and  Peter  who 
casts  himself  all  in  tears  from  the  court  of  Caiaphas,  there  is  the  look 
of  Christ ;  between  Saul  persecutor  and  Saul  persecuted,  there  is  the 
magnificent  vision  of  the  road  to  Damascus.  Let  us  see  then  to-day 
what  there  is  between  Thomas  incredulous  and  Thomas  believing.  Let 
us  endeavor  to  represent  to  ourselves  this  memorable  scene.  Let  us 
endeavor  to  be  present  at  the  imposing  moment  Avhen  Christ  suddenly 
showed  himself  to  his  apostles,  and  renewed  the  heart  of  the  disciple 
who  still  doubted.  You  love  too  well  the  open  tomb  of  your  divine 
Saviour,  to  complain  at  being  brought  back  to  it;  and  j^erhajDS  the  words 
of  our  lips,  and  the  meditations  of  our  hearts,  may  be  acceptable,  if  on 
this  solemn  day  Ave  can  say  to  Jesus,  with  as  much  confidence  and  grati- 
tude as  Thomas  :  3I)j  Lord  and  my  God  ! 

I,  It  would  be  impossible  to  profit  by  the  example  that  the  account 
of  the  gospel  offers  us,  and  to  judge  well  of  the  sentiments  of  Thomas, 
under  such  striking  circumstances,  unless  we  begin  by  knowing  his 


THE     UNBELIEF     OF    THOMAS.  197 

character. weL,  Whatever  may  be  tlie  circumstances  in  which  one  finds 
himself,  the  impressions  tliat  he  receives,  and  the  duties  that  he  fulfills, 
or  even  the  sins  that  he  commits,  the  character  never  loses  all  its  traits, 
and  he  remains  faithful  to  it  without  being  aware  of  it.  Thomas,  prob- 
ably the  only  survivor  of  tAvo  twan  brothers,  is  a  man  of  frankness  and 
uprightness,  full  of  zeal  and  ardor,  who  holds  to  his  first  ideas  as  he 
obeys  his  first  emotions.  He  is  a  man  who  never  hesitates,  he  gives 
himself  to  a  thing  m  the  same  way  that  he  doubts,  in  the  same  way  that 
he  believes,  in  an  instant  and  at  once.  When  Jesus,  who  had  crossed 
to  the  eastward  of  the  Jordan,  announces  the  intention  of  returning  into 
Judea,  to  Bethany,  Avhere  the  death  of  Lazarus  called  him,  in  spite  of 
the  dangers  which  awaited  him  in  Jerusalem,  Thomas,  in  a  transport 
of  love  and  admiration,  exclaims,  addressing  himself  to  the  disciples : 
Let  us  go  there  and  die  with  him.  And  this  same  Thomas,  who  shows 
himself  so  ready  to  partake  the  danger  of  death  Avith  Christ,  and  to 
follow  him  into  the  midst  of  persecutions,  nevertheless  comprehended 
nothing  of  the  mysteries  of  the  cross  or  the  oracles  of  the  resurrection. 
When,  in  one  of  his  last  interviews,  Jesus  said  to  his  disciples.  Ye  hnoxo 
ichither  I  go  and  ye  knoio  the  way,  Thomas,  as  frank  in  his  ignorance 
as  we  shall  find  him  in  his  incredulity,  interrupts  Christ,  and  says  to 
him :  Lord,  ice  know  not  whither  thou  goest,  how  can  toe  hnoio  the  toay  ? 
You  see  Thomas  is  the  same  in  his  ignorance  as  in  his  devotedness  ;  he 
speaks  with  the  same  promj^titude,  expresses  himself  with  the  same 
frankness ;  he  is  one  of  those  men  to  whom  one  can  trust,  because  their 
mouth  speaks  only  from  their  heart,  because  they  never  say  except  what 
they  think  or  what  they  feel,  and  because  they  say  it  at  the  instant. 
And  notice  that  they  act  as  they  think,  Avith  ardor,  Avith  transport,  as 
if  carried  aw^ay.  Their  precipitation,  though  noble  and  generous,  is  not 
Avithout  danger;  for  if  they  reach  the  goal  Avhen  others  seek  it,  they 
sometimes  pass  it  Avhen  others  have  reached  it. 

But,  you  will  say  to  me,  "  It  is  the  character  of  St.  Peter  that  I  de- 
scribe, and  Christ  had  then  two  disciples  who  resembled  each  other." 
Brethren,  they  Avere  men  like  these  that  Avere  required  to  spread  the 
gospel  and  found  the  church,  and  this  character  of  Thomas  is  not,  in 
truth,  without  some  relation  to  that  of  the  son  of  JonaS.  But  Thomas 
has  much  less  confidence  in  himself,  and  their  characters  present  the 
same  difterence  as  their  dcA'otedness.  Peter  swears  that  he  Avill  die  AA'ith 
Christ,  and,  exalting  himself  above  all  others,  he  declares  Avith  pride, 
that  even  should  all  betray  him,  he  Avould  not  do  it.  Thomas  does  not 
swear :  he  exclaims.  With  one  it  is  a  movement  of  pride  ;  Avith  the 
other,  a  transport  of  fidelity.  Thus  one  denied  and  lied,  and  the  other 
doubted.  Without  Avishing  to  diminish  the  glory  of  the  son  of  Jonas, 
the  doubt  Avas  better  than  the  denial.  You  Avill  see,  also,  that  the  les- 
son given  to  Thomas,  by  Christ,  is  very  different  from  that  Avhich  Peter 
received.     It  Avas  necessary  to  reinstate  Peter  in  the  oflice  of  apostle ;  it 


]^98  ATHANASE     COQUEREL. 

sufficed  to  enlighten  the  spirit  of  Thomas,  who  had  not  fallen  from  his 
i-ank.  Let  us  leave  to  each  his  faults ;  they  have  also  each  his  glory  and 
his  virtues. 

It  is  for  such  characters  that  the  least  circumstances  of  life  have  an 
importance,  because  they  draw  from  them  results  that  cooler  men  would 
not  know  how  to  bring  out.  Thomas — from  what  motive  is  unknown — ■ 
was  not  at  Jerusalem  the  day  of  the  resurrection.  It  is  certain,  at  least, 
that  on  the  evening  of  this  memorable  day,  when  Jesus  showed  himself  to 
the  apostles,  Thomas  was  not  with  the  disciples.  The  language  that  Jesus 
addresses  to  him,  in  the  interview  that  we  are  studying,  attests  suf- 
.ficiently  that  Thomas  had  not  seen  him  shice  the  resurrection ;  and  his 
absence  leads  naturally  to  the  thought  that  he  had  left  Jerusalem. 
From  this  circumstance,  so  simple,  all  resulted.  Perhaps,  had  he  waited, 
at  least,  until  the  third  day,  to  depart,  perhaps,  in  the  morning,  at  the 
first  rumor  of  the  resurrection,  ardent  like  Peter,  he  would  have  run 
like  him  to  the  sepulcher  ;  and,  like  John,  he  would  have  been  able  to 
say,  afterward:  I  have  seen  and  believed !  But  his  absence — of  which, 
certainly,  he  himself  did  not  see  the  importance — ^iDecame  fatal  to  his 
faith,  and  served  as  a  pretext  and  occasion  for  doubts.  In  the  course  of 
the  week  after  the  resurrection — perhaps  even  the  Sunday  following — 
Thomas  returned  to  Jerusalem,  saw  the  disciples,  and  their  first  care  Avaa 
to  acquaint  him  with  the  great  event  which  had  filled  them  with  joy. 
Represent  to  yourselves  the  astonishment  of  Thomas  at  this  unhoped-for 
news.  Recall  to  your  minds  that  no  one  had  expected  the  resurrection 
of  the  Lord — neither  the  holy  women,  nor  the  friends  of  Christ,  nor  the 
disciples,  nor  the  apostles.  The  oracles  which  announced  the  prodigy 
had  not  been  understood,  or,  rather,  had  "been  forgotten  amid  the  hor- 
rors of  Calvary  ;  and  if,  outside  of  Jerusalem,  the  report  of  it  had  reached 
Thomas,  it  is  evident  that  he  considered  it  only  as  a  popular  rumor, 
M'ithout  foundation.  He  had  quitted  Jerusalem  without  expecting  it ; 
he  returns,  not  believing  in  it ;  and  the  first  word  that  is  addi-essed  to 
him  is  the  confirmation  of  this  unexpected  event  I  *  *  *  Then  a  con- 
versation arose  between  Thomas  and  the  ten  apostles,  of  which  the 
evangehst  has  evidently  reported  only  the  substance  or  the  end.  The 
discussion  must  have  been  animated,  because  such  is  the  nature  of  the 
human  heart ;  because  men  do  not  talk  coldly  of  a  i-esurrection ;  because 
.  all  the  apostles,  incredulous  or  believing,  could  not  but  take  the  most 
ardent  interest  in  the  triumph  of  their  cherished  Master;  because, 
finally,  it  suflices  that  two  men  of  an  impetuous  character,  like  Peter  and 
Thomas,  should  disagree  upon  the  truth  of  an  occurrence,  and  that  one 
should  afiirm  while  the  other  contests  it,  for  the  temper  of  both  to 
become  roused,  and  that  they  should  quit  one  another — each  persevering 
in  his  ideas.  Let  us  never  fear,  brethren,  to  see  in  the  apostles  men  like 
ourselves.  Their  work  is  so'  much  the  more  beautiful,  the  tongues  of 
dame  which  rested  upon  their  foreheads  are  so  much  the  more  luminous 


THE     UNBELIEF     OF    THOMAS.  199 

for  it,  and  the  divine  intervention  in  tlie  establishment  of  Christianity,  so 
much  the  moi-e  evident.  I  advance  nothing  here  which  is  not  supported 
by  the  gospel,  A  simple  reading  of  the  account  suffices  to  recognize 
that  the  sacred  historian  has  given,  I  repeat  it,  only  the  summary  of  the 
interview  ;  and  he  has  chosen  so  well  the  few  words  that  he  reports,  that 
we  can  judge  the  entire  conversation  by  them. 

What  was  the  proof  that  the  ajjostles  and  disciples  ceased  not  to  give 
to  Thomas  ?  One  only  :  "  We  have  seen  the  Jjord!"  And  this  style  of 
discussion  is  conformable  to  the  human  heart.  AVitnesses  who  can  say, 
"  We  have  seen,"  say  nothing  else,  because  this  argument  is  the  strong- 
est that  they  can  allege  ;  they  return  to  it  unceasingly  ;  they  present  it 
under  a  thousand  aspects  ;  they  reproduce  it  under  a  thousand  forms, 
and  they  are  astonished  that  they  do  not  convince,  because  they  them- 
selves are  convinced.  They  have  seen,  and  they  do  not  believe  them- 
selves bound  to  advance  other  proofs.  If  that  sufficed  for  them,  why  not 
for  others  ?  The  self  love  of  an  eye-witness  is  always  engaged  in  his 
testimony,  because  one  must  doubt,  in  order  to  contradict  it,  either  his 
sincerity  or  his  reason.  Thomas  did  not  contradict  his  brother  disciples 
by  accusing  them  of  a  falsehood  ;  but  the  idea  which  seized  upon  him, 
the  objection  that  he  presented,  the  reply  that  he  made,  appear  to  have 
been  always  this :  "  You  have  seen  a  spirit,  and  you  believe  you  have 
seen  the  Lord."  This  error  was  conformable  to  the  prejudices  of  the 
Jews.  Luke  says,  in  formal  terms,  that  upon  the  first  apparition  of 
Christ,  the  disciples,  dismayed  and  troubled,  believed  they  saw  a  spirit ; 
and  what  shows  completely  that  this  idea  was  that  of  Thomas,  is  the 
})roof  that  he  demands.  Regard  it  attentively  :  you  will  see  that  this 
proof  is  altogether  material ;  they  are  wounds  and  scars  that  Thomas 
wishes  to  see  and  touch,  because  he  knows  that  a  spirit  has  them  not ;  and 
persisting  in  this  error,  he  ends  by  saying  to  the  apostles :  "  Except  I 
shall  see  in  his  hands  the  print  of  the  nails^  and  put  my  finger  into  the 
print  of  the  nails,  and  thrust  my  hand  into  his  side,  I  icill  not  believe.'''' 

These,  brethren,  are  the  famous  words  to  which  Thomas  owes  the 
title  of  incredulous,  and  which  seemed  filled  \Vith  most  indiscreet  exac- 
tion, and  deep-rooted  incredulity.  No,  that  is  not  the  sense  which  must 
be  given  to  them.  These  words  did  not  form  a  connected  discourse ; 
they  are  animated  assertions,  sudden  replies  which  have  burst  out  o\w 
after  the  other  in  the  warmth  of  the  dispute ;  it  is  the  obstinacy  of  a 
man  who  reasons,  and  not  that  of  an  unbeliever  who  contradicts ;  it  is 
the  intemperance  of  tongue  of  a  disputant  who  is  attacked  on  all  sides 
at  once ;  it  is  perseverance  in  a  single  idea,  and  not  the  unconquerable 
incredulity  which  refuses  to  see,  and  asks  for  reasons  only  to  combat 
them.  And  the  proof  that  Thomas,  if  I  may  so  say,  did  not  speak  seri- 
ously, is  that  he  did  not  for  an  instant  dream  of  doing  what  he  said  ; 
that  he  did  not  touch  these  wounds ;  that  he  finished  by  believing,  pre- 
cisely for  the  reason  that  he  rejected,  for  the  same  reason  as  the  rest 


200  ATHiNASE     COQUEREL. 

of  the  disciples,  simply  because  he  saw  the  Lord.  But  then,  if  these 
words  do  not  deserve  all  the  reproaches  with  which  history  pursues  and 
vulgar  reputation  surrounds  them,  if  they  are  only  words  which  escaped 
in  the  heat  of  the  argument,  Avhy  has  John  reported  them  ?  Fi'om  a 
very  simple  motive  :  It  is  that  Jesus  repeated  the  same  expressions  that 
the  disciple  had  used,  and  that  we  should  not  have  comprehended  the 
reprimand  of  the  Lord,  if  we  had  not  known  the  imprudence  of  the  dis- 
ciple. Brethren,  I  feel  constrained  to  say:  Would  to  heaven  that  all 
unbelievers  were  as  Thomas  !  His  doubts  come  from'  the  head,  the  heart 
has  nothing  to  do  with  it ;  for  myself,  I  shall  never  fear  such  doubts ; 
faith  is  easy  when  the  heart  is  sincere  and  good. 

No  conclusion  unfavorable  to  Thomas  can  be  drawn  from  the  fact  that 
the  day  when  this  conversation  took  place  is  unknown  ;  if  it  occin-red  in 
the  course  of  the  week  which  followed  the  resurrection,  concord  contin- 
ued to  reign  between  the  disciples,  because  the  succeeding  Sunday  we 
find  Thomas  again  Avith  them ;  if  it  took  place  this  same  Sunday,  Thomas 
had  no  time  to  persist  in  his  error.  It  was  in  the  same  house  Avhere, 
eight  days  previous,  Jesus  had  shown  himself  in  the  midst  of  them. 
The  hatred  of  the  Jews  was  far  from  being  calmed,  the  same  precautions 
were  necessary ;  the  doors  were  carefully  closed  ;  suddenly  they  open — 
brethren,  faith  should  never  draAV  back  before  a  miracle :  the  j^ower 
which  performs  one  can  perform  a  thousand,  and  if  there  was  a  prodigy 
"iiu-e,  why  should  we  hesitate  to  acknowledge  it  ?  Such  is  not  the  mean- 
ing of  the  account,  and  we  ought  not  to  change  into  a  useless  marvel  a 
natural  event.  The  doors  were  closed  ;  suddenly  they  open  for  Christ ; 
he  presents  himself  in  the  midst  of  the  apostles,  and  says  to  them: 
JPeace  he  loith  you  !  Thomas  was  among  them !  What  thoughts  must 
have  immediately  arisen  in  his  soul!  What  surprise,  what  apprehen- 
sion, what  joy!  How  must  his  heart  have  burned  within  him,  when  his 
eye  met,  for  the  first  time,  that  of  the  risen  Jesus  !  What  will  he  do 
now  ?  It  is  for  him  to  remain  true  to  his  own  thoughts  ;  it  is  for  him 
to  remember  that  he  demanded  to  see  ;  for  him  to  acknowledge  that  he 
does  see.  What  will  he  do '? — Thomas  remains  silent.  He  must  wait, 
he  must  leave  it  to  Jesus  to  speak ;  and,  without  opening  his  mouth,  with 
a  fixed,  immovable  eye,  he  looks  on,  while  a  thousand  different  emotions 
throng  his  heart ;  he  regrets  having  persisted  in  his  error ;  he  regrets 
that  he  did  not  place  faith  upon  the  testimony  of  his  brethren  ;  and,  at 
the  same  time,  covered  with  confusion,  seized  with  astonishment,  trans- 
ported with  joy,  he  stands  there  before  the  Lord  as  before  his  judge. 
Peace  be  with  you  !  No,  peace  could  not  yet  be  with  the  incredulous 
disciple.  And  then  it  is  toward  him  that  Christ  advances :  it  is  he 
whom  he  seeks ;  it  is  he  whom  he  names ;  it  is  to  him  that  he  addresses 
himself,  and  says  :  Reach  hither  thy  finger  and  behold  my  hands  ;  and 
reach  hither  thy  hand  and  thrust  it  into  my  side,  and  be  not  faithless, 
but  believing.     What  gentleness,  what  goodness,  in  this  censure  of  the 


THE     UNBELIEF    OF"    THOMAS.  201 

doubt,  ill  this  recall  to  faith  !  And  at  these  accents  so  well  known,  at 
these  marks  of  i)ain,  and,  above  all,  at  these  words,  the  same  that  Thomas 
had  23ronoimced  in  his  error,  and  that  Christ  alone  could  know  with- 
out having  heard  them,  the  disciple  passes  in  an  instant  to  the  most  pro- 
found conviction,  and  equally  prompt  in  his  faith  as  in  his  devotion  and  his 
doubt,  can  only  utter  a  cry  of  admiration,  of  gratitude,  and  of  love : 
My  Lord  and  my  God!  What  a  reply,  my  brethren ;  what  an  admii-- 
able  and  simple  confession  of  faith!  Acknowledge  that  he  who  believed 
in  this  Avay,  could  not  have  been  incredulous  in  a  very  culpable  manner. 
With  what  earnestness  he  believes ;  how  he  throws  himself  wholly  to- 
ward his  divine  Master,  who  comes  to  him ;  how  he  abjures  his  vain 
error,  and  now  what  is  there  in  the  world  which  can  shake  his  confi- 
dence ?  Nothing.  It  is  to  Christ  alone  that  Thomas  was  able  to  say : 
My  Lord  and  my  God!  And  these  Avords  he  will  repeat  during  the 
whole  course  of  his  apostleship,  from  country  to  country,  and  from 
island  to  island,  even  to  the  coasts  of  the  Indies,  if  the  Lord  sends  him 
there. 

II.  The  scene  that  I  have  just  retraced  for  you,  ofiers  all  the  charac- 
ters of  grandeur  and  simplicity  that  one  loves  to  recur  to  in  the  gospel. 
Christ  raised  to  life,  shows  himself  there  with  his  accustomed  glory  and 
charity,  and  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  moved  in  representing  him  to  one's 
self,  when  he  deigns  to  address  to  the  disciple  these  touching  words : 
Be  not  faithless^  hut  believing.  One  doubt  remains  to  be  cleared  up : 
On  this  memorable  evening,  when  Jesus  came  to  show  himself  to  his  dis- 
ciple, and  thus  to  fill  his  heart  with  a  lively  and  positive  faith,  did  he 
think  only  of  Thomas.  It  remains  for  me  to  prove  to  you,  that  at  this 
moment  Jesus  thought  of  all  those  who,  in  the  course  of  time,  must  be 
added  to  the  church  in  order  to  obtain  salvation. 

An  apostle  has  said,  "  TFe  loalk  hy  faith^  and  not  by  sight.''''  Breth- 
ren, how  true  and  profound  are  these  words !  You  who  believe  in  God 
and  Christ — you  who  consider  the  gospel  as  the  sole  rule  of  your  opin- 
ions, your  hopes,  your  duties — look  around  you  ;  contemplate  the  world, 
life,  religion.  Providence ;  of  all  that  you  believe,  you  see  nothing. 
Tell  me  what  there  is  to  be  seen  in  the  church  of  Christ ;  tell  me  what 
are  the  visible  things  which  can  occupy  your  faith.  O  vanity !  A  little 
water  for  the  foreheads  of  our  children,  once  in  their  infancy ;  a  little 
bread,  a  little  wine  for  ourselves ;  that  is  all  we  see.  Is,  then,  that 
Christianity?  No.  Christianity  is  invisible,  like  the  God  who  made  it. 
Christianity  is  within,  and  not  without,  the  human  heart ;  behold  its  only 
domain  ;  and  we  walk  by  faith^  not  by  sight. 

Pursue  this  idea  into  its  details,  and  you  Avill  recognize  how  simple 
and  easy  it  is.  You  expect,  you  desire  sanctification  ;  for  you  know  that 
without  holiness  no  one  icill  see  the  Lord.,  and  that  we  are  commanded 
to  be  perfect  as  otir  Father  tcho  is  in  heaven  is  perfect.  You  are  impa- 
tient to  be  freed  from  the  fatal  faculty  that  we  have  of  sinning  ;  you  are 
anxious  that  all  terrestrial  defilement  should  be  eflaced  from  our  heaits, 


202  .  ATHANASE     COQUEREL. 

and  that  all  our  passions  slionld  be  changed  into  a  pure  and  virtuous 
energy  ;  you  seek  sanctiiication,  and  what  yoii  see  above  all  else  around 
and  in  you  is  sinfulness.  Where  is  this  holiness  that  you  desire  ?  You 
have  never  seen  it — you  never  will  see  it  on  earth  ;  for  we  are  all  un^ 
^yrofitable  servants^  and,  on  a  thousand  articles,  we  could  not  reply  to  a 
single  one. 

Again,  you  await  impatiently  a  condition  happier  than  this  life;  a 
state  in  which  your  peace  wall  not  be  so  often  troubled  ;  one  without 
disquietude,  without  suffering,  without  poverty,  without  injustice  ;  you 
expect  perfect  felicity,  and  you  see  around  you  only  misery  and  trouble ; 
in  vain  you  look  through  this  world  ;  an  ever  pure  happiness  does  not 
exist  here  ;  we  know  it  so  well  that  we  no  longer  seek  it  here ;  every- 
where there  are  some  leaves  dried  and  faded  on  the  most  flourishing 
and  beautiful  tree. 

Finally,  you  desire — you  impatiently  await — immortality,  and  you  see 
around  you  only  tombs.  Immortal  beings  as  we  are,  we  all  have  borne, 
bear  now,  or  shall  bear,  sorrow^ ;  and  the  sorrow  is  seen,  but  the  immor- 
tality is  not  seen.  And  in  vain  you  who  weep  over  the  grave,  in  vain 
you  who,  like  Mary,  seat  yourselves  at  the  door  of  the  sepulcher — in 
vain  do  you  essay  to  pierce  the  shades  of  death  ;  in  vain,  through  your 
tears,  do  you  attempt  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  immortality.  No ;  you  see 
only  the  dust,  a  shroud,  and  the  worms ;  all  the  rest  is  concealed. 
Brethren,  with  so  many  examples,  you  must  acknowledge  that  sanctifica- 
tion,  true  bliss,  immortality — admirable  objects  for  our  efforts,  holy 
promises  of  the  Lord,  celestial  certainties  of  our  future — all  are  invis- 
ible. We  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight.  To  believe,  is  to  represent 
the  truth  to  one's  self,  and  not  to  see  it. 

We  walk  by  faith  ;  and  a  thousand  generations  before  us,  and  all 
those  who  shall  pass  upon  this  earth  after  us,  shall  do  the  same.  We 
walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight ;  and  behold,  a  disciple,  an  apostle, 
Thomas,  one  of  the  most  ardent  and  zealous,  who  cries,  "  If  I  do  not 
see  and  touch,  I  will  not  believe."  Do  you  conceive  now  all  the  danger 
of  this  example  ?  If  it  were  necessary  to  see  in  order  to  believe,  who, 
then,  Avould  believe?  How  many  Christians  would  there  have  been  in 
this  world,  and  how  long  a  time  would  the  church  have  endured?  There 
would  have  been  a  single  generation  of  believers,  and  the  church  would 
have  ended  at  the  ascension  of  Jesus  Christ. 

What,  then,  did  Jesus  do,  in  order  to  adjust  every  thing,  to  reconcile 
the  interest  of  a  disciple  whom  he  did  not  wish  to  abandon  in  his  error, 
wdth  the  interest  of  so  many  believers  who  lived  their  life  either  before 
or  after  the  gospel,  and  who  could  not  see  Jesus  on  the  earth  ? 

O,  my  brethren  !  Jesus  anticipated  the  apostle  ;  he  accorded  to  him 
the  proof  that  he  demanded  ;  he  made  the  discijile  look  upon  him ;  he 
showed  to  him  the  wounds  of  the  nails  of  the  cross ;  he  forced  out  from 
his  heart  these  Avords  of  consecration  and  faith  :  3Iy  Lord  and  my  God! 
and  in  order  that  no  one  should  imagine  that  he  had  any  reason  to  regret 


THE     UNBELIEF     OF     THOMAS.  203 

tliis  piivilcge,  and  the  right  to  say :  When  I  see  I  shall  believe,  Jesus 
said  to  Thomas:  Because  thou  hast  seen  me,  thou  hast  believed ;  blessed 
ore  they  %oho  have  not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed!  that  is  to  say,  their 
faith  is  better  still  than  thine,  and  their  recompense  will  be  better  than  thy 
recompense.  What  wisdom  and  equity  in  these  words !  What  a  just 
division  established  between  the  cotemporaries  of  Jesus  on  the  one  part, 
and  on  the  other,  the  believei-s  Avho  pi-eceded  him  upon  the  earth,  and 
we  Avho  come  after  him  !  What  justice  is  this,  which  weighs  thus  the 
faith  of  the  entire  world  in  its  balance,  foi'gets  not  to  place  in  the  line  of 
the  account  the  difficulties  or  facilities  that  one  finds  in  believing,  meas- 
ures the  success  by  the  efforts  it  costs,  and  approves  in  proportion  to 
what  it  has  been  necessary  to  do  in  order  to  be  approved. 

See,  then,  how  senseless  are  the  regrets  and  murmurs  that  one  some- 
times hears  in  regard  to  the  eighteen  centuries  elapsed  since  the  gospel. 
We  have  come  too  late  into  the  world,  say  these  imprudent  Christians, 
and  if  Ave  had  seen  Jesus  Christ,  Ave  should  knoAV  him  better.  Ah  !  how 
many  of  these  rash  men  would  then  have  seen  only  the  son  of  Mary  ? 
HoAv  many,  perhaps,  Avould  have  taken  him  for  a  Samaritan,  an  impostor, 
a  rebel  ?  Plow  many,  the  day  after  the  resurrection,  woiild  have  said  : 
If  I  do  not  see  the  wounds  of  the  crucified,  I  will  not  belicA^e  ?  and  Christ 
would  have  replied  to  them  as  to  Thomas :  Blessed  are  they  icho  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed  !  This  one  expression  re-establishes  the 
equilibrium  betAveen  the  cotemporaries  of  Christ,  and  ourselves,  and  all 
the  generations  of  the  earth  ;  this  one  phrase  recognizes  to  each  his  rights, 
assigns  to  each  his  hopes — it  proA^es  that  salvation  is  open  to  all,  and 
that  no  one  is  forgotten  in  the  mercies  of  the  Lord.  *  *  *  Patriarchs 
and  prophets,  illustrious  exam})les  of  the  world,  you  who  believed  your- 
selves to  be  only  strangers  and  soJou7')iers  upon  the  earth,  you  who 
hailed  from,  afar  the  day  of  the  Lord,  trembling  %oith  joy,  blessed 
are  you,  for  you  have  not  seen,  and  yet  you  have  believed.  *  *  * 
People  of  all  places,  generations  of  all  ages,  to  you  also  salvation  is 
offered,  and  your  faith  may  attend  Avithout  uneasiness  the  moment  to 
be  changed  to  sight.  Let  us  adore,  O  my  brethren,  these  boundless 
mercies  Avhere  we  have  each  our  part.  Let  us  be  persuaded  that  our 
faith  is  as  acceptable  to  the  Lord  as  that  of  any  of  his  children. 
Let  us  be  persuaded,  that,  in  grace  as  in  Providence,  one  day  is  as  a 
thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day ;  let  us  not  look 
behind,  but  advance  toward  the  end  Avhich  is  proposed  to  us ;  let  us 
keep  the  faith  in  a  pure  conscience,  and  Avalking  with  a  firm  step  amid 
that  which  is  but  show,  content  Avith  the  assurances  which  are  given  to 
us;  Ave  shall  prefer  to  these  marks  of  the  cross,  to  these  signs  of  suffering 
and  death,  even  to  the  open  tomb  near  which  the  remeinbrances  of  this 
day  reunite  all  believers,  the  glorious  vision  of  Stephen,  AAdio  saAv  the 
heavens  opened,  and  the  Son  of  man  at  the  right  liand  of  God  ;  and 
fiom  the  depth  of  our  J  3arts  will  arise  this  unanimous  adoration  :  My 
Lord  and  my  God! 


DISCOURSE    XVI. 

WILLIAM      MONOD. 

"  It  would  be  impossible,"  says  Dr.  Baird,  "  to  name  in  France  a  Protestant  fam- 
ily more  truly  or  more  justly  esteemed  for  its  virtues,  or  for  the  number  of  its  emi- 
nently useful  members,  than  that  of  the  Monods."  The  father  was  a  sincere  and 
honest  Christian  minister,  and  conscientiously  desirous  of  doing  his  duty,  as  far  aa 
he  knew  it.  He  was  a  native  of  Gleneva,  where  he  received  his  education.  When 
he  entered  the  ministry,  which  was  before  the  first  Eevolution  of  France,  he  could 
only  find  a  place  for  laboring  in  French  Switzerland,  or  in  the  French  chapels  of 
G-ermany  and  other  foreign  lands.  He  went  to  Copenhagen,  and  there  preached  to 
a  small  French  congregation  for  many  years.  While  occupying  that  position,  he 
had  it  in  his  power  to  minister  to  the  wants  of  not  a  few  Frenchmen,  whom  the 
*'  Reign  of  Terror"  in  France  drove  from  that  land.  Among  them  was  Louis  Phi- 
lippe, son  of  the  infamous  Duke  of  Orleans  (or  Prince  Egalite,  as  he  chose  to  be 
called),  who  for  a  whUe  figured  in  that  bloody  drama.  This  was  not  forgotten  by 
that  distinguished  exile,  when,  nearly  forty  years  afterward,  he  became  King  of 
France.  As  Mr.  Monod  was  called  to  occupy  a  post  in  the  Reformed  Protestant 
churches  of  Paris,  which  were  opened  by  the  orders  of  the  great  Napoleon,  he  left 
the  Danish  capital  and  took  up  his  abode  in  that  of  France,  and  was  for  many  years 
before  his  death  (which  occurred,  we  beheve,  in  1836)  president  of  the  Consistory 
of  those  churches. 

Eight  sons  survived  the  father's  death,  four  of  whom  were  ministers :  Dr.  Adolphe 
(now  deceased),  and  Reverends  Frederic,  William,  and  Horace.  Of  the  other  four, 
Henry  and  Edward  are  merchants  in  Hanse,  distinguished  for  their  intelligence  and 
probity,  and  both  members  of  an  evangehcal  church ;  one  (Gustavus)  is  a  highly- 
esteemed  and  useful  physician  in  Paris ;  and  another  still  (Valdimir)  is  a  banker  or 
broker  in  the  same  city.  There  are  also  three  sisters,  one  of  whom  is  married  to  a 
Protestant  minister. 

The  Rev.  William  Monod  is  older  than  was  Dr.  Adolphe,  though  younger  than 
his  brother  Frederic.  He  was,  more  than  twenty  years  ago,  pastor  of  a  Protestant 
church  in  St.  Quintin  in  the  north  of  France.  His  health  failing,  he  resided  some 
time  in  France,  and  was  afterward  a  minister  in  the  Canton  de  Vaud,  in  Switzer- 
land, and  more  recently  in  Algiers  and  Rouen.  Since  the  death  of  his  brother 
Adolphe,  he  has  been  pastor,  in  Paris,  of  the  National  church,  where  he  has  taken 
the  place  of  Dr.  Grandpierre,  which  was  vacated  by  his  being  chosen  the  successor 
of  Dr.  Adolphe  Monod. 

He  is  an  e^xcellent  man,  of  a  truly  evangelical  and  devoted  spirit,  and  a  strong 
preacher. 


GOD'S     CONTROVERSY     WITH     HIS     PEOPLE.  9^5 

Says  the  Rev.  Dr.  Stevens,  in  his  European  correspondence:  "Rev.  William 
Monod  reminds  me  of  Channing.  He  looks  feeble,  and  yet  intellectually  strong 
and  elevated,  as  did  Channing ;  and  there  is  a  striking  similarity  of  feature,  espec- 
ially of  forehead,  though  none  of  opinion,  between  them.  He  is,  withal,  a  man  of 
similar  benignity — mild,  amiable,  tenderly  courteous  in  his  manners.  No  man  here 
has  made  a  deeper  impression  on  my  own  heart.  He  is  the  great  man  among  the 
great  men  of  the  Monod  family,  to  whom  French  Protestantism  is  so  much  m- 
debted.  He  has  a  thrilling  eloquence;  and  the  most  powerful  speech  dehvered  at 
the  convention  came  spontaneously  from  his  lips  in  an  appeal  to  French  Protestants 
to  have  more  faith  in  the  signs  of  the  times  for  their  cause.  He,  too,  has  stood 
through  troublous  times ;  he  is  now  the  chief  representative  of  Protestantism  in  old 
Normandy." 

The  sermon  which  we  have  translated  for  this  work  will  increase  his  reputation 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  It  bears  the  marks  of  great  originality  and  mental  power. 
Some  of  its  passages,  for  strength  of  expression,  are  rarely  equaled.  It  was  pub- 
lished several  years  ago  in  pamphlet  form,  and  is  kindly  furnished  us  by  M.  Edoir 
Stapfer,  of  New  York  city,  himself  a  relative  of  the  Monod  family.  The  title  of  the 
pamphlet,  in  the  original,  is,  "  Le  Procds  cle  VEternel  avec  son  Peuph." 


GOD'S  CONTROVERSY  WITH  HIS  PEOPLE. 

"  For  the  Lord  hath  a  controversy  with  his  people,  and  he  will  plead  with  Israel .  0, 
my  people,  what  have  I  done  unto  thee?  and  wherein  have  1  wearied  thee?  testify  against 
me.  For  I  brought  thee  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  redeemed  thee  out  of  the  house  of 
servants ;  and  I  sent  before  thee  Moses,  Aaron,  and  Miiiam." — Micah,  vi.  2-4. 

AYhat  is  this  controversy  between  God  and  his  people ;  and  what  is 
this  plea  which  the  Almighty  uses  ?  It  is  not  a  controversy  which  God 
has  begun  with  Israel,  but,  rather,  a  controversy  Avhich  Israel  has  begun 
with  God.  It  is  a  plea  in  justification,  offered  by  the  Almighty,  who  re- 
gards himself  as  accused  by  his  people.  It  is  man  who  is  the  plaintiff  in 
this  astonishing  process ;  and  it  is  God  who  appears  as  the  defendant  to 
argue  in  his  own  behalf 

Israel  has,  thus  far,  said  nothing ;  and  Ave  are  at  a  loss,  at  first,  to  un- 
derstand how  God  should  I'cgard  himself  as  the  accused.  Israel  has  com- 
l)lained  neither  of  the  severity  of  his  laws,  nor  of  the  severity  of  liis 
judgments.  But  God  has  perceived  in  the  conduct  of  his  people  some- 
thing equivalent  to  a  formal  accusation — something  proving  that,  while 
tliey  honored  him  with  their  lips  and  their  sacrifices,  they  had  no  sin 
ccrity,  and  they  regarded  his  service  as  grievous  and  fatiguing. 

For  this  reason,  God  thus  begins  his  plea :  "  What  liave  I  done  unto 
thee  ?  and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee  ?  testify  against  rac."  He  sum- 
mons Israel  to  an  explanation ;  he  bids  the  people  to  show  what  he  has 
done  to  merit  their  ill  treatment,  and  wherein  his  service  is  Avearisometo 
them.     He  summons  them,  not  as  the  sovereign  judge  of  the  universe, 


206  WILLIAM     MOXOD. 

but  as  a  friend  who  comi^lains  of  the  coldness  of  one  still  cherished — as  a 
husband  who  complains  of  a  wife  to  whom  he  is  devoted,  and  upon  whom 
he  does  not  cease  to  bestow  the  most  tender  names.  He  speaks  as  with 
a  consciousness  of  his  innocence,  and  as  if  determined  to  do  all  in  his 
power,  not  to  triumph  over  his  accusers,  but  to  conciliate  them,  avoiding 
all  that  can  wound  them,  and  reminding  them  of  none  of  their  wicked- 
ness, except  with  evident  regret  that  he  is  compelled  to  do  it.  In  plead- 
ing against  them,  he  does  not  fail  to  call  them  his  people  :  "  O,  my 
people,  what  have  I  done  uuto  thee;  and  wherein  have  I  wearied  thee  ? 
testify  against  me." 

The  expression  used  by  God  in  the  writings  of  the  prophet,  and  which 
is  translated  by  these  words  :  "  Testify  against  me,"  is  a  plain  invitation 
to  his  people  to  bring  forward  complaints  against  him.  And  what  will 
they  do?  The  field  is  open  to  them.  God  has  allowed  them  to  justify 
themselves  in  accusing  him,  and  expressing  in  words  what  they  have  ex- 
pressed in  deeds.  They  may  show  all  the  stripes  with  which  he  has 
smitten  them  ;  all  the  evils  with  which  they  were  suifering,  even  at  the 
moment  when  he  was  addressing  them  ;  they  may  bring  forward  their 
objections  to  his  commandments  and  to  his  word  ;  but  they  do  nothing — 
they  show  nothing — they  object  to  nothing — they  say  nothing.  Why 
this  silence  ?  Why  this  speechlessness  on  the  part  of  a  murmuring  peo- 
ple, when  God  himself,  thus  to  speak,  had  invited  them  to  murmur? 
Might  it  be  that  the  love  with  which  their  God  had  addressed  them  could 
not  fail  to  confound  them,  and  to  make  them  feel  that  it  would  be  folly 
to  pretend  to  prove  him  to  be  their  enemy  ?  Might  it  not  be  that  their 
o'onscience  warned  them,  that  in  each  particular  in  which  they  might 
accuse  the  Almighty,  he  would  be  able  to  accuse  them,  and,  likewise,  to 
justify  every  stripe  which  he  had  laid  upon  them  by  iniquities  as  nume- 
rous as  these  stripes,  and  fully  deserving  of  them  ?  Mau  does  not  cease  to 
murmur  against  God,  as  did  Job  in  the  midst  of  his  griefs ;  Uke  him, 
man  could  wish  to  be  able  to  reason  with,  and  utter  his  complaints  before 
God;  but  if  God  should  suddenly  appear,  and  say  to  him,  as  he  did  to 
Job  :  "  Gird  up  now  thy  loins  like  a  man  ;  for  I  will  demand  of  thee,  and 
answer  thou  me,"  he  would,  like  Job,  fear  to  open  his  mouth.  Such,  in- 
deed, was  the  meaning  of  Israel's  silence. 

God,  then,  undertakes  to  answer  for  the  people.  He  enumerates  the 
evils  which  he  has  brought  upon  them,  and  shows  in  what  manner  he 
has  wearied  them.  He  wishes,  as  it  were,  to  confess  his  crime,  and  thus 
proclaims  it :  "I  brought  thee  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  re- 
deemed thee  out  of  the  house  of  servants  ;  and  I  sent  before  thee  Moses, 
Aaron,  and  Miriam." 

Do  you  understand  this  language,  my  brethren  ?  It  signifies,  that, 
from  the  first  moment  of  his  connection  with  the  people  of  Israel,  God 
made  himself  known  to  them  as  a  God  of  love,  and  that  the  establish- 
ni'jut  of  his  alliance  with  then,  was  a  work  of  Tove;  that  he  drew  thora 


GOD'S    CONlllOYERSY     WITH     HIS    PliOPLE.  207 

from  servitude,  and  gave  to  tlieiii  as  leaders,  not  tyrants,  but  prophets 
full  of  gentleness,  charged  with  guiding  them  toward  the  land  of  prona- 
ise  ;  that  it  was  by  this  comniencement,  and  by  this  work,  that  the 
people  of  Israel  ought  to  judge  their  God;  and  that  neither  his  word 
nor  his  dispensation  can  contain  any  thing  that  does  not  proceed  from 
this  same  love.  This  language  signifies,  in  short,  that  God's  benefits 
themselves  have  spoiled  the  people  of  Israel,  and  that  his  solicitude  for 
their  welfare  has  wearied  them ;  they  took  advantage  of  his  mercy  to- 
ward them  in  Egypt,  and  thought  that  they  might  sin  against  him  with- 
out fear;  and  the  tender  appeals  of  the  messengers  of  God,  who  exhorted 
them  to  love  and  serve  him,  wearied  them ;  and  thus  it  was  that  they 
abandoned  God  and  closed  their  ears  to  his  prophets. 

Need  I  tell  you,  my  brethren,  what  application  we  have  to  make  of 
these  words  of  the  Almighty  ?  Has  not  each  one  of  you  repeated  that  ap- 
plication to  himself,  and  anticipated  the  aim,  and  almost  traced  the  plan 
of  the  discourse  of  which  these  words  form  the  subject  ?  The  people  are 
ourselves — are  Christians  in  general ;  for  the  people  of  Israel  have  been, 
throughout  all  their  history,  a  prophetic  image  of  the  Christian  world,  or 
of  the  Christian  church.  The  plea  of  the  Almighty  is  that  of  God  mani- 
fest to  us  in  Jesus  Christ,  who  complains  that  we  seem  willing  to  fall  out 
with  him,  as  if  we  found  fault  with  what  he  has  done,  and  as  if  we  were 
weary  of  his  service.  He  summons  us  to  specify  our  complaints,  and 
wishes  to  justify  himself  against  us.  This  is  the  justification  which  I  am 
about  to  pronounce  in  the  name  of  God.  I  shall  plead  his  cause.  I  shall 
plead  as  he  has  done,  not  to  triumph  over  you,  but  to  convince  you  of 
his  love,  and  to  gain  your  love  by  his  love.  There  will  be,  however,  a 
difference  between  my  plea  and  his.  I  shall  re-establish  what  he  has 
suppressed  ;  I  shall  recapitulate  the  works  by  which  we  have,  as  it 
were,  accused  him,  and  proved  that  we  regard  the  Almighty  as  a  griev- 
ous master,  and  his  service  as  a  burden.  If  God  has  suppressed  this 
l)art  of  his  plea,  it  is  to  leave  it  to  our  conscience  to  re-establish  it. 

O  God,  who  contendest  not  with  man,  although  man  contends  so  often 
with  thee,  or  who  contendest  with  him  in  order  to  bring  him  to  thyself; 
O  God  the  Saviour,  justify  thyself  in  presence  of  thy  sinful  creatures,  and 
gain  thy  cause  in  saving  them  !     Amen. 

I.  The  first  point  upon  wliich  Christians  have  made  a  controversy 
with  God,  is  his  worshij). 

And  what  is  the  worship  of  God — I  mean  the  worship  established  by 
his  word  ?  It  is  not  difticult  to  answer  this  question  under  the  old  dis- 
pensation, that  under  which  God  called  to  his  knowledge  the  Israelites 
alone ;  for  God  had  taken  care  to  explain  to  them  the  worship  which 
they  ought  to  render  to  him,  even  in  the  minutest  details.  lie  himself 
had  traced  the  plan  of  the  tabernacle,  and  subsequently  of  the  temple, 
where  he  wished  to  be  publicly  adored  ;  he  had  iletervniued  tlie  form  ot 


208  VILLIAM    MOXOD. 

all  the  sacrifices  ;  he  had  designated  the  pi'iests,  choosing  them  all  from 
the  same  fomily.  The  days,  the  hours  of  all  the  services  were  indicated. 
The  only  thing  undetermined  and  left  to  the  choice  of  each  flither  of  a 
family,  was  the  domestic  altar.  N"othing,  therefore,  was  more  accessible 
to  an  Israelite  than  the  knowledge  of  the  worship  prescribed  by  God. 

But  to  the  Christian  this  is  not  a  matter  of  so  much  simphcity.  As  mucli 
as  Moses  is  precise  and  positive  upon  this  subject,  so  much  Jesus  Christ 
and  the  apostles  fall  short  in  their  instructions.  In  vain  do  we  search 
the  New  Testament  for  a  clear  response  to  these  questions:  "What 
should  be  the  "form  of  Christian  worship  ?  In  what  places  should  it  be 
celebrated  ?  What  should  be  its  solemnities  ?  According  to  what  rules 
should  the  ministers  of  this  worship  be  instituted  ? 

All  that  we  can  see  in  the  teachings  of  the  apostles,  concerning  wor- 
ship, is,  that  the  Christian  church  ought  to  retain  what  God  established 
for  the  church  of  Israel,  as  to  the  Spirit  and  the  essentials,  leaving  the 
external  forms  and  the  letter.  Thus,  public  worship  is  preserved  without 
designating  any  places  for  holding  it ;  the  institution  of  the  ministry  is 
preserved,  with  a  difference  of  names,  but  Avithout  any  designation  of 
persons.  Jesus  Christ  has  prescribed  for  his  church  only  two  ceremo- 
nies— Baptism  and  tbe  Lord's  Supper. 

Search  has  been  made  for  a  more  clear  idea  of  Christian  worship  by  the 
example  of  Jesus  and  the  apostles — but  this  search  has  been  in  vain ;  for 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  apostles  had  no  prescribed  form  of  worship.  The 
first  form  of  worship  in  which  we  find  Christ  engaged,  after  the  descent 
upon  him  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  that  established  by  the  prophet,  John  the 
Baptist.  He  who  instituted  this  worship  had  quitted  the  temple,  and 
laid  aside  his  priestly  robes  to  go  and  preach  in  the  desert,  clothed  in  a 
girdle  of  camel's  hair.  You  might  believe  that  God  wished  to  abolish 
the  services  of  the  temple  ;  but,  behold  Jesus  Christ  entering  the  temple 
whence  John  the  Baptist  had  just  departed;  behold  him  engaged  in  the 
Levitical  solemnities,  and  in  the  national  solemnities  of  the  Jews,  Do 
not  conclude  from  this,  that  he  approves  of  no  other  worship  ;  for,  behold 
him  also  preaching  in  the  deserts,  or  upon  the  waters  of  the  sea  of  Tibe- 
rias, seated  in  a  vessel,  or  at  the  door  of  a  house,  or  in  the  house  itself. 
Wherever  he  finds  souls  disposed  to  listen  to  him — in  the  synagogue  or 
out  of  the  synagogue,  in  public  or  in  private — he  is  ready  to  impart  his 
divine  instructions.  By  turns,  he  subjects  himself  to  all  the  forms  of 
Levitical  worship,  and  shakes  off  these  forms  as  embarrassing  chains.  So 
is  it  with  the  apostles.  Sometimes  we  see  them  testifying  their  resiJect 
for  the  temple,  and  there  offering  their  sacrifices,  and  sometimes  aban- 
doning all  the  Levitical  observances,  and  opposing  themselves  strenuously 
to  what  is  imposed  upon  pagans  who  embrace  the  gospel.'  Precise  rules 
concerning  worship  can  no  more  be  found  in  the  practice  of  Jesus  Christ 
and  of  his  disciples,  than  in  their  precepts. 

Why  has  God  thus  ordered  it  ?     Why  this  silence  and  these  apparent 


GOD'S     COXTROYERSY    WITH     HIS     PEOPLE.  OQp 

contradictions  in  the  conduct  of  the  Saviour  and  his  disciples?  Tlie 
Savioin*,  in  a  single  word,  explains  it,  when  he  replies  to  the  woman  Avho 
asks  liiui  whether  God  should  be  Avorshiped  in  Jerusalem  or  upon  jMount 
Gerizim.  "Believe  me,"  said  he,  "the  hoiir  cometh,  when  ye  shall 
neither  in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem,  worship  the  Father.  Ye 
worship  ye  know  not  what :  we  know  what  we  worship,  for  salvation  is 
of  the  Jews,  But  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is,  when  the  true  worshii> 
ers  shall  worship  the  Father  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ;  for  the  Father  seek- 
oth  such  to  worship  liim.  God  is  a  Spirit,  and  they  that  worship  him, 
must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  This  reply  teaches  us  that  the 
only  true  worship  is  that  of  the  heart,  that  of  faith.  A  sincere,  believing 
heart  is  the  temple  in  which  the  Christian  always  finds  his  Father,  what- 
ever may  be  the  form  of  his  worship  ;  out  of  this  temple  God  is  never 
found.  Such  is  Christ's  doctrine  in  regard  to  worship.  Such  is  his  woi'ship. 
And  it  is  in  opposition  to  this  doctrine  that  men  have  arrayed  themselves 
— it  is  the  worship  established  by  Jesus  Christ  that  has  displeased  them. 

Some  desire  ceremonies  whose  pomp  may  strike  the  eye,  and  speak  to 
the  itnagination  ;  priests  whose  costume  may  exalt  this  worship  in  the 
eyes  of  the  multitude  ;  images  which  may  recall  to  the  memory  of  Chi-ist- 
ians  those  who  appeared  worthy  to  serve  as  models,  and  even,  what  God 
has  so  strictly  forbidden,  images  which  they  may  adore  ;  finally,  sacra- 
ments— a  new  name  given,  in  a  new  sense,  to  baptism  and  to  the  Lord's 
Su[)per,  and  ajiplied  to  other  ceremonies,  invented  by  men,  to  subject  the 
conscience.  Such  is  the  worship  of  the  Roman  Catholic  and  Gieek 
churches.  Some  desire  a  worship  which  may  retain  a  part  of  the  Cath- 
olic pomp  and  forms,  while  it  abolishes  its  idolatry.  Such  is  the  worship 
of  the  English  Protestant  church.  Some  desire  a  worship  purely  simple, 
but  still  recognizing,  in  different  forms,  baptism  and  the  communion. 
Such  is  the  worship  of  the  great  body  of  Protestants.  Some  desire  a 
worship,  in  which  baptism  is  refused  to  hifants.  Such  is  the  worship  ot' 
the  Baptists.  Some  desire  a  worship  which  permits  the  commmiion  to 
be  administered  on  certain  conditions — men  being  the  judges.  Such  i? 
the  worhip  of  the  disciplinary  Protestants — the  Methodists  and  the  dis- 
senters. Others  recognize  as  the  true  Christian  worship,  only  that  which 
admits  their  own  opinions,  whether  upon  predestination,  or  upon  the 
Lord's  Supper,  or  upon  other  points  discussed  by  Christians.  Others 
there  are,  who  recognize  no  worship  separated  fi-oin  the  State,  while 
t  here  are  others,  again,  who  recognize  no  worship  connected  with  the  State. 

Whether  Catholic  or  Protestant,  each  disputes  for  his  own  worshij), 
i'ur  the  form  of  his  worship,  for  the  place  of  his  worship,  and  Avishes  that 
none  other  existed  upon  the  earth,  and  that  all  Christians  adored  God 
according  to  his  peculiar  notions ;  and,  too  often,  even  in  our  days,  they 
dispute  with  one  another,  and  calumniate  one  another,  and  revile  one 
another  for  petty  questions  of  worship  !  Alas  !  tliey  even  do  violence  to 
one  another,  because  each  wishes  the  other  to  serve  God  in  such  or  such 

14 


210  WILLIAM    MOXOD. 

a  place,  in  such  or  such  a  manner.  Each  of  the  churches  which  coveT 
the  earth,  pretends  to  be  the  most  Christian  ;  each  ptetencls  to  have  the 
worship  estabhshed  by  Jesus  Christ. 

O  Lord !  thus  it  is  that  thy  disciples  have  made  thee  an  idolater, 
a  carnal  God,  a  lover  of  ceremonies,  and  of  spectacles,  bound  by  certain 
signs,  by  certain  places,  by  certain  forms !  They  have  changed  thy  table 
to  the  table  of  a  judge  or  of  a  harsh  theologian  !  They  have  changed 
thee,  thyself,  into  a  persecutor,  and  they  say  to  men :  "  Behold  our  Mas- 
ter !"  How  wilt  thou  prove  thyself  against  them  ?  How  wilt  thou 
make  known  to  the  world  that  worship,  simple,  pure,  and  tolerant,  which 
Christians  have  abolished.  To  do  this  requires  from  thee  but  a  single 
word :  it  is  sufficient  for  thee  to  declare  to  the  world  whom  thou  art. 
What  part  hast  thou  had  in  all  these  external  institutions  which  separate 
Christians,  and  to  which  they  give  so  much  importance  ?  None.  Thou 
hast  so  loved  all  men  as  to  lay  down  thy  life  for  them,  and  thou  hast 
besought  them  to  love  God  who  sent  thee  to  them,  and  to  love  one 
another ;  this  is  thy  worship.  Whoever  loves  God  and  men  for  thy  sake, 
whoevei"  eats  at  thy  table  as  at  the  table  of  his  Saviour,  and  of  the  Sa- 
viour of  his  fellow-men,  adores  God.  as  thou  wouldst  have  him  adored. 
Whoever  loves  not  God,  and  loves  not  men,  rejects  and  abolishes  the 
worship  which  thou  hast  established.  Tliis  is  what  Christians  have  done. 
They  have  rejected  the  simplicity  and  the  beauty  of  thy  worship,  substi- 
tuting for  it  their  own  ordinances. 

n.  Tlie  second  point  upon  which  Cliristians  have  made  a  controversy 
with  God  is  Ids  doctrine^  or  the  truth  which  he  has  revealed  to  us. 

In  entering  upon  this  subject,  I  make  a  confession  which  may  cause 
surprise,  namely,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  Scripture  is  often  obscure.  I 
do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  Scripture  does  not  contain  truths  the  most 
clear ;  but,  if  you  observe  closely,  you  will  find  that  everywhere,  while 
it  enlightens  us,  it  arrests  our  minds  by  certain  obscurities.  If  it  reveals 
to  us  clearly  that  God  created  the  world,  it  is  silent  in  regard  to  the 
mysteries  of  creation,  and  replies  not  to  the  questions  raised  by  its  own 
narrative  of  that  event.  What  are  these  six  days  of  the  first  work  of 
God  ?  How  did  the  light  appear  when  the  heavens  were  already  created, 
and  the  sun  when  it  was  already  light?  If  it  informs  us  that  the  first 
man  sinned,  it  does  not  tell  us  why  God  gave  power  to  a  serpent,  or  to 
a  malicious  being  concealed  in  the  serpent,  to  tempt  man ;  it  does  not 
enable  us  to  understand  clearly  what  constitutes  this  moral  misery  which 
Adam  has  transmitted  to  his  descendants.  A  profound  obscurity  envel- 
opes these  mysteries,  and,  for  the  Christian,  vail,  the  wisdom  and  holiness 
of  God.  If  it  teaches  us  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  embassador  and  the 
Son  of  God,  it  does  not  explain  clearly  how  Jesus  Christ  can,  at  the 
same  time,  be  our  God  and  our  fellow.  It  says  that  God  is  one,  and 
speaks  of  the  Father,  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  of  three 


GOE'S    CONTROYERSY    "VTITH    HIS    PEOPLE.  211 

different  persons,  of  whom  each  is  God.  It  says  that  God  is  love,  that 
he  has  given  his  Son  for  all  men,  and  speaks  of  a  small  number  of  elect. 
It  speaks,  at  the  same  time,  of  the  heavens  and  of  the  earth  as  about  to 
jjerish,  and  as  not  about  to  perish.  It  speaks  of  the  resurrection  as 
about  to  take  place  at  the  end  of  the  world,  and  it  speaks  of  it,  also,  as 
about  to  precede  that  event. 

It  is  easy  for  me,  as  you  perceive,  to  multiply  proofs  that  the  doctrine 
of  the  Scripture  is  often  obscure.  Saint  Paul  recognized  this  very  thing 
when  he  said :  "  N^ow^  we  see  as  through  a  glass  darkly."  (1  Cor.,  xiii.  12.) 
He  adds,  however,  "  but  then  face  to  face." 

What  have  Christians  done  in  view  of  these  obscurities  ?  They  have 
endeavored  to  dissipate  them  by  their  own  light,  and  have  thus  substi- 
tuted a  filse  light  in  place  of  the  mysteries  of  God.  To  the  teachings 
of  the  Bible  have  been  added  human  teachings,  which  have  been  put 
upon  an  equality  wdth  the  Bible,  and  the  pope  has  been  set  up  in  the 
stead  of  Jesus  Christ.  Councils  of  bishoi5S  have  determined  and  pre- 
tended to  throw  light  upon  the  mysteries  of  sin,  of  divine  grace,  of  the 
nature  of  God,  of  Jesus  Chiist,  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  have  perse- 
cuted with  fa-e  and  sword  those  w^ho  would  not  receive  their  definitions. 

Certain  theologians  have  transported  themselves  beyond  the  day  of 
the  creation,  and  have  pretended  to  see  God,  previous  to  that  event, 
dividing  the  human  race  into  two  portions  :  the  one  very  small,  and  des- 
tined to  be  saved,  the  other  innumerable,  devoted  to  eternal  damnation, 
and  created  expressly  to  sin,  in  order  that,  by  sin,  they  might  merit  this 
damnation.  Others  have  descended  into  the  grave,  where  thej^  have 
seen  the  dead  sleeping  insensible  for  ages.  Others  have  ascended  into 
heaven,  where  they  have  witnessed  every  thing  done  by  the  angels,  and 
have  related  to  us  their  history.  Others,  passing  beyond  the  limits  of 
time,  have  recorded  the  future  history  of  the  world  as  if  they  had  been 
its  witnesses.  All  this  has  been  done  in  the  name  of  God,  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  of  the  Bible. 

And  what  more  shall  I  say  ?  Learned  doctors  have  been  found  (and 
it  is  to  the  shame  of  Protestantism  that  they  are  found  especially  among 
Protestants)  ;  learned  doctors,  I  say,  have  been  found,  who,  under  pi-e- 
tense  that  the  Bible  is  obscui-e,  and  that  it  needs  an  explanation,  have 
robbed  it  of  its  divinity,  have  treated  it  as  a  work  of  human  invention,  as  a 
confused  medley  of  truth  and  falsehood,  of  facts  and  fables,  and,  in  giving 
to  Jesus  Christ  their  own  image,  have  made  him  an  impostor  and  a  false 
l)ro[)het.  Men  have  been  found  who  declared  him  tobe  aglutton  andawine- 
bibber,  a  companion  and  a  friend  of  thieves,  a  man  worthy  of  the  cross. 

Perhaps  yon  may  think  that  if  God  has  spoken  so  obscurely,  this  ob- 
scurity should  excuse  these  errors.  Behold  God's  vhidication.  It  is 
similar  to  that  which  he  addressed  to  the  Israelites  through  his  ])rophet. 
There  is  in  tlie  Bible  one  doctrine  clear  to  all  Christians,  the  only  one, 
indeed,  whose  clearness  is  absolutely  necessary ;  this  doctrine  Is  that 


212  WILLIAM    MONOD. 

God  sent  his  Son  into  the  world  to  save  it ;  it  is  that  he  redeemed  men 
with  the  price  of  the  blood  of  him  who  is  one  with  himself;  it  is  that  he 
gave  his  word  to  guide  them. 

If  the  Christian  church  is  ignorant  of  many  things,  it  is  ignorant 
neither  of  the  lo^'e  of  God,  nor  of  the  sacrifice  of  his  Son,  nor  of  the 
way  of  salvation.  It  should  have  rejoiced  in  possessing  this  light, 
and  in  practicing,  in  the  silence  of  gratitude  and  adoration,  the  blessed 
teachings  which  it  gives  to  us.  But  the  Christian  church  hae  occupied 
itself  in  reasoning,  when  God  ordered  it  to  be  silent ;  it  has  grown  weary 
of  what  it  should  have  adored,  and  it  has  set  up  its  own  word  and  its 
own  Avisdom  in  the  place  of  the  wisdom  and  the  word  of  God. 

III.  The  third  and  last  point  upon  which  Christians  have  made  a  con- 
troversy with  God,  is  his  law.  By  this  I  mean  the  commandments  ot 
God,  or  the  instructions  which  he  has  given  to  us  concerning  our  conduct. 

There  is  no  obscurity  in  the  teachings  of  the  Scripture  in  regard  to 
our  conduct.  While  it  is  vague  upon  questions  of  worship,  while  it  is 
obscure  upon  many  subjects  of  doctrine,  it  is  precise,  it  is  luminous  upon 
our  conduct.  I  ought  to  make  one  reservation  in  expressing  myself  in 
such  an  absolute  manner.  The  morality  of  the  Scripture  is  not  a  collec- 
tion of  precepts,  but  rather  a  combination  of  principles.  It  speaks  less 
to  us  of  external  acts  than  it  teaches  the  sentiments  which  ought  to  ani- 
mate and  guide  us ;  or  when  it  seems  to  speak  of  acts,  it  is  rather  as  ot' 
examples  destined  to  make  us  comprehend  principles,  than  as  literal  pre- 
cepts. Thus,  Jesus,  in  recommending  his  disciples  to  suffer  themselves 
to  be  smitten  twice,  or  to  permit  themselves  to  be  totally  despoiled, 
wishes  to  express,  by  a  lively  image,  that  the  Christian  should  be  full  ot 
patience  and  resignation,  and  not  to  designate  particular  acts  which 
should  make  us  appear  insensible. 

With  the  reservation  which  I  have  just  made,  I  believe  that  I  may  say 
that  the  morality  of  the  gospel  is  luminous.  What  is  more  clear  than 
the  ten  commandments,  or  than  the  two  commandments  which  embody 
them,  or  than  the  commandments  of  Jesus  Christ,  concerning  injuries, 
purity,  truth,  prayer  and  so  many  other  things  ? 

But  what  is  luminous,  men  have  obscui-ed.  The  only  part  of  revela- 
tion in  which  God  has  endeavored  to  exhibit  his  thoughts  without  am- 
biguity, if  I  may  so  express  myself,  is  the  very  part  which  men  have 
tried  to  conceal  with  clouds,  as  if  the  clearness  of  God  in  law  had  dis- 
pleased them  as  much  as  his  obscurity  in  doctrine.  Plow  they  have  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  this  must  be  explained. 

The  explanation  may  be  given  in  a  single  word :  they  have  established 
two  sets  of  God's  laws,  two  codes  of  Christian  morals;  one  for  theory 
and  the  other  for  practice ;  or,  if  you  please,  one  for  Jesus  Christ,  and 
the  other  for  Christians.  Each  of  these  two  codes  has  its  business,  its 
place,  and,  I  might  say,  its  hours. 


GOD'S    CONTROVERSY    WITH     HIS     PEOPLE.  218 

The  first  of  these  two  codes  is  the  Christian  law  in  its  pnrity ;  it  retains 
the  ten  c'oniniandnients  without  any  alteration ;  it  enjoins  npon  us  to  love 
God  Avith  our  Avhole  heart,  and  our  neighbor  us  ourselves ;  it  exacts  chas- 
tity without  blemish,  perfect  temperance,  incorruptible  justice,  transpa- 
rent truth ;  in  a  word,  it  demands  all  that  God  wishes  and  all  that  Jesus 
Christ  practiced. 

The  second  of  these  codes  of  morals  is  the  Christian  law  arranged  for 
the  accommodation  of  sinners  ;  it  includes  the  ten  commandments,  inter- 
preted in  such  a  manner  as  to  reach  only  the  most  scandalous  sins ;  it 
prescribes  a  certain  degree  of  love  for  God  and  for  one's  neighbor ;  it 
requires  chastity,  temperance,  justice,  truth  ;  in  a  Avord,  it  demands  all 
that  God  demands ;  but  within  certain  limits — each  one  being  a  judge 
for  himself.  Those  who  have  invented  this  code  of  morals,  have  reasoned 
thus :  "  Jesus  Christ  was  far  above  us ;  we  should  not  pretend  to  do 
what  he  has  done.  The  person  who  suffers  for  our  sins,  ought  to  be  per- 
fect ;  but  we  ourselves  have  no  need  to  be  perfect." 

I  have  said  that  each  of  the  two  codes  has  its  business,  its  place,  and, 
I  might  add,  its  hours.  Do  not  imagine  that  the  Christian  code,  in  its 
purity,  may  be  rejected ;  it  is  of  great  use ;  it  is  the  morality  of  the 
temple  ;  every  one  expects  to  hear  it  read  in  public  worship  ;  to  find  it 
in  the  sermon  ;  no  one  is  offended  by  it ;  it  is,  for  many  Christians,  the 
morality  of  the  communion  day.  By  this  laAV  they  judge  themselves, 
condemn  themselves,  recognize  themselves  as  sinners,  and  pray  for  par- 
don. For  a  large  number,  it  serves  as  the  morality  of  their  discourses, 
and  of  their  public  writings-;  it  is  the  morality  which  is  admired,  re- 
spected, adored  ;  it  may  be  called  a  magnificent  picture,  before  Avhich 
almost  all  Christianity  bows. 

The  second  of  these  two  codes  of  morahty — I  mean  the  Christian  law 
— arranged  for  the  accommodation  of  sinners,  does  not  receive  the  same 
homage  ;  but  it  finds  much  to  do,  and  if  honor  consists  in  effects,  it  is 
much  more  honored  than  the  first.  Long,  indeed,  Avould  be  the  cata- 
logue of  the  uses  made  of  it  by  Christians — we  must  limit  ourselves  to 
the  enumeration  of  but  a  few. 

It  is  the  morality  of  the  family  circle.  It. excludes,  or,  at  least,  is  called 
upon  to  exclude  the  grosser  vices,  the  scandalous  habits,  such  as  drunk- 
enness, adultery,  violence  ;  but  it  permits  the  father  of  the  family  to  be 
deficient  in  piety,  cliarity,  and  purity  ;  it  permits  the  mother  of  the  fam- 
ily to  be  quarrelsome,  frivolous,  and  avaricious  ;  it  permits  children  to  be 
v.anting  in  respect  for  their  parents,  to  lie,  to  dispute.  It  is,  for  a  large 
number  of  Christians,  tlie  morality  of  education.  What  they  propose  in 
bringing  up  their  children,  is  not,  above  all  things  else,  to  save  their 
souls  ;  but  to  put  them  in  a  condition  to  earn  money,  to  honor  them- 
selves, and  to  reflect  honor  upon  their  parents.  They  desire,  without 
doubt,  to  give  them  the  name  of  Christians  by  bringing  them  to  the 
baptismal  font,  and  subsequently  to  the  Lord's  Supper;  but  they  do 


214  WILLIAM    MONOD. 

not  design  to  make  a  serious  matter  of  it ;  the  vows  which  they  make  at 
baptism,  to  bring  up  their  child  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  is  not,  for  them, 
a  solemn  engagement ;  they  expect  the  minister  to  teach  and  recommend 
to  him  the  word  of  God  in  the  church,  or  in  the  school-room ;  but  they 
themselves,  recommend  and  teach  it  very  little  ;  the  word  of  God  is, 
with  them,  a  sort  of  catechism,  to  be  put  into  his  memory  and  his 
mouth,  rather  than  a  law  to  be  put  into  his  heart,  and  to  be  exhibited  in 
his  life.  The  basis  of  education,  in  all  famiUes,  almost  without  exception, 
or  entirely  without  exception,  is  not  the  book  of  God,  but  the  books  of 
men.  Often,  alas  !  the  books  of  heathen  ;  heathen  in  fact,  or  heathen  in 
principles. 

The  code,  arranged  for  the  accommodation  of  sinners,  is,  again,  the 
morality  of  business.  I  mean  in  the  speculations  and  relations  of  com- 
merce, in  daily  labor,  in  the  exercise  of  a  profession,  in  the  competition 
of  interest,  of  honors,  of  studies,  where  there  is  little  scruple  about  lying 
and  deceiving  within  certain  limits,  about  injuring  one's  neighbor,  or 
sacrificing  the  religion  and  the  service  of  God.  To  love  one's  neighbor 
as  one's  self,  and  to  love  God  with  the  whole  heart,  are,  with  business  men, 
absurdities  which  can  be  tolerated  only  in  the  church  and  in  the  sermon. 

This  code  is,  moreover,  the  morality  of  governments,  and  of  civil  laws. 
I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Christianity  has  exercised  no  influence  over 
the  governments  and  laws  of  modern  times.  But  does  it  afi:ect  the  mu- 
tual relations  between  different  governments  ?  Do  you  know  a  single 
sovereign,  a  single  legislatoi-,  who  has  laid  down  the  Bible  as  the  true 
foundation  of  the  edifice  of  law?  Do  you  know  a  single  nation  that  has 
taken,  as  the  model  for  its  constitution,  that  which  God  himself  gave  to 
men  ?  I  will  name  to  you  such  a  sovereign,  and  such  a  nation  ;  but  I  must 
seek  them  far  away  beyond  the  seas.  Some  years  ago,  a  queen  of  Otaheite 
invited  her  subjects  to  make  for  themselves  a  code  of  laws.  Interrogated 
by  the  representatives  of  her  people  as  to  the  model  they  ought  to  follow 
in  tli«  performance  of  this  labor,  she  answered  by  sending  them  a  copy 
of  the  New  Testament.  But  such  a  fact  woujd  be  received  as  fiibulous 
in  Europe,  whose  Christian  sovereigns  and  Christian  people  would  never 
be  found  acting  in  such  a  manner.  They  render  homage,  it  is  true,  to 
God  and  to  Christianity ;  they  cause  themselves  to  be  consecrated  in  the 
name  of  God,  and  in  his  temples  ;  but  it  is  only  an  empty  honor  which 
they  accord  to  him,  in  order  to  legitimate  and  to  honor  themselves  ;  it  is 
a  sacred  mantle  with  which  they  cover  their  own  nakedness  ;  they  would 
smile  at  the  idea  of  giving  Moses,  or  Jesus  Christ,  as  model  to  a  consti- 
tutive or  legislative  assembly.  They  admire,  it  is  true,  that  constitution 
and  those  laws  which  God  himself  dictated  to  Israel,  and  which  contain, 
under  huagcs  so  simple,  in  language  so  popular,  the  perfect  type  of  just- 
ice, the  purest  imnciples  of  right ;  they  admit  that  the  peojDle  would  be 
happy,  if  all  legislators  were  animated  by  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  imbued 
with  his  morality  ;  but  when  laws  are  to  be  made,  and  the  government 


GOD'S    CONTROVERSY     WITH     HIS     PEOPLE.  215 

of  nations  is  to  be  regulated,  it  is  not  the  wisdom  of  God  nor  the  mo- 
rality of  Jesus  Christ  that  they  consult ;  it  is  i-ather  the  wisdom  of  misera- 
ble sinners ;  it  is  tlieir  morality,  their  particular  opinions,  and,  very  often, 
their  interests  and  their  passions.  In  this  Avay  most  of  the  laws  and  con- 
stitutions of  Christian  people  are  formed.  Occasions  upon  which  a 
national  council  is  seen  to  adopt  a  measure  because  it  is  commanded  by 
Christianity,  as  Avhcn  the  English  Parliament  abolished  slavery,  are  rare 
exceptions.  It  may  be  said  without  exaggeration,  that  Christian  sover- 
eigns and  Christian  people  have  placed  the  name  of  God  at  the  head  of 
their  codes,  while  in  these  codes  they  have  placed  their  own  la-ws. 

In  short,  to  express  my  thoughts  in  a  few  Avords,  and  to  declare 
j^lainly  a  fact  w^hich  I  find  throughout  all  Christian  society,  the  sinful 
law  of  which  I  have  spoken,  the  second  code  of  morality  invented  by 
Christians,  is,  outside  of  the  temple,  outside  of  worship  and  religious 
books,  the  law  of  the  rich  and  of  the  poor,  of  the  small  and  of  the  great, 
of  the  child,  the  young  man,  and  the  old  man,  of  the  merchant,  of  the 
artizan,  of  the  man  of  letters,  of  the  citizen,  of  the  magistrate,  of  the 
people,  and  of  the  2)a,stor. 

To  Christians,  the  law  of  God  is  an  awful  word,  a  venerated  symbol ; 
and,  like  a  beautiful  2:)ainting,  they  suspend  it  in  tlieir  temples  and  upon 
the  walls  of  their  academies.  But  their  own  law — that  law  into  which 
they  have  changed  the  law  of  God,  in  order  to  accommodate  their  weak- 
nesses, is  the  law  by  w^iich  they  judge  themselves,  and  the  road  in  which 
they  walk.  Has  not  God,  then,  a  right  to  complain  that  we  treat  him 
as  an  enemy?  Has  he  not  reason  to  say  :  "  O,  my  peojile,  what  have  I 
done  unto  thee  ?  and  wherein  have  I  Avearied  thee  ?  testify  against  me  !" 
In  view  of  the  slight  esteem  in  which  we  hold  the  law  of  God,  might  it 
not  be  said,  that  we  have  found,  by  experience,  that  this  law  is  hurtful 
and  dangerous?  Might  it  not  be  said  that  God  is  an  unjust  master, 
whoso  yoke  is  heavy  and  insupportable  ? 

And  what  is  dangerous  and  hurtful  in  this  law?  "Wherein  is  the  yoke 
of  God  heavy  and  insupi^ortable  ?  Would  we  be  able  to  tell?  Would 
we  dare  to  tell?  Ah!  my  brethren,  let  us  in  silence  permit  God  to 
speak  for  us,  and  expose  to  us  out  iniquities,  with  that  love  which  belongs 
to  him  alone.  The  reason  for  which  we  do  not  accept  the  law  of  God 
for  our  law — the  reason  for  which  we  seek  to  obscure  it,  and  to  substi- 
tute for  it  another  law — is,  that  the  object  of  this  law  is  to  make  us  holy  ; 
the  reason  is,  that  this  law  is  the  law  of  a  Saviour  who,  after  having 
ofiered  himself  as  a  sacrifice  for  our  sins,  wishes  to  snatch  us  from  our 
sins.  This  is  what  is  dangerous  in  his  law ;  this  is  what  is  heavy  and  in- 
supportable in  the  yoke  of  Christ. 

O  shame  !  my  brethren  ;  a  merciless  Lycurgus  found  a  people  Avilling 
to  adopt  his  code  of  blood  !  An  impure  Mohammed  found  whole  nations 
that  have  submitted  for  ages  to  his  licentious  laws.  The  false  god, 
Brahma,  found  people  ready  to  burn  the  living  in  honor  of  the  dead! 


21Q  IV'ILLIAM    MONOD. 

The  severe  laws  of  the  Romans  became  the  laws  of  Christian  people! 
But  Jesus  Chiist  has  found  no  people  willing  to  receive  his  law  sincerely ; 
and  those  who  call  themselves  his  people  refuse  to  make  this  law  their 
law  !  And  what  law  ?  The  law  of  him  who,  being  the  King  of  kings,  and 
Sovereign  over  all,  abdicated  his  royalty  in  favor  of  his  sinful  creatures; 
the  law  of  him  who  is  love  ;  the  law  of  him  who  was  willing  to  suffer 
and  die  for  all  men — who  wished  to  relieve  all  their  miseries  by  his  suf- 
ferings, to  bring  them  back  to  God,  and  to  reconcile  them  to  one 
another ;  the  law  written  by  God  himself,  by  God  the  Saviour,  and  which 
is  a  law  of  salvation.  This  is  the  law,  the  only  law,  which  could  not  be 
established  upon  the  earth.  This  is  the  legislator,  the  only  legislator, 
whose  authority  all  men  have  rejected.  The  charity  of  this  legislator  is 
his  crime,  and  the  charity  of  his  law  is  the  reason  for  which  this  law  is 
rejected. 

Obedience  to  this  law  required  the  banishment  from  one's  house  and 
daily  conduct,  of  every  thing  that  is  contrary  to  charity  and  justice — and 
this  could  not  be  endured ;  it  required  that  children  should  be  brought 
up  under  the  influence  of  charity,  by  giving  them  an  example  conformed 
to  that  of  Jesus  Christ — and  this  could  not  be  endured;  it  required  that 
all  business  should  be  regulated  according  to  the  principles  of  rectitude 
and  truth — and  this  could  not  be  endured  ;  it  required  the  banishment, 
from  constitutions  and  codes,  of  every  thing  that  aifected  injuriously  the 
rights,  the  property,  the  repose,  the  happiness  of  mankind — and  this 
could  not  be  endured  ;  in  a  word,  it  required  a  life  of  love  toward  God 
and  toward  man — and  this  could  not  be  endured.  As  human  forms  of 
worship  are  preferred  to  the  worship  established  by  Christ,  as  human 
theology  is  preferred  to  the  theology  of  Christ,  so  the  morality  of  sin- 
ners is  preferred  ^o  the  morality  of  Christ ;  and  although  eighteen 
centuries  have  elapsed  since  God  himself  descended  upon  earth  to  point 
out  to  men  the  way  of  truth,  still  they  and  their  conductors  wander 
about,  gropmg  apparently  in  dai-kness. 

My  brethren,  I  have  argued  the  cause  of  God.  I  have  done  it  impar- 
tially, and  without  taking  any  advantage  at  the  expense  of  truth.  I  have 
pleaded  for  God  alone  against  the  hosts  of  Christians,  *  *  *  What 
do  I  say  ?  No  ;  I  have  pleaded  against  no  one,  I  have  pleaded  yoi<r 
cause  while  I  have  pleaded  that  of  God,  I  have  pleaded  for  you  both 
against  sin,  and  against  your  common  enemy — an  enemy  that  has  caused 
all  your  misfortmie. 

It  is  written  :  "  Righteousness  exulteth  a  nation  ;"  that  is,  God  blesses 
the  people  who  do  his  will.  It  is  also  written  :  "  Hear  ye  the  rod,  and  who 
hath  appointed  it ;"  that  is,  God  invites  the  people  whom  he  has  smitten 
to  inquire  wherefore  they  are  smitten.  Inquire,  then,  my  brethren,  why 
he  smites  all  the  nations  professing  Christianity ;  why  he  troubles  them 
by  fears  of  war,  by  divisions,  by  civil  discords,  by  frightful  combats,  by 
incendiaries,  by  inundations,  by  famines,  by  scourges  of  every  kind,  by 


GOD'S     CONTROVERSY     WITH    HIS    PEOPLE.  217 

unexpected  convulsions  of  nature.  It  is  because  they  have  rebelled 
against  him,  and  have  comi)elled  him  to  chastise  them.  For  the  evil? 
inflicted  upon  Europe,  God  will  call  to  account  both  the  jteople  and 
the  rulers,  the  Catholics,  the  Protestants,  and  the  Greeks.  For  the  evils 
endured  by  our  own  country,  he  accuses  both  the  friends  and  the 
enemies  of  the  government,  both  tlie  magistrates  and  the  people,  both 
the  rich  and  the  poor.  Let  us  therefore  reform  ourselves,  and  encourage 
othei's  by  our  example. 

My  brethren,  how  near  heaven  is  to  men,  and  what  happiness  is  Avithin 
their  reach !  How  easy  it  would  be  to  relieve  the  miseries  of  others  as 
well  as  our  own  !  "The  kingdom  of  heaven,"  in  the  beautiful  words  of 
Christ,  "is  at  hand."  His  gospel  is  oifered  to  us  wuth  all  the  blessings 
which  accompany  it.  But  the  only  remedy  which  can  entirely  remo\'e 
the  miseries  of  men,  is  that  precisely  which  they  will  not  try,  or  Avhich 
they  try  but  partially.  In  seeking  a  cure,  they  weary  themselves,  and 
only  aggravate  their  sufferings.  In  vain  has  civilization  progressed — 
in  vain  does  the  torch  of  science  burn — in  vain  does  industry  display  its 
wonders — in  vain  does  peace  appear  to  protect  commerce  and  agriculture 
— in  vain  does  tyranny  fall,  and  liberty  dawn  upon  the  nations  ;  all  hearts 
groan  and  are  in  anguish,  and  we  weep  as  our  fathers  wept  befoi'e  us. 

Let  us  try  now  the  most  simple,  the  most  pleasant,  the  most  powerful 
of  all  remedies  ;  let  us  try  that  which  God  has  given  to  us,  and  the  suc- 
cess of  which  he  has  guarantied  to  us ;  that  of  making  the  Bible  our 
guide.  For  three  centuries,  Protestants  have  elevated  the  Bible  in  the 
eyes  of  the  peoj^le ;  and,  although  they  may  have  done  it  with  unclean 
hands,  and  often  wdth  hypocritical  hearts,  the  Bible  has  elevated  them 
above  all  people,  for  the  Saviour  loves  to  glorify  his  word.  How  will  it 
be  when  Ave  shall  believe  sincerely  in  the  Bible,  and  live  in  entire  con- 
formity Avith  its  teachings ;  when  it  shall  truly  enter  into  our  hearts, 
into  our  Avorks,  into  our  business,  into  our  laAvs,  into  our  institutions ; 
Avhen  the  leaven,  as  Christ  says,  shall  have  leavened  the  whole  lump ! 
HoAv  Avill  it  be  AA'hen  we  shall  follow  the  Bible,  and  live  in  accordance 
Avuth  the  Bible ;  that  is,  Avhen  we  shall  folloAV  Jesus  Christ,  and  live  in 
obedience  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  like  Jesus  Christ ! 

O  God,  thou  hast  placed  the  torch  of  thy  word  in  our  temples ;  place 
it  in  our  dwellings  ;  place  it  in  our  schools  ;  place  it  in  our  councils,  and 
grant  that  we  may  do  all  thmgs  by  its  light.  Make  us  Christians, 
Christians  for  a  life-time,  and  not  for  a  single  day  ;  Christians  for  all 
places,  and  not  for  thy  temples  only  ;  Christians  in  cA^cry  thing,  and  not 
in  thy  Avorship  only ;  Christians  in  heart,  and  not  in  externals  only  ; 
Christians  in  very  deed,  and  not  in  Avords  alone  ;  Christians  towards 
all ;  Christians  like  Jesus  Christ.  Make  us  truly  Christians,  and  we 
bball  be  saved,  and  our  country  shall  be  saved,  and  the  Avhole  Avorld 
shall  be  saved.     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    XVII. 

J.    J.    AUDEBEZ. 

Like  a  considerable  number  of  the  ministers  in  the  Established  Protestant 
Churches  in  France,  Mr.  Audebez  began  to  preach  before  he  had  met  with  a  real 
change  of  heart.  But  in  1822,  ten  years  after  his  ordination,  he  became  a  new 
man.  A  native  of  the  south  of  France,  for  several  years  he  was  stationed  at  Nerac, 
a  smaU  city -not  very  far  from  Bordeaux.  For  many  years  past  he  has  labored  with 
considerable  success  in  Paris;  preaching  in  two  or  three  Independent  Chapels, 
which  have  been  long  maintained  by  the  contributions  of  liberal  French  Christians. 
He  was  for  some  time  aided  by  Dr.  Grandpierre. 

Mr.  Audebez  has  published  quite  a  number  of  excellent  tracts  and  letters  in  ad- 
vocacy of  evangelical  religion,  and  several  volumes  of  sermons.  The  Eev.  Robert 
Baird,  D.  D.,  in  an  article  pubUshed  in  the  "  Biblical  Repository,"  of  1839,  reviews 
these  sermons  at  some  length,  and  awards  to  their  author  the  character  of  an  ex- 
cellent preacher.  "  We  hardly  know,"  says  he,  "  where  the  reader  could  find  ser- 
mons more  edifying.  They  are  all  good.  Some  of  them  are  remarkably  fine 
specimens  of  a  most  happy  tact  for  exhibiting  in  a  few  words,  and  in  a  most  per- 
spicuous style,  the  real  meaning  of  a  passage  of  the  sacred  Scriptures.  We  had  the 
privilege  of  hearing  most  of  these  discourses  (of  one  volume)  preached.  And  we 
can  never  forget  the  unassuming  and  earnest  manner  of"  the  preacher,  nor  the 
impression  which  many  of  them  made  on  his  auditory."  The  visible  effect,  in  a  par- 
ticular instance,  he  speaks  of  as  being  equal  to  that  of  any  thing  which  he  ever 
heard  in  any  country,  or  in  any  language. 

The  following  is  translated  from  the  volume  entitled.  Sermons  on  "  L Enfant  de 
la  Proph'iUe,  ou  IJAgneau  de  Dieu,  etc^ — The  Child  of  Prophecy,  or  the  Lamb  of 
God.  etc.  Paris,  1837.  It  contains  some  fine  conceptions,  well  expressed,  and  will 
convey  a  pretty  accurate  idea  of  the  author's  general  characteristics  as  a  preacher. 


DEATH  THE  GATE  OF  HEAVEN. 

"  And  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me,  Write,  Blessed  are  the  dead  whicli 
die  in  the-  Lord  from  henceforth :  yea,  .saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  fi-om  their  labors, 
and  their  works  do  follow  thcra." — Hey.,  xiv.  13. 

Very  Dear  Christian  Brethren — Death  being  the  inevitable  wages 
of  sin,  we  must  expect  that,  sooner  or  later,  it  will  approach  us,  to  put  in 


THE     GATE     OF     HEAVEN.  219 

execution  the  decree  wliich  gives  it  power  over  our  bodies — "Dust  thou 
art,  and  unto  dust  shalt  thou  return." 

But  AA'hile  death  claims  from  each  one  of  us  its  tribute,  by  causing  us 
"  to  go  the  way  of  all  the  earth,"  we  are  called  from  time  to  time  to  see 
its  cold  hand  weighing  heavily  upon  our  neighbors,  our  friends,  our  rel- 
atives. And  if  hi  life,  there  are  trials  which  render  necessary  powerful 
consolations,  are  they  not  those  which  result  from  the  i)ain,  affliction, 
and  mourning,  which  are  so  frequently  renewed  around  and  in  the  midst 
of  us  ? 

Yes,  for  our  rebel  nature,  for  flesh  and  blood,  it  is  a  hard  necessity  to 
die !  Perhaps  it  is  a  necessity  no  less  sad  to  see  the  beings  cherished  by 
us,  violently  snatched  from  our  arms  by  death,  to  be  laid  in  the  tomb, 
and  leave  us  forever  deprived  of  the  sweetness  of  their  society  upon  the 
earth. 

The  Apostle  Paul  well  understood  the  bitterness,  even  for  the  heart  of 
Christians,  in  such  separations.  Thus  he  oflfers  to  them  a  balm,  which, 
at  need,  may  be  applied  to  the  wounds  they  leave  behind.  "  But,  my 
brethren,"  he  writes  to  the  Thessalonians,  "  I  would  not  have  you  to  be 
ignorant  of  that  which  concerns  the  dead,  that  you  should  afllict  your- 
selves as  those  who  have  no  hope.  For  if  Ave  believe  that  Jesus  died  and 
rose  again,  we  ought  also  to  believe  that  God  will  bring  again  by  Jesus 
those  who  die  in  him,  that  they  may  be  with  him." 

These  words,  and  the  following,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  may  be 
suitably  appUed  to  soften  the  sorrow  caused  by  the  loss  of  those  Avho  are 
dear  to  us.  The  announcement  of  their  future  resurrection,  the  positive 
assurance  that  they  shall  one  day  be  raised  from  the  tomb,  clothed  '^•ith 
a  body  incorruptible  and  glorious,  the  prospect  of  reunion  with  them, 
never  more  to  be  separated,  in  a  state  of  perfect  happiness,  where  our  re- 
lations with  them  shall  never  more,  by  any  events,  be  interrupted  or 
troubled.  O,  what  charm,  what  sweetness  is  there  in  this  revelation  of 
the  gospel ! 

But  this  source  of  consolation,  whence  Christians,  at  all  times,  may 
abundantly  draw,  is  not  the  only  one  open  to  them.  Our  text  presents 
another  not  less  precious,  and  to  which  we  would  to-day  direct  your  at- 
tention. "Then,"  said  St.  John,  "I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven,  which 
said  to  me  Write,  Blessed  from  henceforth  are  the  dead  Avho  die  in  the 
Lord  !  Yea,  saith  the  Si)irit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labors,  and  their 
'  works  do  follow  them."  Such  is  the  truth  which  we  shall  now  place 
before  you,  surrounded  Avith  the  testimony  rendered  to  it  by  the  Avord 
of  God.  Such  is  the  truth,  under  the  influence  of  Avhich  Ave  desire  to 
place  you,  and  with  you  to  place  ourselves,  that  A\''e  may  be  enabled  con- 
tinually to  rejoice  together  and  bless  the  Lord,  Avhatever  may  be  his 
dispensations  toward  us,  toward  our  families,  and  toward  our  friends. 

Many  children  die  before  they  have  done  either  good  or  evil ;  many 
others  in  Avhora  sin  has  manifested  itself  in    tirious  Avays,  but  who  were 


220  J-    J-    AUDEBEZ. 

not  yet  capable  of  i-endering  an  account  of  their  actions;  again,  many, 
Avho  arriving-  at  tlie  age  of  discernment,  have  beheld,  through  the  aid  of 
pious  parents,  the  infant  Saviour  in  the  manger ;  well,  we  think  that  we 
are  authorized  to  believe,  not  from  any  express  declaration  of  the  Bible, 
but  from  the  entire  Bible — to  believe,  that  to  all  such,  redemption  is 
mercifully  granted  ;  that  washed,  cleansed,  purified  in  the  blood  of  the 
heavenly  Friend  of  children,  they  quit  this  life,  of  which  they  have  only 
seen  the  morning. 

By  "  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord,"  must,  in  the  second  j^lace,  be 
understood  all  those  who,  before  breatliing  the  last  sigh,  behold,  and  by 
faith  unite  themselves  to  Jesus  Christ,  should  it  be  at  the  last  moment 
of  their  earthly  existence !  '  There  is,  without  doubt,  great,  terrible 
danger  to  the  soul  which  delays  conversion,  and  waits  the  last  hour  to 
seize  hold  upon  the  promise  of  eternal  life.  But  it  must  be  recognized 
and  said  that,  nevertheless,  there  is  a  possibility  that  the  most  obdurate, 
the  most  obstinate  of  smners  may  obtain  grace  and  pardon,  at  the  instant 
which  introduces  him  into  eternity,  should  he  turn  a  suppliant  regard  of 
confidence  upon  the  "  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world." 

Beside  the  express  declarations  which  the  gospel  ofters  to  us  in  great 
numbers,  we  find  an  example,  in  the  parable  of  the  workmen,  entering 
at  the  last  hour  into  the  vineyard,  who  each  received  a  penny,  as  did 
their  companions  that  had  preceded  them  in  the  work  ;  also  the  example, 
much  more  significant,  of  the  thief  converted  upon  the  cross — examples 
which  confirm  what  so  often,  and  in  different  ways,  is  told  us  of  the 
infinite  mercy  of  God,  that  only  awaits  the  return  of  the  sinner  to  be 
efficaciously  applied  to  him. 

It  does  not  then  belong  to  us  to  pronounce  upon  the  final  condemna- 
tion of  any  :  nothing  can  be  more  presumptuous.  We  can  not  bound 
the  extent  of  God's  mercy,  nor  the  dealings  of  his  gracious  providence. 
A  celebrated  preacher*  has  said :  "  The  heart  of  an  elect  may  be  hid 
under  the  exterior  of  reprobation  ;"  and  the  religion  of  love  which  we 
profess,  while  it  teaches  us  to  work  out  with  holy  fear  our  own  salvation, 
prescribes  to  us  a  charitable  judgment  respecting  that  of  others. 

Thus,  leaving  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts  and  of  i-eins,  the  secrets  which 
belong  to  him  alone,  we  may  say,  with  much  firmer  assurance,  that  by 
"  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord,"  may  be  understood  those  who,  hav- 
ing given  signs  of  true  conversion,  being  still  in  health,  continue,  on  tiie 
bed  of  pain  to  make  Jesus  Christ  their  only  support,  and  peacefully  sink 
into  the  repose  of  death. 

Finally,  by  "  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord,"  we  may  understand, 
those  who  close -a  life,  manifestly  Christian,  by  a  death  Avhich  renders 
still  more  manifest  their  faith,  their  piety,  tlieir  zeal,  their  chaiity  and 
their  hvely  hope. 

In  return,  "  to  die  in  the  Lord,"  is  to  be  dislodged  from  this  world, 
*  Saurin. 


THE     GATE     OF     HEAVEN.  £21 

reconciled  with  God,  and  freed  from  the  condemnation  of  the  Law,  by  the 
expiatory  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  to  be  hoped — we  love  to  say  it — 
that  many  thus  die,  whose  hearts  have  been  changed  by  the  invisible 
operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  though  this  change  be  unknown  to  surviv- 
ing friends.  But  whether  the  dying  be  known  to  us  as  the  ransomed  by 
(;!hrist,  or  Avhether  we  have  received  from  them  no  testimony  of  their 
heavenly  adoption,  it  suffices  for  their  participation  in  the  benefits  of  the 
covenant,  that  they  be  sealed  by  the  blood  of  the  cross;  we  declare  them 
blessed  from  the  moment  the  soul  quits  its  mortal  tenement. 

This  truth,  my  dear  brethren,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  is  not 
received  and  understood  in  the  same  manner  by  all  the  faithful.  There 
are  those  who,  from  not  having  attentively  considered  it  in  the  light  of 
the  holy  Scriptures,  have  formed  incorrect  ideas  of  it,  substituting  ai: 
opinion  quite  contrary  to  that  taught  us  by  the  voice  of  Heaven, 

This  opinion  is,  that  the  children  of  God,  in  leaving  this  life,  enter  into 
a  state  of  slumber,  where,  in  truth,  they  suffer  no  ills,  but  in  which  they 
do  not  yet  enjoy  the  happiness  of  heaven.  Those  who  hold  this  opinion 
say,  that  it  will  not  be  until  the  morning  of  the  resurrection  when  the 
soul  shall  be  again  united  to  the  body,  and  raised  from  the  dust,  that  it 
will  enter  upon  the  enjoyment  of  the  felicity  destined  for  it. 

We  admit  that  this  idea  may  seem  to  be  authoi'ized  by  certain  familiar 
expressions  of  the  Bible ;  but  when  the  Scriptures  say  of  David,  Sol- 
omon, Rehoboam,  Jehoshaphat,  and  of  most  of  the  kings  of  Judah  and  of 
Israel,  that  each  of  them  "  slept  with  his  fathers ;"  in  the  same  manner 
as  when  the  Apostle  Paul  says,  that  at  the  resurrection,  "  we  shall  not 
all  sleep ;  but  that  those  which  are  alive  shall  not  prevent  them  that  are 
asleep ;"  these  expressions,  "  to  be  asleep,"  "  to  sleep,"  are  not  ajiplied 
to  the  soul,  but  to  the  body.  If  we  examine  closely,  we  shall  find  that 
the  inspired  authors,  in  speaking  of  the  soul  after  its  disunion  with  the 
body,  never  say  "  it  sleeps :"  it  is  only  of  our  physical  nature  that  tliej 
thus  speak. 

To  mahitain  that  in  leaving  this  "  house  of  clay,"  the  soul  falls  into  a 
state  of  slumber,  incapable  of  happiness  or  unhappiness,  without  sensa- 
tion, and  in  a  manner  without  life,  is  an  error  which  is  opposed  both  by 
reason  and  by  Scripture.  It  is,  at  least,  to  be  plunged  into  a  dreadful 
materialism,  which  does  not  know  or  believe  that  the  soul  is  essentially, 
or  of  itself,  thought:  and  is  not  thought  action?  If  then  thought  is  an 
act  incompatible  with  the  body,  and  belongs  exclusively  to  the  soul, 
why  shoidd  the  soul  cease  to  think  because  the  body  has  ceased  to 
move?  And  besides,  to  conceive  of  the  soul  without  thought,  is  a 
thing  as  impossible  as  to  conceive  of  the  body  without  extent,  hence 
the  result  that  the  soul  always  thinks ;  although  its  union  with  the 
body,  and  its  infirmities,  often  prevent  us,  while  this  union  continues, 
from  tracing  it  in  its  incessant  activity  ;  and  if  the  soul  appears  to  be 
drawn  into  the  sleep  so  necessary  for  the  body,  how  often,  even  in  this 


222  J.    J.    AUDEBEZ. 

state,  does  it  not  reveal  itself  in  its  permane  it  activity,  by  dreams  of 
which  memory  so  faithfully  retraces  the  images  !  We  repeat  it,  the 
soul  ever  thinks — it  can  not  cease  to  think  without  ceasing  to  be.  As 
our  immaterial  nature,  and  the  word  of  our  Creator  teach,  that  the 
soul  does  not  cease  to  exist  in  its  separation  from  the  body,  we  may 
boldly  conclude  that  it  does  not  cease  to  think,  consequently  does  not 
slumber,  deprived  of  sentiment  and  of  action.  No,  my  brethren,  no  ; 
and  that  which  true  reason  teaches,  is  admirably  confirmed  by  the  at- 
testations of  our  holy  books,  which  so  strongly  affirm,  that  "  blessed 
from  henceforth  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord !" 

The  first  testimony  Ave  shall  bring  here,  is  offered  by  Jesus  Christ 
himself  in  his  parable  of  Lazarus  and. -the  rich  man.  Do  we  not  there 
see  Abraham  in  the  abode  of  the  blessed,  in  relation  with,  the  celestial 
intelligences,  in  the  full  possession  of  the  promised  inheritance  ?  If  the 
father  of  the  faithful,  as  we  see  coming  from  the  earth  has  arrived  at 
the  "  city  whose  maker  and  builder  is  God,"  may  we  not  conclude  that 
all  the  children  of  his  faith  follow  him  thei-e  ?  Thus  you  doubtless 
have  remarked,  that  the  parable  places  no  interval  between  the  death 
of  the  poor  Lazarus,  and  his  being  carried  by  the  angel  into  the  bosom 
of  Abraham;  neither  is  there  any  interval  between  the  death  of  the 
rich  man  and  his  entrance  into  the  place  of  torment.  "  Remember  that 
thou  hast  had  thy  good  things  in  this  life,  and  Lazarus  evil  things ;  now 
he  is  comforted,  and  thou  art  tormented,"  If  this  example  from  sacred 
history  gives  testimony,  it  certainly  teaches  that  death  has  but  two 
issues — one  leading  directly  to  heaven,  the  other  to  hell ;  and  that  every 
man,  as  soon  as  he  is  disrobed  of  mortality,  shall  reap  according  as  he 
has  sowed,  either  eternal  happiness  or  misery. 

Another  testimony  which  clearly  brings  out  the  truth,  with  which 
we  are  at  present  occupied,  is  that  contained  in  the  words  addressed  to 
the  thief  upon  the  cross.  It  can  not  be  doubted  that  Jesus  Christ 
entered  into  heaven  at  the  moment  in  which  he  breathed  his  last.  This, 
in  sort,  he  himself  affirms,  when  he  says,  "  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  com- 
mend my  spirit."  And  if  it  is  certain  that  at  leaving  the  body,  his  soul 
was  received  into  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  there  is  the  same  certainty 
that  the  converted  thief  enjoyed  the  same  privilege,  since  our  Saviour 
says  to  him  positively,  "  thou  shalt  be  with  me  to-day  in  paradise," 

Moses  and  Elias,  so  long  a  time  withdrawn  from  the  world,  never- 
theless appeared  together  in  glory  upon  the  holy  mountain  with  the 
Lord  Jesus  at  his  transfiguration;  making  themselves  known  to  the 
three  disciples,  witnesses  of  this  event 4  did  they  not  attest  in  a  power- 
ful manner  the  happy  condition  of  the  faithful  immediately  after  this 
life?  and  did  they  not  proclaim  that  the  just,  beyond  the  tomb,  are  in  a 
state  of  watchfulness,  of  activity,  and  of  happiness — Uving  in  intimate 
communion  with  God,  knowing  each  other,  and  reciprocating  their 
thoughts  and  feelings? 


THE     GATE     OF     HEAVEN.  223 

And  that  which  is  said  by  St.  Paii  in  his  epistle  to  the  Philippians, 
that  his  desire  was  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ,  adding,  "  that  to  hinx 
would  be  far  better,"  does  it  not  add  to  the  testimony,  well  confirming 
our  text  ?  Ah,  indeed  it  was  not  to  be  consigned  for  ages  to  the  annihila- 
tion of  a  profound  slumber,  deprived  of  the  sight  of  his  divine  master 
that  the  ajDOstle  desired  to  quit  the  earth  !  but  the  contrary ;  it  was 
rather  to  enjoy  his  presence,  to  see  him,  to  behold  him  face  to  face  !  He 
knew  certainly  that  there  was  but  the  vail  of  our  flesh  which  separates 
us  from  the  beatific  vision  of  God  ;  wherefore  he  sighed  for  his  depart- 
ure, persuaded  that  it  would  be  better  to  die  than  to  live.  It  is  prob- 
able, when  he  thus  spoke,  that  he  had  present  to  his  memory  the 
ravishing  scene  of  the  third  heaven  ;  the  secrets  which  he  had  there 
heard,  and  the  imutterable  joys  he  had  tasted  ;  all  these  things,  of  which 
he  liad  the  certainty  that  death  would  give  him  the  immediate  pos- 
session. 

That  the  entrance  of  the  faithful  into  the  abodes  of  peace  will  take 
place  at  the  moment  they  cease  to  breathe,  we  have  a  fifth  and  very 
precious  proof  in  the  revelation  of  St.  John.  There,  the  Holy  Spirit 
appears  to  raise  a  corner  of  the  curtain  which  conceals  from  us  the  view 
of  the  sanctuary  of  heaven,  in  order  that  we  may  see  the  numbet-,  the 
occupations,  the  felicity  of  the  "just  made  perfect."  There  the  beloved 
apostle  tells  us  he  has  seen  a  multitude,  which  can  not  be  numbered,  of 
all  languages,  tribes,  nations,  and  peoples.  They  were  before  the  throne 
of  the  Lamb,  clothed  in  white  robes,  with  palms  in  their  hands,  and  the 
song  in  which  they  united  their  voices  was — "  Amen,  praise  and  glory, 
and  wisdom  and  thanks  ;  honor,  power,  and  strength  be  to  our  God 
forever  and  ever  !"  And  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  the  members 
of  the  church  militant,  might  know  what  is  the  present  destiny  of  those 
who  die  in  the  faith  of  the  Lord,  it  was  told  St.  John,  by  one  of  the 
elders,  tli^t  "  all  those  Avhom  he  saw  had  come  out  of  great  tribulation, 
that  is,  from  this  valley  of  trial  and  misery;  and  that  they  had  washed 
their  robes  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb."  This  signifies,  that  before  death 
they  had  believed  on  the  name  of  the  only  Son  of  God,  and  had,  througli 
his  sacrifice,  been  purified  from  all  their  sins.  O,  how  important  is 
this  revelation  to  us,  my  brethren  !  What  a  rich  commentary  it  fur- 
nishes us  on  the  words :  "  Write,  Blessed  from  henceforth  are  the  dead 
who  die  in  the  Lord  !" 

To  confirm  this  truth  we  might  add  many  more  Avitnesses  ;  but  does 
not  the  "  yea,"  with  which  it  is  sealed  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  in  itself  com- 
plete the  demonstration  ?  He  who  placed  the  seal  upon  the  proclama- 
tion of  the  immediate  happiness  of  whoever  dies  in  the  Lord,  must  be 
the  Lord  himself,  must  be  the  God  from  whom  emanates  all  truth,  who 
calls  himself  the  "Amen,  the  faithful  and  true  Witness,"* who  through 
all  time  has  shown  to  us  that  "  he  is  not  a  man  that  he  should  lie."  Ah, 
when  the  Holy  Spirit  becomes  guaranty  for  the  doctiiue  upon  vrhich 


224  •''•    •^-    AUDEBEZ. 

we  now  Bicditate,  very  unwise  sliould  we  be  not  to  acquiesce  in  it  with 
all  the  heart ! 

"  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  for  they  rest  from  their  labors,"  their  warfare 
is  ended  ;  they  no  longer  suifer  in  mind  or  in  body  ;  they  have  no  more 
strife  between  the  flesh  and  the  spirit ;  entirely  freed  from  the  law  of 
sin,  they  have  attained  the  end  of  their  calling.  "Admitted  to  the 
mount  of  Zion,  to  the  city  of  the  living  God,  to  the  heavenly  Jerusa- 
lem, to  the  multitudes  of  angels,  to  the  assembly  of  the  first-born,"  they 
taste,  they  drink,  in  large  draughts,  the  pure  jileasures  that  flow  from 
the  right  hand  of  the  Lord  forever  !  "  They  are  happy ;  from  hence- 
forth their  works  do  follow  them."  Their  works  have  not  preceded  them 
to  establish  their  right  of  entrance  to  the  celestial  abode ;  for  this  right 
was  gratuitously  acquired  for  them  by  the  blood  of  Jesus  ;  but  their 
works  follow  them,  to  attest  in  the  great  day  of  account,  the  sincerity  of 
their  faith,  as  well  as  to  designate  the  rank  they  are  to  hold  in  the  king- 
dom of  the  Kedeemer.  They  are  happy  henceforth,  and  though  they  have 
every  reason  to  believe  that  the  resurrection  will  add  greatly  to  their 
happiness  and  to  their  glory,  their  present  condition  is  such,  that  they 
have  no  want,  no  unsatisfied  desire,  no  emotion,  except  that  of  joy, 
which  flows  in  their  hearts  as  a  river  ! 

The  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord,  then,  my  dear  brethren,  are  happy — 
happy  from  the  moment  their  eyelids  close,  never  more  to  open  in  this 
world.  But  should  not  this  truth,  so  positively  taught  in  the  gospel, 
have  some  practical  influence  upon  us  ?  What  a  consohng,  encouraging, 
and  salutary  influence  should  it  exercise  upon  our  hearts  and  conduct ! 

And,  first,  since  these  dear  relatives  and  friends  that  death  has  gath- 
ered, are  henceforth  happy,  have  we  not  reason  to  render  thanks  unto 
God,  and  to  be  joyful  before  him,  rather  than  to  abandon  ourselves,  on 
account  of  a  momentary  separation,  to  excessive  grief,  and,  as  too  fre- 
quently happens,  to  put  no  bounds  to  our  affection  ?  Ah,  if  those  who 
have  gone  before  us  to  the  tomb  were  really  dear  to  us,  what  would  we 
not  have  done  to  restore  their  health,  to  relieve  their  suffering  ?  Well, 
that  which  we  would  have  done  for  them,  the  Lord  in  his  mercy  has 
done  ;  and  done  much  better  than  we  could  have  done  it ;  since,  not  only 
has  he  delivered  them  from  all  the  woes,  from  all  the  dangers  of  life, 
but  he  has  put  them  in  possession  of  all  desirable  good !  What  incon- 
sistency, what  contradiction,  what  ingratitude  on  our  part,  to  give  way 
to  extreme  regret,  to  be  absorbed  in  our  own  grief,  when  those  whom 
we  love  have  received  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times  above  all  that  vf 
would  be  possible  for  us  to  desire  or  to  do  for  them  ? 

But  shall  we  then  say  that  the  truth  in  our  text  prescribes  the  duty  of 
insensibility  to  the  loss  of  the  objects  of  our  fondest  affections  ?  that  is, 
that  all  affliction,  all  complaint,  is  forbidden  when  the  deepest  wounds 
have  been  made  in  our  social  nature  ?  No,  my  dear  brethren,  far  from 
it.     Joseph  was  permitted  to  cast  himself  upon  the  face  of  his  father, 


THE     GATE     OF     nEAVEN.  225* 

rliscolored  by  doatli,  and  batlie  it  with  Lis  tears.  Rachel  was  permitted 
to  weep,  with  loud  lamentations,  because  her  children  were  slain.  And 
David  cried  out  with  weeping,  "  My  son  Absalom !  O  Absalom,  my  son, 
would  God  I  had  died  for  thee  !"  There  is  a  sorrow,  even  groans  and 
mourning,  authorized  by  religion.  And  when  Jesus  Christ  wept  upon 
the  tomb  of  Lazarus,  he  taught  us  that,  without  guilt,  we  might  let  fall 
our  tears  over  the  inanimate  remains  of  a  mother,  a  wife,  a  child,  or 
friend.  Christianity  in  restoring  our  degraded  nature  has  not  destroyed 
it,  and  nowhere  does  it  forbid  man  to  mourn  over  the  wounds  which 
sinful  nature  gives. 

If,  then,  these  be  tears  which  we  are  permitted  to  shed  over  the  bier 
of  those  whom  we  shall  not  again  behold  upon  earth,  let  us  remember 
that  there  are  selfish  tears,  murmuring  tears — tears  of  rebellion  and  un- 
belief, which  we  may  not  shed  without  ofFendhig  God,  Avithout  grieving 
his  Spirit,  without  assimilating  ourselves  to  those  who  have  no  hope  ;  it 
is  against  such  tears  that  the  voice  of  God,  speaking  to  ua  this  day  warns 
us.  Ah!  let  this  divine  declaration  be  ever  present  with  us.  "Happy 
from  henceforth  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord."  May  it  be  ever  pres- 
ent to  repress  our  sighs  and  restrain  our  grief;  present  also,  to  elevate 
our  thoughts  above  the  gloomy  dwelling,  where  repose  the  cold  remains 
of  our  friends ;  jjresent  to  fix  our  hopes  upon  the  abode  of  glory,  where 
the  soul  rests  in  peace  ;  present  to  console,  to  soften  our  sorrow,  to  sub- 
mit our  hearts  to  the  will  of  our  heavenly  Father ;  present,  finally,  to 
enable  us  to  say  with  entire  acquiescence,  as  did  Job  :  "  The  Lord  ga^'c, 
and  the  Lord  hath  taken,  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !" 

While  the  truth  conveyed  to  us  in  our  text  should  be  an  abundant 
source  of  consolation  to  us  in  affliction,  what  motives  does  it  present  for 
unremitting  labor  Avith  the  spiritual  good  of  those  w^ho  are  still  with  us  ! 
As  to  those  AA^hose  destiny  is  already  fulfilled,  Avhatever  may  have  been 
the  circumstances  of  their  death,  judgment  on  our  part  would  be  culpa- 
ble temerity,  even  should  they  have  left  with  us  no  evidence  of  repent- 
ance and  change,  "  God,  Avho  is  Avonderful  in  counsel  and  rich  in  mercy," 
may  have  arrested  them  upon  the  abyss,  revealing  and  applying  to  them 
liis  grace.  This  precious  hope  remains  Avith  us.  But  in  resigning  into 
the  hands  of  the  Lord,  those  whom  he  has  called  aAvay,  there  remain 
Avith  us  those  Avhom  we  have  reason  to  apprehend  are  not  Avalking  in 
the  "  narrow  Avay  that  leads  to  life."  O,  as  to  them,  knowing  that 
"they  must  be  born  again  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,"  knoAA*- 
ing  that  there  is  salvation  in  none  but  Jesus,  that  "  none  come  to  the 
Fatiier  but  through  him,"  knoAving  that  "  death  is  gain  only  to  those  to 
Avhom  Christ  has  given  life,"  that  "  there  is  no  blessing  hencefoitli 
l)ut  to  them  who  die  in  the  Lord,"  respecting  such  as  are  Avithout  Christ, 
Ave  say,  that  there  are  no  means  of  grace  Ave  should  leave  untried,  no 
Cliristian  efforts  Ave  sliould  not  make.  Our  prayers  and  supplications  for 
their  conversion  should  be  continually  addressed  to  the  Lord,  that  it  may 

15 


226  J-    J-    AUDEBEZ. 

he  manifest  to  us  that  they  are  heh-s  of  eternal  life  !  O,  of  what  service 
to  them  Avill  be  our  affection,  if  it  be  earthly  and  carnal  ?  Do  we  not 
know  that  the  ties  of  flesh  and  blood  will  soon  be  severed,  dissolved,  thot 
there  is  none  but  the  perfect  bond,  that  of  faith,  ho^^e,  and  charity,  which 
will  subsist  forever !  It  is  for  heaven,  it  is  for  eternity,  it  is  in  God,  and 
for  God  that  we  should  love  our  fiiends ;  it  is  in  the  holy  covenant  of 
salvation,  that  our  friendship  should  seek  constantly  to  draw  them. 

How  terrible  the  affliction,  should  a  brother,  a  sister,  father,  mother, 
husband,  wife,  a  friend  of  our  youth,  receive  the  stroke  of  death  without 
having  confessed  the  "  only  name  by  which  we  can  be  saved."  How 
should  we  reproach  ourselves  for  our  neglect  in  speaking  to  them  of  the 
"  one  thing  needful,"  to  have  drawn  them  by  our  word  and  example, 
"  to  choose  the  good  part,"  and  to  take  refuge  by  faith  in  the  bosom  of 
Jesus!  What  bitter  regret,  if,  instead  of  having  drawn  them  to  the. 
Saviour,  by  the  sweet  influence  of  our  lively  and  practical  Christianity, 
they  had  been  alienated  by  our  inconsistency  in  religious  pi-ofossion,  by 
defects  in  our  character,  by  our  want  of  humility,  sweetness,  patience,  and 
charity  ;  and  if,  instead  of  being  to  them  the  angels  of  God  announcing 
"  glad  tidings  of  salvation,"  we  had  seconded  the  designs  of  Satan  in 
their  perdition !  These,  these,  ai-e  the  regrets  in  which  it  is  indeed  diffi- 
cult to  find  consolation  !  These  are  the  regrets  that  we  should  take  care 
to  spare  ourselves,  by  neglecting  to  shed  around  the  savor  of  Christ.  Let 
the  voice  of  heaven  awaken  us  to-day  !  May  it  render  us  attentive  to 
the  eternal  iaterests  of  the  objects  of  our  love,  and  cause  us  to  employ 
every  means  to  become  to  them  the  instruments  of  blessedness. 

Finally,  the  truth  contained  in  our  text  should  powerfully  affect  us  all 
my  dear  brethren,  and  dear  hearers  ;  let  it  act  upon  us.  Christians,  by 
prompting  us  to  labor  with  new  ardor  in  the  work  of  our  vocation,  that 
we  may  have  our  reins  girded  and  our  lamps  lighted,  waiting  the  coming 
of  the  bridegroom,  that  we  may  march  with  gi-eater  activity  heavenward, 
and  not  be  taken  with  surprise  at  the  midnight  call. 

My  dear  hearers,  still  -without  the  firm  anchor  of  hope  in  Christ  Jesus, 
let  the  truth  in  our  text  incite  you  to  take  an  account  of  your  past  con- 
duct, and  no  longer  delay  taking  that  decisive  step  which  shall  place  you 
under  the  safeguard  of  the  gospel. 

Ah,  may  God  preserve  us  from  having  laid  a  snare  for  you  in  suggest- 
ing the  possibility  of  obtaining  grace  and  pardon  at  the  last  hour  of  life. 
If  this  thought  has  struck  you,  we  beseech  you  not  to  make  it  a  pillar  of 
security,  remembering  that  we  have  also  said,  that  thei-e  is  great,  fi-ight 
ful  danger  to  all  those  who  wait. until  their  last  moments  for  the  arrange- 
ment of  their  eternal  interests  !  Believe  me,  my  beloved  hearers,  that 
"  now  is  the  accepted  time,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation."  Believe  me, 
you  can  have  no  assurance  of  salvation,  if  you  now  delay  to  seek  the 
conversion  of  your  souls ! 


E\t    %\\\txxtn\\    fitlpit. 


DISCOURSE   XVIII. 

WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS,    D.D. 

In  one  of  the  less  pretentious  church  edifices  in  the  city  of  New  York,  situated 
upon  a  thoroughfare  by  no  means  remarkable  for  its  breadth  or  the  elegance  of  its 
structures,  may  be  seen  assembled,  of  a  Sabbath  morning,  an  audience  not  large  in 
numbers,  but  uniformly  embracing  some  of  the  first  Uterary  talent  of  the  city  and 
State,  and  often  distinguished  characters  from  abroad.  Sitting  in  the  pulpit  is  a 
plain-looking  man,  of  middle  size  and  age — pale,  thin,  contemplative,  intellectual — 
who  constitutes  the  sole  attraction  of  the  place.  The  preliminary  services,  attended 
to,  he  rises  to  dispense  the  sacred  word.  The  text  is  announced  almost  in  a  whis- 
per; the  hands  grasp  the  ends  of  the  cushion  where  lies  the  open  Bible,  or  are 
lifted,  ever  and  anon,  as  the  warmth  increases ;  the  head  is  bowed  toward  the 
neatly- written  manuscript ;  and  thus,  with  a  quiet  ease,  in  a  low  and  feeble  voice, 
the  discourse  goes  forward,  in  one  unbroken  thread  of  golden  thought,  to  its  close. 
The  place  is  the  meeting-house  of  the  Amity-street  Baptist  church ;  and  the  preacher 
the  subject  of  this  sketch. 

Dr.  Williams  was  born  in  New  York  city,  on  the  14th  of  October,  1804,  the  son 
of  the  Rev.  John  Williams,  who  was  for  twenty-seven  years  pastor  of  the  Oliver- 
street  Baptist  church,  until  his  death,  in  May,  1825.  He  was  a  native  of  Wales, 
emigrating  to  this  country  in  1795  ;  and  a  man  of  fervent  piety  and  native  vigor  of 
mind.  Said  the  Rev.  Dr.  Wayland,  referring  to  tliis  eminent  servant  of  Christ,  at 
the  ordination  of  his  son :  "  Many  years  have  elapsed  since  I  waited  upon  the  in- 
structions of  that  venerable  man.  Since  then,  I  have  seen  many  meek,  many  holy, 
many  humble,  many  able,  many  peace-maldng  ministers  of  the  New  Testament ; 
but  I  have  seen  yet  no  one  who  has  reminded  me  of  John  Williams." 

After  the  usual  academic  studies,  young  Mr.  Williams  entered  Columbia  College, 
where  he  graduated,  with  the  highest  honors  of  his  class,  in  1823.  John  L. 
Stephens,  the  distinguished  traveler,  was  a  member  of  the  same  class,  and  held  a 
high  rank  in  scholarship,  though  not  the  highest,  as  was  erroneously  stated,  not  long 
since,  by  a  writer  in  one  of  our  leading  magazines.*  Subsequent  to  this  he  studied 
law,  and  for  a  time  practiced  it.  He  studied  in  the  oflice  of  the  late  Peter  Augus- 
tus Jay,  Esq.,  the  elder  sou  of  the  eminent  John  Jay.  In  the  year  1829  or  1830, 
lie  made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  by  uniting  with  the  Oliver-street  church,  of 
which  the  Rev.  Dr.  Spencer  H.  Cone  was  the  pastor.  The  means  l)lessed  to  this 
i-esnlt  were  a  religious  education  and  sanctified  afQictions.  He  was  ordained  De- 
cember 17th,  1832,  at  the  constitution  of  the  Amity-sireet  church,  of  which  he  ha? 
been  the  only  pastor.     Various  efforts  have  been  made  to  induce  him  to  leave  hi.s 

*  Putnam's  Monthly.     See,  as  proof,  catalogue  for  1823,  and  reports  of  commoiicement 


230  WILLIAM     R.    WILLIAMS. 

beloved  charge,  and  accept  professorships  in  colleges  or  seminaries,  but  he  ha3 
Bteadfastly  refused  ail  proffers  of  every  kind. 

The  leading  characteristics  of  Dr.  Williams,  are,  fervor  and  depth  of  piety ;  a 
liberal  and  cathohc  spirit ;  unaffected  modesty  and  humility  ;  simplicity  and  meek- 
ness, coupled  with  inflexibility  of  principle  ;  studious  and  retiring  habits  ;  profound 
and  extensive  erudition ;  uncommon  powers  of  analysis,  concentration,  and  mental 
abstraction ;  and  the  uniform  and  complete  command  of  his  intellectual  resources, 
and  a  general  harmony  and  consistency  of  character.  He  is  not  much  seen  in  public 
gatherings,  but  no  man's  opinions  have  greater  weight  with  his  denomination.  His 
LIBRARY  is  his  home.  This  is  very  extensive,  and  embraces  a  great  variety  of  works 
in  all  the  principal  languages,  most  of  which  he  reads  with  ease.  The  number  of 
volumes  is  about  nine  thousand.,  many  of  which  are  exceedingly  rare  and  valuable. 

Dr.  WiUiams,  while  yet  practicing  law,  published  in  the  "  American  Baptist  Maga- 
zine" a  biographical  notice  of  his  venerated  father,  which  arrested  the  attention  of 
careful  readers  by  the  purity  and  grace  of  its  style.  Wider  attention  was  subse- 
quently awakened  by  an  occasional  printed  discourse.  A  most  elaborate  address 
on  the  "  Conservative  Principle  in  our  Literature,"  placed  him  distinctively  in  the 
field  of  religious  authorship.  Later  still  he  has  consented  to  the  publication  of  a 
volume  of  "  Miscellanies,"  one  on  "  Eeligious  Progress,"  and  a  series  of  "  Lectures 
on  the  Lord's  Prayer,"  with  various  occasional  sermons  and  addresses;  which, 
taken  together,  have  given  him  an  undisputed  rank  among  the  first  preachers  and 
religious  writers  of  the  age.  We  have  seen  it  stated,  that  a  distinguished  divine  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church,  in  New  York,  on  being  asked  by  an  individual  from  abroad, 
as  to  who  deserved  to  be  placed  foremost  among  the  eminent  ministers  in  that 
city,  repHed,  "  If  piety,  humility,  comprehensive  scholarship,  wide  acquaintanceship 
with  history,  unusual  attainments  in  hterature,  together  with  a  refined  taste  and 
rare  genius  as  a  writer,  constitute  a  great  man,  then  William  R.  WiUiams,  of  the 
Baptist  Church,  is  the  man  for  whom  you  inquire." 

The  writings  of  Dr.  Williams  are  peculiar  for  their  spirituality  and  devotion ; 
affluence  of  illustration,  especially  historical  illustration ;  and  a  vigorous,  racy,  fig- 
urative style,  tinged  with  the  antique,  and  remarkable  for  breadth,  variety,  and 
power.  Some  of  their  marked  features  are  thus  stated  by  an  able  critic : 
"  They  display  everywhere  an  intellect  equally  active  and  vigorous ;  a  mind  that 
makes  its  own  observations,  that  draws  its  own  conclusions,  and  uses  its  large 
stores  of  information,  not  as  substitutes,  but  materials  for  thought.  His  mind  never 
rests  upon  the  surface  of  his  facts,  but  pierces  below  to  the  principle  which  they 
embody ;  and  it  is  in  illustration  of  that  principle  that  they  marshal  themselves  on 
his  page.  But  along  with  a  large  fund  of  knowledge  and  power  of  thinking  of  a 
high  order,  Dr.  Williams's  writings  evince  an  uncommonly  brilliant  and  fervid 
imagination.  This  fuses  and  blends  into  harmony  all  his  powers  and  acquisitions, 
imparts  to  his  pages  ever  fresh  life  and  interest,  and  causes  them  to  teem  with  the 
most  striking  and  beautiful  imagery.  Indeed,  Dr.  Williams  thinks  in  metaphor ; 
his  figures  are  not  after-thoughts  superinduced  upon  his  style  for  illustration  or 
embellishment ;  they  are  wrought  into  the  very  texture  of  his  thought ;  they  are 
the  form,  the  body,  which  it  naturally  and  almost  necessarily  assumes." 

The  discourse  which  is  subjoined  is  now  for  the  first  time  published,  and  will 
enhance  the  author's  already  distinguished  reputation.  It  was  originally  delivered, 
as  one  of  a  course  of  lectures  for  the  American  and  Foreign  Christian  Union,  in  the 
house  of  worship  of  the  Amity-street  church,  on  Sabbath  evening,  4th  March,  1855 


THE    RELATIONS   OF    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY,      231 


THE  RELATIONS  OF  POrERY  AXD  INFIDELITY. 

"For  tlie  uame  of  God  is  blasphemed  amcig  the  Gentiles  through  you,  as  it  is  writ- 
ten."— Rom.,  ii.  24. 

To  whom  held  the  Apostle  Paul  tlis  startling  language  ?  Would  he 
ascribe  thus  Gentile  unbelief,  and  the  coarse,  fierce  impiety  of  the  Pagan 
Avorld — in  part  at  least — to  the  fault  of  his  own  brethi-en  ?  He  says,  in 
efiect,  Through  you  Skepticism  is  provoked  and  hardened  into  a  more  de- 
fiant attitude  ;  and  in  you  Blasphemy  finds  new  missiles,  and  gathers  the 
material  for  more  stinging  reproaches  and  more  envenomed  scoffings 
against  your  God.  To  his  own  people,-the  Jews — the  elected  nation,  as  they 
deemed  thetnselves — does  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  though  himself  a 
Hebrew  of  the  Hebre\\^s,  hold  up  this  stern — this  inspired  impeachment. 
And  could  he  have  forgotten,  or  did  he  dispute  the  fact,  that  theiL- 
Scriptures  had  been  given  them  by  Jehovah  himself ;  that  theirs  were 
the  prophets — men  like  Elijah,  and  Isaiah,  and  Daniel  ;  that  theirs  were 
the  fathers,  David,  and  Moses,  and  Abraham,  the  Friend  of  God  ;  and 
that  theii-s,  as  concerning  the  flesh,  was  that  Messiah  upon  whom  hutg 
the  world's  salvation  ?  Bearers  of  God's  own  oracles,  and  kinsmen  of 
God's  own  Incarnate  Son,  are  they  to  be  charged  as  giving  occasion  of 
scandal  to  the  Gentiles,  when,  by  their  testimony  and  their  Sciiptures, 
many  of  those  very  Gentiles  had  been  proselyted  to  truth  and  heaven  ? 
Had  they  not  won  many  such  trophies  from  Heathenism,  from  the  days 
of  Rahab,  of  Ruth  the  Moabitess,  and  of  ISTaaman  the  Syrian,  down  to 
the  times  of  Cornelius  the  Roman  centurion  ? 

Paul  neither  denied  nor  overlooked  any  of  these  facts.  But,  spite  of 
them  all,  it  remained  an  accusation  fearfully  significant,  and  thoroughly 
true,  that  the  Judaism  of  his  times,  although  based  on  the  memory  of ' 
jiious  forefiathers,  and  although  quoting  the  oracles  of  a  divine  revela- 
tion, and  although  built  upon  an  original  foundation  of  divine  institu- 
tion— though  a  Moses,  by  God's  direction,  ordered  its  rites,  and  though 
a  Solomon,  by  God's  command,  had  reared  its  temple — was  yet  become, 
in  spirit  and  in  practice,  because  of  its  human  accretions  attaching  them- 
selves to  divine  testimonies,  and  because  of  its  unwarranted  perversions 
of  the  primitive  truth  that  it  had  retained,  a  system  of  infectious  error. 
It  not  only  harmed  its  recipients,  but  it  periled  its  rejectors.  The  ad- 
herents of  that  cotemporary  and  accredited  Judaism,  are  here  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  charged  as  guilty  of  shedding  a  malign  and  disastrous  influ- 
ence upon  the  mass  of  Pagan  mind,  which  heard  but  received  not  the 
Hebrew  revelation.  Judaism,  as  they  liad  made  it,  was  in  deadly  ant.ag- 
onism  with  that  gospel  which  Paul  was  commissioned  of  heaven  to  pro- 
clnim.  A  river,  that  had  gathered  soil  from  every  region  which  it  had 
traversed,  its  waters  were  not  only    liscolored   but   poisoned  by  the 


232  WILLIAM     R      WILLIAMS, 

alluvium  which  it  had  collected  and  dissolved.  A  bark,  in  its  first 
launching,  shaped  and  rigged  by  divine  wai-rant,  it  had  become  bored 
by  the  y\  orin,  and  clogged  with  the  barnacles  of  every  sea  that  it  had 
sailed,  and  now  lay  water-logged.  What  they  added  and  what  they 
dropped,  vitiated  what  of  original  truth  they  kept.  From  Chaldean 
astrology,  which  they  had  learned  as  far  back  as  the  days  of  the  great 
Captivity,  from  the  vannted  Greek  philosophy  of  their  later  Gentile  con- 
querors, and  from  the  traditions  and  Sanhedrims  of  their  revered  rab- 
binical fathers,  they  had  gathered  in,  and  attached  upon  the  original 
web  of  Scripture,  a  thick  embroidery,  and  had  set  upon  the  primitive 
tissue  of  God-given  revelation,  motley  and  gorgeous  insertions  of  human 
error,  until  the  robe  no  longer  showed  the  loom  and  pattern  of  heaven . 
But  did  they  repudiate,  as  a  people,  the  doctrine  of  a  coming  Messiah, 
David's  son,  who  was'  to  conquer  and  rule  the  world  ?  Not  they  !  It 
was  their  crowning  hope,  and  their  perpetual  vaunt.  But,  out  of  human 
traditions  they  had  devised  a  Messiah,  carnal  and  unreal,  the  i^hantom 
of  their  OAvn  schools,  in  whose  name  they  refused,  and  they  murdered 
THE  Messiah,  God's  True  and  Only  Sox.  The  Judaism  of  the  syna- 
gogues and  of  the  Sanhedrim,  as  Paul  encountered  it,  was  ever  to  be 
disthiguished  from  the  genuine  Judaism  of  the  Old  Testament  Scrip- 
tures. That  last  was  the  bud  of  the  gospel,  when  as  yet  not  fully  xm- 
filded  ;  was  a  germinant  and  undeveloped  Christianity.  The  first,  as  f\ 
'Jiiiaphas  or  an  Elyraas  would  present  it,  was  a  full-blown  and  developed 
Antichristianism. 

Now,  a  cotemporary  of  the  first  writer,  and  of  the  first  readers  of  our 
text,  might,  in  the  spirit  of  modern  Libei-alism,  have  said,  "What  is  the 
virtual  difiference  between  Paul  and  his  old  masters,  the  Phansees  ? 
They  hold  to  a  Messiah  coming;  he  asserts  and  insists  on  adoring  the 
Messiah  already  come.  Why"  [such  a  speculator  in  the  union  of  dis- 
cordant creeds  might  say]  "  contend  about  this  ?  The  difference  between 
you  is  but  that  of  the  definite  and  the  indejinite  article.  You  hold  to 
the  truth,  vaguely  and  generally,  a  Christ.  He  individualizes  and  em- 
bodies it,  in  a  personage  already  come,  and  dead,  and  risen  again,  and 
throned  on  high — the  Christ.  Quarrel  not,  in  preciseness  and  bigotry, 
about  so  tiny  a  particle  of  speech  as  an  article  ;  made  definite  by  the  one 
party  in  the  Nazarene,  and  by  the  other  party  kept  indefinite,  and  open 
for  some  possible  successor  who  shall  supplant  the  Nazarene." 

Was  the  diff'erence  rea.ly  so  inconsiderable  ?  Let  us,  my  beloved 
hearers,  implore  together  the  influences,  enlightenment,  and  impulses 
of  that  Spirit,  Divine,  and  Infallible,  and  Gracious,  who  alone  shows 
justly  the  truth,  and  implants  deeply  the  love  of  the  truth.  So  helped, 
let  us  inquire,  how  far  Paul's  example  and  language,  in  this  present 
Scripture,  bear  upon  the  religious  questions  of  our  own  time,  and  upon 
the  principles  that  divide  our  churches  from  Rome, 

In  a  train  of  discourses  upon  these  questions,  commenced  already  and 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY.     233 

hereafter  to  be  continued,  by  esteemed  brethren  of  other  evangeHcal 
denommations,  the  speaker  has  been  asked  to  take  part  ;  and  the  theme 
assigned  to  him  is  that  of  the  relations  of  Romanism  to  InfideUty.*  By 
the  latter  term  Ave  mean  to  describe  the  denial  of  the  truth  of  all  revela- 
tion, such  denial  being  made  by  those  to  wliom  the  true  revelation  ha? 
been  proffered.  Our  forefathers  used  the  word  in  a  wider  sense,  to  er?,- 
brace  those  Mohammedans  and  heathens  to  whom  the  gospel  was  not 
formally  preached,  and  called  them  infidels.  Such  is  not  the  modern  ap- 
plication of  the  phrase.  The  Turk  and  the  Pagan  admit  the  possibility  of 
a  revelation,  but  give  credit  to  a  forged  and  false  one.  They  are  misbe- 
lievers, therefore,  rather  than  infidels.  Infidelity  is  the  denial,  under  the 
light  of  the  gospel,  that  there  is  any  real,  or,  if  real,  that  there  is  any 
sufficient  revelation  "in  that  gospel,  or  in  the  Old  Testament,  the  germ 
and  precursor  of  the  gospel.  It  is  an  explicit  protest  against  the  genuine- 
ness of  God's  proffered  communication  in  his  own  word  of  Scripture. 
Our  topic,  too  vast  to  be  adequately  discussed  in  the  bounds  of  one 
lecture,  is  the  tendency  of  Romanism  to  foster  such  infidelity. 

The  Rabbinism  of  Paul's  times,  in  its  effects  on  the  Hebrew  character 
and  destiny,  provoked  in  the  pagan  mind  an  enmity  and  scorn  which 
vented  itself  in  skeptical  taunts  against  the  Name,  Faith,  and  Laws  of  the 
One.  True  God,  who  had  truly  manifested  himself  to  the  Jew.  The  old 
Latin  satirists — who  knew  the  Jews  of  Rome  as  being,  many  of  them,  a 
vagrant,  mendicant,  and  unscrupulous  class,  that  carried  about  the  proud 
capital  their  baskets  crammed  wuth  hay,  and  told  surreptitiously,  for 
paltry  sums,  the  fortunes  of  credulous  applicants — confounded  the  Jews 
of  this  grade,  often  probably  with  those  Chaldean  astrologers  whom  these 
lecreant  Hebrews  imitated.  The  Romans,  because  of  the  practices  and 
condition  of  such  degraded  and  itinerant  soothsayers,  blackened  the 
Sabbaths  and  rites  and  miracles  of  the  True  and  Holy  Jehovah,  wor- 
shiped by  the  wiser  and  more  righteous*  forefathers  of  these  itinerant 
deceivers.  Through  the  fault  of  the  vicious  Jew,  the  real  message  of 
the  holy  patriarchs  and  prophets  Avhose  blood  he  inherited,  and  whose 
pages  he  quoted,  Avas  discredited.  The  circumcision  given  to  Abraham, 
the  Sabbath,  old  as  creation,  and  the  miracles  that  showed  the  world's 
Maker  and  Master,  all  furnished  but  new  food  for  the  profane  jester  of 
the  imperial  metropolis,  when  he  confounded  the  true  faith  with  its  mod- 
ern adulterations,  and  with  these  its  degraded  and  apostate  representa- 
tives. A  Roman  scholar,  \A'ho,  a  few  years  after  Paul's  time,  should  pass 
under  the  Arch  of  Titus,  when  but  freshly  built,  would  little  appreciate 
tlie  divine  authorship  and  the  sacred  meaning  of  the  trumpets,  and  the  • 
table  of  shew-bread,  and  the  seven-branched  candlestick  of  the  Hebrew 
temple,  sculptured  in  relief  on  that  triumphal  arch  ;  and  would  very 
naturally  jeer  at  those  emblems,  if,  but  a  few  squares  beliind,  he  had 
passed  some  crafty  and  unscrupulous  Hebrew,  vending  philters  and  tell- 


234  WILLIAM     R.    WILLIAMS. 

ing  fortunes  with  all  the  grimaces  and  ai'ts  of  the  lowest  imposture. 
Slow  would  he  be — connecting  thus  the  true  Law  with  the  f ilse  votary 
of  the  Law — to  see  in  trumpets,  and  table,  and  candelabrum,  the  em- 
blems which  they  really  were  of  Him  whose  coming  2:)roelaimed  the 
world's  jubilee,  and  who  was  to  be,  to  our  tamishing  and  benighted  race, 
the  Bread  of  Heaven,  and  the  Light  of  the  World.  The  juggleries  of  the 
street  Elymas  would  provoke  blasphemies  against  the  God  of  Sinai  and 
of  Calvary.  Bring  to  such  a  Roman,  fresh  from  such  a  way-side  sight, 
the  wonders  of  Redemption,  and  the  story  of  the  Resurrection  and  the 
Last  Judgment,  and  he  would — remembering  the  ragged,  profligate 
mountebank  whom  he  had  just  passed — ^be  likely  to  exclaim,  in  words 
elsewhere  used  by  one  of  his  poets,  "  Let  the  circumcised  Jew  believe 
that — I  never  will !" 

Does  Romanism  bear,  in  its  spirit  and  features,  no  resemblance  to 
Rabbinism  ?  We  hold  it  the  Rabbinism  of  Christianity,  a  deposit  of  many 
layers  of  secularism  upon  a  lower  stratum  of  original  revelation.  On  the 
basis  of  the  genuine  and  divine,  has  it  not  gathered  large  accumulations 
of  the  spurious  and  the  human  ?  We  would  not  willingly  say  aught  to 
wound  the  feelings  needlessly  of  a  devout  adherent  of  the  Roman  com- 
munion. We  would  not  forget,  nor  can  we  ever  cease  to  revere,  the 
memory  of  men  like  the  Fenelons,  and  the  Arnaulds,  and  the  Nicoles, 
the  St.  Cyrans,  and  the  Sacis  of  her  fellowship.  Nor  would  we  evade 
or  hide  the  fact,  that  Pascal,  the  gifted  and  devout,  wrote  on  the  internal 
evidences  of  the  gospel  as  against  the  skej)tics  of  his  time,  with  a 
breadth  and  force  of  thought,  and  a  simple  splendor  of  language,  that 
have  been  by  no  other  writer  surpassed,  or,  as  we  believe,  even  equaled. 
His  unfinished  work,  left  by  his  untimely  death  a  mere  rude  outline, 
with  but  portions,  here  and  there,  touched  by  the  finishing  hand  of  his 
consummate  skill,  remains,  like  some  gigantic  and  matchless  Toi-so  of 
sculpture,  an  incomplete  fragment.  But  its  deficiencies  no  later  collabo- 
rator can  supply  with  a  symmetry,  a  majesty,  and  a  perfection  that  shall 
equal  what  the  older  master,  interrupted  by  death,  has  bequeathed  to 
the  admiration  and  the  despair  of  those  who  came  after  him.  Our  sub- 
ject requires  not  of  us  to  blink  the  name  and  services  of  such  laborers. 
But  such  individual  excellences  and  achievements  do  not  present  the  full 
tendencies  of  the  ecclesiastical  system.  Many  of  them  wrote  as  under 
the  protest  of  their  own  church,  and  left  their  books  and  their  tombs 
under  her  ban.  Paul  might  look  back  upon  encounters  in  Avhich  his  own 
revered  teacher,  the  Pharisee  Gamaliel,  had  perchance  silenced  some 
flippant  Epicnrean-~a  name  Rabbinical  books  give  to  fi-ee-thinkers.  And 
yet  Paul's  quarrel  with  this  great  system  of  Rabbinism,  to  which  this 
honored  Gamaliel  lent  his  support,  would  not  be  abated  by  any  such 
remembrance  of  his  teacher's  manful  onset  against  the  caviling  skeptic. 
The  rabbi  might  assert  the  resurrection,  the  unity  of  God,  or  the  last 
judgment,  with  glorious  energy  and  overwhelming  success  agninst  the 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY.       235 

unbeliever ;  and  yet  Rabbinism,  as  a  wliole,  might  remain  itself  an  incen- 
tive  to  pagan  unbelief. 

But  we  are  met  by  a  feeling  prevalent  in  jur  times,  and  which  pleads 
the  honored  names  it  assumes,  of  Toleration  and  Liberalism.  It  would 
discredit  all  religious  controversy  as  needless,  irritative,  and  malignant. 
It  would  diminish  the  magnitude,  and  extenuate  the  number  of  the  dif- 
ferences between  the  Church  of  Rome  on  the  one  hand,  and  Evangelical 
Protestantism  on  the  other  hand,  until  it  resolved  the  variancies  into  a 
mere  strife  of  words,  and  these  it  would  describe  as  words  of  spent 
potency,  and  outworn  spells  that  could  no  longer  rouse  or  heal.  We  ask 
such  reasoners  where — on  their  principles  of  omitting  or  surrendering 
all  disputed  truths — the  Reformation  had  been.  Where,  then,  is  to  be 
placed  that  Pentecostal  baptism,  Avhose  anointed  messengers  were  to 
arraign  and  to  beat  down  the  world's  dominant  and  multiform  erroi-s  ? 
Where,  then,  are  we  to  rank  that  Messiah  who  sent  these  messengers 
upon  their  life-long  conflict,  and  shed  down  that  baptism  from  his  own 
mediatorial  throne  upon  their  battling  way  and  upon  their  martyr  end  ? 
The  Liberalism,  which  would  ignore  the  gravity  of  the  questions  be- 
tween our  churches  and  the  Vatican,  might,  as  we  have  already  stated, 
shrink  the  controversy  between  the  Sanhedrim  and  the  Apostolate,  into 
a  mere  question  of  the  definite  or  indefinite  article  in  describing  the 
Messiah.  And,  going  but  a  little  further,  in  the  same  logical  develop- 
ment, it  might  propose  to  bury  all  strife  as  to  the  existence  of  a  Creator, 
or  as  to  the  resprouting  impiety  of  Pantheism,  under  the  simple  sugges- 
tion that  the  whole  vast  controversy  resolved  itself  into  a  proposed 
bflparation  of  the  Creator  and  Creation",  asserted  as  eternally  distinct 
on  the  one  side,  and  aftirmed  to  be  one  and  indistinguishable  on  the 
other  side  ;  that  the  two  words,  Creator  and  Creation",  were  one  in 
each  syllable  but  the  last ;  and  that  it  was  beneath  the  dignity  of  wise 
men  to  litigate  the  difierence  of  two  terms  so  nearly  alike  to  the  lip  and 
to  the  eye.  Shall  we,  on  such  a  plea  for  peace,  hurl  the  faith  of  centu- 
ries, and  the  claims  of  revelation,  and  the  very  being  of  a  personal 
Deity,  into  the  bottomless  morass  of  Pantheism  ?  A  mere  strife  about 
kindred  words,  say  they?  Would  it  not  be,  before  api)lying  such 
methods  of  peace-making  to  the  gravest  themes  of  human  duty  and  of 
eternal  destiny,  but  consistent,  on  the  part  of  the  friends  of  Liberalism, 
that  they  test  first  these  modes  of  pacification  upon  the  less  important 
matters  of  the  exchange  and  the  forum,  the  market-place  and  the  senate  ; 
upon  tlie  pettinesses  of  a  life  which  we  are  soon  to  end,  and  the  interests 
of  an  earth  which  we  must  shortly  quit  ?  If^  as  you  would  persuade  us, 
the  question  of  God's  true  right  over  man,  and  of  man's  hopes  and 
duties  in  approaching  his  God,  be  indeed  susceptible  of  such  half-way 
measures  of  accommodation,  that  solve  and  extinguish  the  dilliculty  ; 
are  not  the  inferior  questions  of  finance  and  statesmanship  still  more  per- 
emptorily to  be  submitted  to  the  same  facile  modes  of  adjustment  ?   And 


236  WILLIAM    E.    WILLIAMS. 

yet,  what  company  of  traders  would  listen  for  one  moment  patiently  to 
the  suggestion,  that  the  controversies  ci"Owding  the  calendars  of  our  law- 
courts  are.  after  all,  but  questions  of  Mine  and  Thine  ;  and  that  two 
words  of  such  kindred  sound,  and  diiFering  but  by  a  letter  more  or  less, 
ought  not  to  part  good  citizens,  or  warrant  costly  litigation  ?  What 
political  party  would,  in  case  the  matter  contested  were  but  a  barren 
rock  ui  the  seas,  or  some  leagues  of  frozen  border-land,  between  our  own 
and  an  adjoining  government,  hear  acquiescently  from  its  orators  the 
suggestion  that  two  monosyllables,  like  Mine  and  Thine,  were  too  brief 
and  too  nearly  alike  to  call  forth  the  resources  of  diplomacy,  the  mar- 
shaling of  legions,  or  the  equipment  of  navies?  And  suj^pose  that,  on 
some  battle-field,  where  the  question,  between  a  proud  and  usurping 
despot,  and  an  aggrieved  and  impeiiled  nation,  is  to  be  decided  by  the 
arbitrament  of  the  sword — where  it  is  to  be  soon  seen  whether  Right 
shall,  by  God's  blessing  and  an  assured  victory,  become  an  established 
Might,  or  whether,  on  the  contrary,  an  arrogant  Might  is  to  jDut  on  the 
spoils  of  a  defeated  and  down-trodden  Right — some  ingenious  pacificator 
sliould  rush  in  to  proclaim  to  the  two  hosts  now  in  array,  that  a  contest 
about  a  single  letter  is  exceedingly  despicable,  and  that  the  nineteenth 
century  denianded  of  men  who  were  liberal,  and  practical,  and  progress- 
ive, to  make  no  objection,  because  that  Might  has  thought  itself  Right, 
for  the  words  are  so  nearly  one.  Would  the  friends  of  freedom  and  of 
justice  be  convinced  by  the  oracle;  blush  at  the  pettiness  of  the  occa- 
sion that  had  summoned  them  to  the  field ;  and  fling  down  bayonet  and 
banner,  reconciled  by  so  simple  a.  solution  to  all  the  encroachments,  and 
tolerant  of  all  the  butcheries  of  a  lawless  and  godless  Might  ? 

And  yet  the  arguments  that,  to  some  minds,  seem  adequate  to  shrivel 
up  into  trivialities,  and  to  banish  from  further  remembrance,  all  the  grave 
controversies  of  religion,  ought,  in  consistency,  to  be  first  accepted  and 
mad.e  authoritative,  in  the  collisions  of  opinion,  far  more  trifling  and  far 
more  transitory,  that  entangle  one  firm  in  trade  with  another  firm,  their 
fellow-traders,  one  jDolitical  party  with  another,  their  opponents,  and  one 
state  or  nation  with  their  neighbors  and  rivals.  Yorktown  decided  no 
question  approaching,  in  gravity  and  importance,  to  that  which  parted 
lAither  from  Leo  the  Tenth,  and  which  severed  Cranmer  and  Latimer, 
the  burned,  from  Gardiner  and  Bonner,  the  burners.  Nor  did  the  sea- 
fights  of  Actium,  or  Lepanto,  or  Trafalgar,  mightily  as  they  told  on  the 
history  of  the  nations,  settle  any  controversy  equivalent,  in  reach  and 
massiveness,  to  the  questions,  What  is  Christ's  nature  ?  What  is  His 
work  for  man,  and  what  His  work  in  man  ?  What  is  His  Church,  and 
where  is  the  way  to  His  Paradise  ?  If  the  soul  be  immortal,  and  its  aj)- 
proaching  judgment  final,  the  question  of  all  questions — the  Great  Ques- 
tion, towering  above  all  the  bickerings  of  traftic,  and  all  the  logomachies 
of  philosophy,  and  all  the  speculations  of  science,  and  all  the  collisions 


THE    RELATIONS    01*    POPERY    AND     INFIDELITY.     237 

of  diplomacy,  is  the  old  and  personal  inquiry — "How  shall  man  be 
JUST  WITH  God  ?" 

Now,  Rabbinisrn  did  not  answer  this  mighty  question,  as  did  the 
apostles  and  their  Lord.  And  Romanism  has  another  and  an  opposite 
solution  fortius  inquiry,  from  that  given  to  it  by  Evangelical  Protestant- 
ism. And  Truth,  in  the  present  and  the  coming  centuries,  as  in  the 
past,  is  to  bear  down  ei-ror.  And  the  God  of  truth,  in  imparting  the 
gift,  bound  on  each  disciple's  conscience  the  trust,  to  guard  and  to  spread 
the  light  received,  defending  with  their  uttermost  strength,  and  diffusing 
to  the  outermost  horizon  of  their  influence,  the  gospel,  as  he  gave  it — a 
gospel  "  WHICH  IS  NOT  ANOTHER,"  but  One,  Unchangeable,  Sufficient, 
and  Eternal.  Because  the  truth,  it  admits  no  substitutes,  and  accepts 
no  counterfeits ;  but  is  exclusive  inasmuch  as  it  is  true,  and  evidences  its 
truth  by  its  exclusiveness  of  warrant  and  of  efficacy.  And  does  our 
Saviour  himself  put  on  as  one  of  his  own  titles,  "the  Truth  ?"  We  may 
not  profler  him  a  divided  allegiance,  or  propose  to  him  the  emendation 
of  his  doctrines,  or  the  abatement  of  his  claims.  If  the  Christ — the 
Truth — the  God  :  then,  as  weighed  against  him,  "  let  every  man  be  a 
liar."  The  rejection  of  him,  is  missing  "  the  Wat"  to  the  skies.  The 
i-efusal  of  him  is  the  forfeiture  of  "the  Life,"  and  that  for  all  eternity. 
As  "the  Way,  the  Truth,  and  the  Life,"  his  gospel  is  one,  nnaltorable, 
and  impatient  of  rivalry.  And  he  who  has  seen,  on  the  death-bed  of  the 
unbelieving  and  ungodly,  the  terrible  work  of  despair  and  remorse,  and 
who  has  watched,  on  the  stage  of  History,  the  fatal  influences  of  Infidelity 
npon  order,  and  freedom,  and  happiness,  and  morals — upon  the  individ- 
ual, the  houseliold,  the  nation,  and  the  race — can  scarce  be  the  true 
friend  of  liis  kind,  or  the  loyal  servant  of  his  God,  if  withholding,  where 
conscience  demands  it,  his  testimony  against  errors  and  systems  that  he 
believes  to  foster  and  exasperate  infidelity. 

These,  our  first  remarks,  have  been  directed  to  show  how  apostolic 
precedent  bore  ujDon  the  importance  of  the  question  before  us. 

Let  us,  next,  observe  in  Romanism : 

n.  Secondly^  certain  principles  and  tendencies  which  work  a  reaction 
toward  Infidelity. 

HI.  Thirdhj^  certain  grounds  occupied  by  it  in  common  v)ith  Infi- 
delity. 

IV.  And  lastly,  the  verdict  of  history  as  to  their  relations^  and  as  to 
the  comparative  services  of  Romanism  and  Protestantism  in  the  contro- 
versies with  skejiticisra. 

II.  Superstition  and  skepticism  may  seem  irreconcilable  antagonists ; 
and  yet  the  very  excesses  of  the  one  provoke  a  recoil  toward  the 
other.  Just  as,  in  the  individual,  a  youth  of  frivolity  is  often  followed  by 
an  old  age  of  marked  bigotry ;  and  the  free-thmkei-  of  twenty,  scoffing 


238  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

at  Bibles  and  Sabbaths,  becomes  a  teller  of  beads  and  a  wearer  of  relics 
at  seventy  ;  so,  in  a  nation  or  in  a  century,  the  believing  too  little  may 
be  repented  of  by  a  readiness  to  believe  every  thing.  And  so  is  the 
reverse  as  natm-al,  whether  for  the  individual  or  the  community.  A 
docile  credulity,  in  chil  Ihood,  may,  on  encountering  the  world,  be 
wrecked  on  utter  skepticism,  A  nation,  schooled  without  the  Scriptures, 
in  passive  superstition,  may  find  itself  soon  and  easily  shifted  into  athe- 
ism, as  grossly  traditional  as  was  its  old  credulity.  In  the  one  case, 
Credulity  has  hoisted  its  banners  on  the  ruins  of  Doubting  Castle,  and 
shows  its  winking  Madonnas  in  shrines  that  were  once  the  dungeons  of 
Giant  Despair,  or  where  his  wife,  the  grim  Lady  Diffidence,  talked  of 
the  sleep  of  the  soul,  and  of  the  great  dim  Perhaps  that  lay  beyond  the 
grave.  So,  on  the  other  hand,  an  appetite  fed  on  saints'  legends,  and 
nurtured  only  on  the  inconsistencies  of  superstition,  may,  quite  as  easily, 
prepare  the  sohtary  thinker,  or  the  masses  of  a  people,  easily  to  disgorge 
the  old  creed,  and  to  swallow,  Avith  equal  voracity,  the  irrehgion  that 
ridicules  all  creeds.  To  adopt  another  image  from  the  dreamer  of  Bed- 
ford :  the  den  of  Giant  Pope,  tunneled  too  far,  may  be  found  to  open  a 
way  out  into  the  poisoned  meadows  of  Infidel  Speculation,  or  breaking 
unexpectedly  into  the  domains  of  old  classical  Heathenism.  The  unwary 
pilgrim  who,  like  Gibbon,  has  entered  as  a  convert  to  be  the  guest  of 
Giant  Pope,  may,  like  the  historian,  find  himself  but  a  lodger  and  a  pris- 
oner, at  the  last,  with  the  old  opponent  of  his  first  host,  the  ethnic  Giant 
Pagan  ;  and  quit  the  faith  of  pontifical  Rome  to  sigh  for  the  vanished 
dreams  of  the  classic  Olympus.  So  was  it  with  Bayle  before  him.  Both 
reared  in  a  nomhial  Protestantism,  that  had  never  reached  the  heart  by  a 
personal,  spiritual  conversion ;  both  early,  by  Jesuit  instructors,  won  to  the 
Roman  communion ;  both  early  forsaking  their  new  home  unsatisfied ;  and 
both,  then  casting  oif  all  Christianity,  the  two  set  themselves,  by  the  same 
weapons  of  a  profuse  erudition  and  an  unscrupulous  mockery,  to  wage 
the  relentless  war  of  a  hopeless  skepticism  against  Christ's  gospel. 
Lodgers  with  the  man  of  the  tiara  at  first,  they  soon  found  their  way 
led  back  into  the  old  haunts  of  the  Gentile  and  the  Epicurean, 

What  are  the  tendencies  in  the  principles  of  Romanism  working 
towai-d  such  a  reaction?  Remember,  then,  the  tendency  of  Avhat  Rome 
has  withdraion  and  witliliolden  from  the  provision  made  of  God  for  the 
race,  The  free  circulation  of  the  Scriptures,  in  the  vernacular  tongue, 
among  her  laity,  she  has  discouraged  where  it  was  in  her  power ;  and 
where  a  powerful  Protestantism  compelled  its  partial  allowance,  she  has 
limited  what  she  could  n  :t  forbid.  The  saintly  Fenelon  himself  wrote 
against  the  general  perusal  of  the  Scriptures.  And  yet  what  else  is  the 
Bible  than  God's  own  covenanted  and  mighty  enginery  for  the  overthrow 
of  error  ?  A  human  author,  of  originality  and  genius,  would  little  relish 
an  officious  commentator,  ever  dilating  on  the  obscurities  and  perilous 
unintelligibleness  of  the  work  he  professed  to  commend  and  to  explain, 


THE    RELi.TIONS    CF    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY.      239 

and  taking  constant  occasion  to  praise  his  own  commentaiies  as  safer 
reading  than  the  original  text.  God's  own  Book  is  his  own  master  con- 
trivance for  reaching  and  for  renewing  the  human  heart,  and  meeting 
with  unmatched  dexterity  all  the  errors,  cravings,  sorrows,' and  crimes 
of  all  lands,  and  tribes,  and  conditions,  from  the  nethermost  barbarism 
to  the  most  toweling  civilization.  Solving  to  the  devout  student  the 
mysterious  enigmas  of  his  own  nature,  the  Bible,  in  its  effects  on  its 
readers,  is  its  own  best  demonstration,  indicating  thus  its  divine  author- 
ship, and  vindicating  its  sovereign  authority.  Like  the  sun  flaming  in 
the  heavens,  which  is  its  own  showman,  the  Bible,  in  the  sell-evidencing 
light  of  its  own  teachings,  ]:)leads  for  itself  and  judges  the  race.  When 
it  is  withdrawn,  or  but  vailed,  and  instead  of  its  direct  light,  the  reflected 
Ught  of  church  tradition,  and  the  moonbeams  of  sacerdotal  authority, 
professedly  derived  from  the  orb,  take  its  place,  the  shades  that  follow 
are  more  friendly  to  Avrong  than  to  right.  A  darkness  ensues,  that  sus- 
picion and  incredulity  may  well  haunt. 

Remember,  again,  the  natural  tendencies  of  what  Rome  has  appended 
to  the  things  which  man  must  credit  as  religious  truth.  To  the  wonders 
of  Scripture  she  has  annexed  legendary  miracles  of  the  most  startling 
kind ;  but  with  what  warrant  are  they  accompanied  ?  We  would  not  go 
back  to  all  the  medieval  fables  that  bestud  the  lives  of  -the  saints. 
We  come  down  to  those  which,  day  by  day,  she  is  afresh  commending 
to  the  regard  of  the  nations.  Annually,  the  blood  of  St.  Januarius  is 
liquified  in  the  city  of  Naples.  Amid  the  most  gorgeous  and  imposing 
c.-rcTUonials,  a  dark,  clotted  mass  is  said  to  become  fluid ;  and,  year  by 
}car,  this  is  propounded  to  the  Catholic  world  as  evidence  of  the  real 
saints] lip  and  continued  superintendence  of  the  deceased  worthy.  Has 
it  scriptural  parallel,  or  has  it  brooked  any  impartial  and  competent  scrut- 
iny'? What  distinguishes  it  from  similar  exhibitions  of  blood,  now 
crusted,  and  now  again  melted,  that  were  habitually  displayed  in 
England  up  to  the  days  of  the  Reformation,  but  which  were  then 
detected  and  exploded  as  shameless  frauds  ? 

Take  another  of  the  modern  wonders  of  the  Roman  chureli,  >*ot 
year  by  year  only,  but  through  every  day  of  every  yeai*,  pilgrims  are 
troojnng,  and  many  from  very  remote  regions,  to  the  city  of  Loretto,  in 
the  Pontifical  States  in  Italy.  Situated  in  the  Mark  of  Ancona,  and 
looking  down  upon  the  iVdriatic  sea,  that  city  claims  as  its  chief  distinc- 
tion, the  Sancta  Casa — the  Holy  House.  It  is  a  small  structure,  of  some 
thirteen  feet  in  height,  and  twelve  in  breadth,  and  twenty-seven  in 
length — formed  of  rude  brick.  It  has  an  image,  old  and  dark,  of  the 
Virgin  and  Cliild.  Look  narrowly  at  this,  for  the  Evangelist  Luke  is 
said  to  have  carved  it.  Does  his  Gospel  lead  you  in  aught  to  suspect 
him  of  having  bestowed  his  time  on  such  a  task  ?  The  house  has  earthen 
jjots  of  rude  terra-cotta — one  covered,  by  the  piety  of  later  times,  with 
golden  plates.     They  were,  you  are  told,  the  kitchen  utensils  of  her 


240  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

whose  motherly  hands  clres'sed  and  fondled  the  infant  Redeemer,  in  this, 
lier  Galilean  cottage. 

Over  that  rude  edifice,  architect  and  sculptor,  in  modern  times,  haA-e 
exhausted  their  skill,  in  rearing  an  outer  encasement  of  richest  marbles, 
exquisitely  carved.  Some  of  Italy's  more  famous  artists  wrought  thus, 
set  to  their  task  by  pontiifs  like  Julius  II.,  and  Leo  X.,  and  Paul  III.,  in 
days  when  the  Roman  see  had  widest  power  and  the  largest  culture. 
For  five  centuries,  streams  of  pilgrimage  have  sought  the  inner  and 
ruder  fane.  It  is  presented  as  the  very  habitation  of  Joseph  and  Mary 
in  Nazareth.  In  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  angels  are  said  to 
have  borne  it  bodily,  through  the  air,  and  by  night,  from  its  old  Galilean 
site,  first  to  Dalmatia,  and  then  across  the  Adriatic  to  this  eastern  shore 
of  Italy.  Set  down  there  at  first  on  one  spot,  its  seraphic  bearers  moved 
it,  at  inter\'als  of  a  few  years,  from  one  site  to  another,  until  at  last  they 
fixed  it  in  its  present  station  at  Loretto.  Gifts  the  most  lavish  and 
gorgeous  have  been  attached  to  these  walls.  Valor,  and  Learning,  and 
Genius,  and  Rank,  have  bowed  in  mute,  trusting  homage,  before  this 
rustic  edifice,  which,  after  four  several,  supernatural  Avaftings,  from  over 
the  neighboring  lands,  and  over  the  broad  Adriatic,  and  over  the  broader 
Mediterranean,  settled  itself,  like  some  roving  butterfly  that  fluttered 
long  before  it  rested,  quietly  at  last  where  it  noAv  is.  It  lost  its  flooring 
by  the  way,  but  has  retained,  miinjured,  its  Avails,  as  they  were  when 
Joseph  came  Avithin  them  for  his  rest  or  his  meals,  and  as  when  Mary's 
lullaby  hushed  her  divine  Infant  to  slumber  upon  her  bosom.  In  ancient 
times  it  was  said  that  the  foundation  left  behind  in  Palestine  tallied,  hi 
material  and  dimensions,  with  the  superstructure  thus  transferred  to 
Italy.  Later  travel  has  caused  the  relinquishment  of  this  older  account. 
The  modern  apologists  claim  only  that  it  was  a  part  of  an  upper  chamber 
—the  Virgin's  OAvn  especial  apartment  in  the  Nazareth  home.  But  that 
learned  and  honest  scholar,  the  old  Benedictine  Dom  Calmet,  repudiates 
the  story  of  the  identity  and  transportation  of  the  building  as  fabulous. 
But  pontifis,  like  Julius  II.,  and  Leo  X.,  and  Innocent  XII.,  accredit  it 
as  the  chamber  where  the  most  glorious  "  Mother  of  God"  dwelt.  It 
Avas  "  the  first  sanctuary  of  God  among  men,"  are  the  words  of  Inno- 
cent XII.  No  less  than  forty-four  sovereign  pontiffs  haA^e  honored  or 
visited  the  shrine — Gregory  XVI.,  predecessor  of  the  reigning  Pope, 
having  done  so  in  1841,  but  fourteen  years  since.*  Scholars,  among  the 
most  eminent  of  Catholics,  have  endorsed  the  narrative — ^^Erasmus  com- 
posing a  mass  in  its  honor,  Justus  Lipsius  sending  it  the  memorial  of  his 
studies,  and  Des  Cartes  invoking  the  help  of  this  Virgin  of  Loretto  in 
his  investigations.  Don  John  of  Austria,  returning  thither  from  the  great 
sea-fight  of  Lcpanto,  dedicated  there  a  part  of  his  spoils,  James  II.  of 
England,  and  his  queen,  are  said  to  have  sent  thither  offerings,  to  sue 
that  through  the  fiivor  of  the  Queen  of  heaven,  their  marriage  might  have 
*  Sermou  preached  in  1855. 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AXD    INFIDELITY.     241 

a  Catholic  heir,  to  intercept  from  the  tlirone  the  Protestaut  heiress,  the 
Princess  of  Orange.  To  its  walls  is  suspended  the  bullet  v.'hich  had  well- 
nigh  killed  the  martial  pontiff,  Julius  II.,  and  which  he  attached  here 
in  token  of  his  gratitude. 

Now,  Avhere  has  Rome  a  miracle  more  solemnly  endorsed  by  names 
the  most  illustrious  and  sacred  ?  Paris,  in  one  of  her  more  recent  and 
most  elegant  and  fashionable  sanctuaries,  has  a  church  dedicated  to  this 
same  Virgin  of  Loretto.  A  French  scholar  wrote,  in  1843,  an  erudite 
work  to  establish  the  story;  and  an  American  bishop  has  issued  a 
similar  volume.  How  many  of  our  scholars  would  reach  any  other  con- 
clusion than  that  of  the  Catholic  Calmet,  as  to  the  truth  of  the  legend  ? 
Yet,  sustained  by  papal  bulls,  and  saintly,  and  heroic,  and  scholarly  offer- 
ings, liow  can  a  Catholic  reject  it,  and  keep  at  the  same  time  his  loyalty 
to  the  Vatican  ?  If  a  church  propound  such  miracles,  is  she  not  responsi- 
ble before  man  and  before  God,  for  the  incredulity  they  j^rovoke  and 
necessitate  ?  If,  by  tagging  together  such  legends  with  the  true  wonders 
of  Christ's  incarnation,  and  passion,  and  resurrection,  she  fling  them  all 
before  the  masses  in  the  one  category  of  a  common  credibility,  or  of  a 
common  mcredibility,  is  there  not  somewhere  a  terrible  responsibility 
for  the  challenge  thus  thrown  out  to  the  sagacious  and  keen-eyed,  to 
receive  this  strange  embroidery,  or  else  to  reject  with  it  the  oiiginal  and 
divine  tissue  of  revelation,  upon  which,  and  into  which,  Rome  has  deftly 
(juilted  this  strangest  appendage  of  new  cloth  ? 

Again,  fi-om  what  Rome  has  suppressed,  and  what  she  has  added,  look 
to  the  reactionary  influences  in  flavor  of  Infidelity,  from  what  she  has 
perverted.  One  grand  stamp  of  revelation,  besides  the  self-evidencing 
power  found  in  the  doctrine,  and  the  book  containing  the  doctrine,  was 
that  to  be  furnished  in  the  holiness  of  the  convert,  the  living  epistle 
whom  the  gospel  made,  the  Spirit,  author  of  the  gospel,  working  with  and 
applying  it.  Pervert  that  holiness  into  something  else  and  something 
worse.  Substitute  for  the  living  letters  of  God's  twice-born  and  regen- 
erate men,  fashioned  unto  holiness,  a  new  theoiy  of  sanctity  in  the  indi- 
vidual, and  in  the  collective  church.  Take,  in  our  own  Burman  missions, 
a  Ko-Thah-Byu,  whose  grim  soul,  in  his  Pagan  days,  had  been  incrusted 
with  the  blood  of  thirty  murders.  The  gospel  makes  him  meek  and 
pure,  harmless  and  kindly.  Is  there  not  the  sign-manual  of  divinity,  in 
this  new-won  holiness  ?  But  make  Christian  saintship  to  consist  of  self- 
torture  :  and  where  is  the  evidence,  then,  to  reason,  of  God's  presence  ? 
In  the  year  1617,  eight  years  after  Ilendrick  Hudson  first  sailed  uj) 
yonder  stream,  now  bearing  his  name,  and  seven  years  before  New  Am- 
sterdam was  founded  on  this  good  island  of  INIanhattan,  there  died,  on 
the  southern  portion  of  our  continent,  at  Lima,  a  devotee  of  great 
austerity,  a  young  maiden  whom  Rome  has  canonized  as  St.  Rose  of 
Lima.  She  sprinkled  gall  over  her  food,  she  scourged  her  body  with 
iron  chains,  till  the  blood  bespattered  the  walls  and  streamed  on  the 

16 


242  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

floor.  She  wore  her  chain  thrice  wound  around  her  person  ;  put  on  an 
inner  garment  of  hnir  studded  with  needle  points,  and  wore  it  for  several 
years ;  made  herself  a  crown  of  pewter  studded  with  sharp  nails,  which 
also  she  wore  through  years  ;  and  exchanged  this  last,  afterwards,  for 
another  diadem  having  ninety-nine  iron  points.  Rome  canonized  her, 
and  she  is  annually  commemorated  on  the  30th  of  August ;  and  the 
Breviary  tells  of  this  crown  and  circling  chain,  and  needled  shirt,  and 
how  also  her  couch  was  formed  of  knotty  logs  with  their  interstices  filled 
up  with  broken  pottery.  Is  this  the  holiness  of  the  New  Testament  ? 
Is  the  bodily  exercise,  which,  in  Paul's  esteem,  profited  but  little,  to  be 
thus  set  up  by  Peter's  successors  as  profiting  every  thing  ?  The  younger 
Fabei-,  an  English  scholar,  a  convert  to  Rome,  publishes  for  English 
readers,  the  life  of  this  misguided  girl,  as  a  high  pattern  of  Christian 
sanctity. 

Take  another  instance.  We  have  already  spoken  of  Loretto.  Among 
those  who  annually  visited  that  shrine,  and  with  a  passionate  devotion, 
was  a  Frenchman,  who  long  dwelt  at  Rome,  Benedict  Labre.  He  died 
m  1783,  about  the  close  of  our  Revolution.  By  Faber,  the  same 
scholar,  he  is  commended  in  a  volume  set  apart  for  his  biography,  in  a 
series  approved  by  Father  J.  H.  Newman  and  Cardinal  Wiseman.  It 
is  claimed  for  Labre,  this  frequent  pilgrim  to  Loretto,  that  never  in  his 
life  did  he  commit  even  a  small  sin.  He  wore  the  same  garment  un- 
changed for  years,  and  among  his  merits  was  his  willingness  to  harbor 
vermin.  These,  as  they  dropped  from  his  robes,  he  replaced  on  his 
naked  skin.  He  was  infested,  as  his  annalist  again  and  again  recoi'ds, 
with  great  numbers  of  such  plagues  ;  and  when  invited  to  rest  in  a 
house,  would,  blushing  modestly,  reply,  "  I  fear  to  leave  some  filthy 
insect.  I  have  many  i;pon  jne."  He  loved  to  eat  the  refuse  of  the  streets 
— the  orange-peel  and  cabbage-stalks,  thrown  out  before  Roman  doors. 
And  such  was  the  general  reverence  felt  for  this  extraordinary  form  of 
sanctity,  that,  after  his  death,  eighty  thousand  portions  of  his  ragged 
clothes  were  distributed  as  relics,  and  requests  for  these  are  said  to  have 
come  from  America.  It  is  said  his  habits  were  cleaned  before  being 
thus  divided.  But  if  these  insect  tormentors  were  part  of  his  sanctifica- 
tion,  why  exterminate  them  from  the  webs  that  had  harbored  them  for 
the  benefit  of  his  soul  ?  His  biographer  claims,  that  by  the  reputation 
of  Labre's  sanctity,  God  "  deigned  to  confound  modern  skcpticsP  Would 
not  such  views  of  holiness,  as  irrational  and  brutal  as  they  were  unscriptu- 
ral,  rather  create  and  fix,  wherever  confounded  with  the  gospel  require- 
ments, an  incurable  skepticism  ?  For,  if  this  be  sanctity,  Christ  and  his 
apostles  gave  no  intimation  of  having  possessed  it.  If  this  be  sanctity 
the  disciple  is  above  his  Master,  the  servant  is  not  as  his  Loi'd,  but  has 
gone  beyond  his  Lord. 

Nor  stands  poor  Labre  alone.  In  the  lives  of  Romish  worthies,  how 
many  were  most  ingenious  and  relentless  self-tormentors.     You  asV, 


1 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY.     243 

Where  has  Paul  preached  such  holiness  ?  Have  these  men  been  study- 
ing a  badly-paged  Bible,  wliere  the  cuttings  and  lacerations  of  Baal's 
priests  on  Mount  Carmel  have,  by  some  mischance,  been  bound  up  as  if 
they  were  the  sequel  of  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost  ?  And  if,  by  essential  perversions  of  the  scriptural  illustra- 
tions as  to  holiness,  Rome  has  brought  in  another  gospel,  is  she  not 
answerable  for  the  indignant  recoil  which  nature  makes  from  such  teach 
ings  unto  stubborn  and  utter  incredulity  ? 

Then  pass  from  the  solitary  Chiistian  to  the  collected  body  of  the 
church.  Christ  made  her  spiritual  and  celestial.  His  kingdom  w\as  not 
of  this  world,  and,  therefore,  it  w^as  not  to  expect  the  world's  sympathy 
and  love.  Rome  has  confounded,  on  the  other  hand,  the  world  and  the 
church.  Her  arms,  rasources,  honors,  and  policy  are  carnal,  and  not 
spiritual.  What  is  the  tendency,  as  to  the  inducing  of  true,  spiritual  faith, 
of  such  jjerversions  in  Christ's  own  policy  for  his  church  ?  As  a  Avorldly 
power,  she  has  had  the  craft  of  a  secular  cabinet.  A  Machiavelli,  pro- 
verbial for  courtly  treachery,  studied  in  pontifical  Borgias  his  models  of 
ruthless  duplicity.  Rome  has  had,  too,  the  armies,  and  wars,  and  pris- 
ons, and  racks  of  a  secular  monarchy.  She  has,  by  her  paramount 
claims,  often  sought  to  override  all  secular  government ;  and  laid  on  a 
land  her  interdict,  leaving  it  without  baptism,  betrothal,  or  burial.  She 
has  had  her  Inquisitions.  On  the  annals  of  her  dread  influence,  stand  the 
crimson  memorials  of  the  French  St.  Bartholomew's  Massacre,  and  of 
the  slaughtei-s  of  the  Irish  Rebellion  ;  and  of  the  butcheries  in  the  Nether- 
lands of  the  relentless  Alva,  and  in  Spain  of  the  fiei'ce  Torquemada. 
Against  the  meek  Waldenses  she  unleashed  her  most  truculent  emissa- 
ries of  rapine  and  butchery.  France  yielded  to  her  Avishes  the  Revoca- 
tion of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  the  bloody  Dragonades.  England  ow^ed 
to  her  the  portentous  though  the  baffled  onset  of  the  Spanish  Armada, 
and  the  plot,  foiled  though  it  was,  which  would  have  blow^n  hito  the  air 
her  Parliament,  and  the  scheme  that,  also,  however,  was  happily  frus- 
trated, which  would  for  the  interest  of  the  last  Stuarts,  have  fain  sub- 
verted her  constitution,  and  brought  in  absolute  power.  And  did  He, 
the  Man  of  Sorrows,  who,  in  Gethsemane  had  bidden  Peter  sheath  his 
sword,  when  it  but  sheared  off  an  ear,  look  down  approvinglv,  think 
you,  from  his  heavenly  throne  xipon  the  men  who,  on  our  earth,  claiming 
to  be  Peter's  successors  and  Christ's  own  Vicegerents,  have  set  out,  as 
(Christ's  church,  a  power,  thus  secular  and  ferocious,  all  bristling  with 
the  spoils,  and  horrid  with  the  gore  of  her  victims  ?  And  is  this  the 
Bride  of  the  Apocalyptic  Vision,  the  Lamb's  Wife  making  herself  ready 
for  the  marriage-suppej",  the  One  Catholic  Church  out  of  which  there  is 
no  salvation  ?  I  read  in  the  same  book  of  another  personage  than  the 
bride,  who  has  power,  and  kingly  patrons,  and  worldly  splendors,  and 
she  is  drunk  wdth  the  blood  of  the  saints.  I  muse  on  the  two  portrait- 
ures of  the  Apocalypse,  and,  turning  to  the  city  of  the  Seven  Hills,  tha 


244  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

queenly  mistress  of  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  I  ask  as  I  ponder  the  pages 
of  John's  vision,  "  Which  is  her  likeness  ?" 

If  Jesus  devised  a  holy  church,  meek  and  much-enduring,  harmless 
and  lovely,  with  the  Holy  Ghost  as  her  light,  and  her  might,  and  her 
indwelling  life,  to  become,  next  after  Scripture,  the  great  engine  of  that 
Holy  Spirit  in  disseminating  truth  and  diffusing  holiness,  it  was  a  wrong 
to  the  meek  sufferer  of  Pilate's  judgment-hall,  and  the  miite  victim  of 
Herod's  barbarous  mockery,  to  substitute  instead  of  his  original  device 
of  a  church,  scriptural,  spiritual,  and  unworldly,  a  body  so  thoroughly 
secularized,  and  an  ecclesiastical  despotism  that  wreaked  on  the  nations 
enormities  which  Pilate  could  scarce  have  attempted,  and  which  might 
have  sated  the  rage  of  the  worst  of  the  Herods.  It  was  a  wrong,  not 
merely  to  the  Head  of  the  church,  whose  work  was  so  marred — it  was 
equally  a  cruel  wrong  to  the  world,  who,  if  this  were  deemed  by  them 
Christ's  mystical  body,  might  well  shrink  back  to  Thor,  to  Jove,  and  to 
Moloch,  the  gods  of  Pagan  antiquity,  and  ask.  Were  our  forefathers' 
idols  more  cruel  and  more  thirsty  for  blood  ? 

Add  her  contradictions,  and  her  variations,  and  her  immoralities. 
Add  her  coalitions  Avith  the  cause  of  political  despotism.  See  what  her 
Canon  law  has  done  for  freedom,  her  Index  for  the  press  and  the  library, 
her  Casuistry  for  morals,  and  her  Confessional  for  the  family.  You  read 
on  Pascal's  page  the  trenchant  exposure  of  Jesuit  perversions.  You 
suppose  these  last  now  exploded,  even  at  Rome.  You  turn  to  Liguori's 
Moral  Theology,  and  find  them  largely  retained  there.  You  remember 
that  in  our  own  time,  Liguori  has  been  solemnly  canonized ;  and  cer- 
tainly, the  Vatican  would  not  lift  into  her  Pantheon  of  saintship  one 
who  wrote  what  she  deemed  bad  books.  If,  what  Pascal  denounced, 
but  Liguori  retained,  have  been  grafted  authoritatively  upon  the  Sermon 
on  the  Mount,  where  is  the  unity,  and  where  the  purity  of  Christian 
morality  ? 

Then,  reviewing  God's  scheme  for  indoctrinating  and  regenerating  the 
race,  collate  with  his  scheme  what  Rome  has  retrenched,  what  Rome  has 
appended,  and  what  Rome  has  perverted.  Does  it  not  seem  manifest 
that  conscience,  if  shut  up  to  receive  this  as  the  only  Christianity,  must 
of  necessity  and  of  right  recoil  into  the  denial  of  a  revelation,  if  such  be 
its  utterances,  its  miracles,  its  evidences,  and  its  fruits  ? 

III.  We  spoke  of  the  fruits,  again,  of  real,  if  not  apparent,  unison 
between  the  two  systems  of  Rome  and  Infidelity ;  the  common  ground, 
where  superstition  and  skepticism  met  and  fraternized.  Polities  and 
theories  that  are  bitterly  hostile  to  each  other,  may  yet,  in  a  more  vivid 
bitterness  of  hostility  to  some  third  system,  the  common  enemy  of  both, 
coalesce,  as  did  Herod  and  Pilate — the  one  in  the  Jewish,  and  the  other 
in  the  Pagan  interest — disguising  their  mutual  and  unalterable  dislike,  in 
plighting  their  hands  over  the  victim  Redeemer. 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY.    245 

In  their  estimate  of  human  authority,  in  their  appreciation  of  Scrip- 
ture, in  their  disproportionate  and  exaggerated  regard  for  this  present 
world,  and  in  their  distrust  alike  of  the  Divine  Sacrifice,  the  Redeemhig 
Son,  and  of  the  Divine  Sanctitier,  the  Regenerating  Sjtirit  of  God,  it  is 
Avondrous  to  see,  how,  under  various  watchwords,  the  hosts  of  Tradition 
and  those  of  Unbelief  cherish  a  common  feeling,  and  are  in  many  things 
really,  though  not  ostensibly,  one.  Skepticism,  whether  avowed  as  in 
Deism,  or  disguised  in  a  nominal  Protestantism,  under  the  name  of  Ra- 
tionalism, trusts  much  in  the  authority  of  man  tlie  individual ,'  Romanism 
lays  equal  stress  on  human  authority,  but  in  the  shape  of  the  collective  man^ 
and  in  the  canonized  man., — in  the  fathers,  and  councils,  and  decretals. 
Does  Rome  reproduce  the  old  Rabbinic  spirit,  that  set  the  oral  tradition 
above  the  written  record,  and  pronounce  the  Scriptures  an  insufficient 
guide,  without  the  church  to  interpret  and  dictate  the  comment  ?  Infi- 
delity, M-hether  Deistic  or  Rationalistic,  agrees  heartily  to  the  impeach- 
ment of  Scripture  ;  jironouncing  it — if  of  authority  at  all — as  being  a 
guide,  only  when  judged,  sustained,  and  supplemented  by  human  reason 
dictating  or  expunging  the  text.  Does  Superstition  say,  "  Give  us  this 
world's  power,  wealth,  and  adornments — without  them  religion  can  not 
live  ?"  So  Skepticism  exclaims,  in  no  hostile  spirit,  "  For'worlds  beyond, 
we  have  little  care.  For  this  present  Ufe,  secure  us ;  and  we  leave  the 
rest."  Does  Rationalism  say,  "  We  need  not  the  Son  of  God,  as  our 
atonement.  If  saved,  it  must  be  by  our  own  merit  ?"  Rome,  in  tones 
varying,  but  not  adverse,  rings  out  her  answering  chime,  "We  need, 
beside  Christ  the  mediator,  other  mediators  and  more  gentle ;  and  the 
supererogatory  works  of  our  saints  and  ourselves,"  From  the  severity  of 
Christ  as  the  judge,  they  turn  to  the  kindliness  of  his  mother,  the  hope 
and  refuge  of  sinners.  Does  Infidelity  exclaim  impiously,  "  AVhere  is 
the  Spirit,  in\dsible  and  divine,  on  which  you  rely  ?  Show  us  its  form, 
and  let  our  five  fingers  measure  its  dimensions  ?"  Rome,  in  its  turn, 
looks  from  the  Spirit  to  the  ritual,  and  the  sacerdocy — the  external  signs 
and  channels.  If  Carnal  Reason  lifts  the  shout,  "  By  human  power,  and 
by  material,  tangible  objects  do  we  expect  to  succeed  m  any  designs  of 
ours,"  so  does  Ecclesiastical  Polity  exclaim,  "  By  rites  tangible  and  im- 
posing, by  the  gorgeous  spectacle,  and  the  splendid  ritual,  and  the  na- 
tional endowment,  and  the  secular  arm,  must  religion  spread,  if  at  all." 
But,  over  these  two  testimonies,  diverse  in  wordmg,  but  harmonious  in 
temper  and  sentiment,  the  book  of  God  raises  on  high  its  own  stern  re- 
buke ;  "  Not  by  might  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spipar,  saitii  the  Lord 
OF  Hosts."  And  with  that  sentence,  the  defiance  of  either  camp,  de- 
nouncing a  carnal  skepticism  on  the  I'ight  hand,  and  denouncing  a  carnal 
superstition  on  the  left,  \yith  that  brief  memorial  inscribed  on  the  banner 
which  they  set  up  and  fling  out,  the  true  and  spiritual  Israel  of  God 
commence  the  conflict.  It  brings  down  upon  theni  the  combined  hos- 
tility, derision,  and  hate,  of  either  peopled  encampment.    But  the  sparse 


245  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

phalanx,  thus  the  common  object  of  assault  to  TJubelief  and  to  Supei-stp 
tion,  is  like  the  immortal  legion  of  the  old  histories.  The  forces  of  a 
spiritual,  evangelical  Protestantism,  must  abide  thus  a  double  encounter. 
Infidelity  knows  by  bitter  experience,  that  these  humble,  spiritual,  pray- 
ing men  have  best  rolled  back  her  broadest  streams  of  invasion.  And 
Popery  knows  as  well,  that  from  this  same  class  her  territories  have 
most  to  fear,  and  her  polities  and  her  tactics  have  least  to  hope. 

IV.  And  thus  we  pass,  naturally,  to  our  closing  topic,  the  testimony  of 
History  as  to  the  relations  between  Rome  and  Skepticism,  and  the  rela- 
tive achievements  of  Knmauism  and  Protestantism  in  repelling  the 
assaults  of  the  infidel. 

Many  Papal  writers  would  ti.^co  all  Infidelity  to  its  origin  in  the 
Reformation.  Balmes  makes  it  begin  wltn  Bayle.  He  forgets  that  Pascal, 
a  Catholic  and  a  higher  authority,  fine's  iv,  before  Bayle's  time,  in  Mon- 
taigne. It  was  in  Rabelais,  a  Romish  eccl3siastic.  On  the  other  hand, 
some  Protestant  writers  as  unfoirly  would  derive  all  modern  Skepticism 
from  France,  the  Catholic.  Neither  of  these  genei^Jogies  for  Skepticism 
is  true  t(?  the  statements  of  History  or  the  copcluslongi  of  Scripture. 
Rome  should  remember,  that,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  before  the  Reforma- 
tion by  Luther  had  dawned,  one  of  her  own  Pontiflfs  charged  a  Gorman 
Emperor  with  having  classed  Christ  and  Mohammed  together,  as  coA  im- 
postors— -that,  again,  one  of  the  mediaeval  kings  of  Spain,  boasteJ,  meet 
skeptically,  that  had  the  Creator  consulted  him  he  could  have  mended 
the  arrangement  of  the  skies — that  Simon  de  Tournay,  one  of  the  lights  oi 
the  University  of  Paris,  vaunted,  how,  as  by  argument  he  had  established 
Christianity,  he  could  by  argument  also  overthrow  and  dethrone  "  the 
little  Jesus,'*  as  blasphemously  he  styled  the  Redeemer — how  the  Knight 
Templars,  in  intercourse  with  the  Saracens,  were  thought  to  have  learned 
Skepticism ;  and  a  mutilated  Gospel  of  St.  John,  which  they  used,  yet 
remains  to  show  their  departure  from  the  established  Christianit}-. 
They  forget  that  Lucian  the  Epicurean,  born  but  some  thirty  years  after 
John,  the  last  apostle,  died,  was  to  all  intents  an  infidel — the  Voltaire  of 
his  century.  They  forget  that,  as  early  as  the  Psalmist's  times,  the  fool 
had  said  in  his  heart,  "  There  is  no  God  ;" — that,  yet  for  in  adv.ance  of 
that  age,  Cain's  sacrifice  was  Rationalistic  ;  and  that  Eve's  creed,  under 
Satan's  promj^tings,  was  infidel,  for  it  impeached  the  verity  of  the 
Divine  utterances.  Unbelief  is,  then,  but  the  old,  chronic  malady  of  the 
Fall :  and  Infidelity  is  but  a  certain  aggravated  stage  of  Unbelief,  It  is 
Unbelief  attacking  the  sufficiency  or  even  possibility  of  a  revelation. 

In  mediaeval  times,  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle,  known  through  Latin 
translators,  had  formed  a  school  of  thinkers,  who  held  that  what  was  true 
in  philosoi)hy  might  be  false  in  theology.  Frankly  stated,  tliis  was,  in 
many  of  the  holders,  but  a  cautious  form  of  infidelity.  The  revival  of 
Greek  leaniing  and  of  the  Platonic  philosophy  formed  in  Italy  another 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AND     INFIDELITY.     247 

school  of  tliiukers,  who  were,  some  at  least,  full  skeptics.  Luther  found 
such  at  Rome  among  the  priests.  Some  of  these  Heehig  afterward  into 
Protestant  lands,  as  more  tolerant  of  divergent  ojunions,  aided,  we  think, 
in  giving  a  rationalistic  bias  to  tlie  reform  in  Poland  and  Hungary.  In 
England,  at  a  later  day,  the  freer  interchange  of  opinion  allowed  o\)en 
vent  to  the  skepticism,  Avhich  in  Catholic  countries  though  more  mute 
Avas  certainly  not  less  active.  Lord  Herbert,  then  Hobbes,  and  still  later, 
Tindal  and  Collins,  and  yet  aftei-  them.  Lord  Bolingbroke  gave  utter- 
ance in  Britain  to  skeptical  views.  It  was  from  England,  visited  by  Vol- 
taire, wlio  there  had  the  acquaintance  of  Bolingbroke,  that  the  great 
Theomachists  of  the  French  nation  borrowed  largely  the  arms  which  they 
wielded.  But  yet  Bayle,  and  Montaigne,  and  Rabelais,  the  national  pre- 
decessors of  these  French  infidels,  were  not  English.  And  whilst  much  of 
French  skepticism  was  imported  across  the  Channel,  as  traditional,  very 
much  was  indigenous  to  the  soil.  It  was  in  a  country,  which  Papal  per- 
secutions had  weeded  of  all  Protestant  defenders  of  the  Gospel,  Avhere 
neither  pulpit  nor  school  felt  longer  the  healthful  emulation  ministered 
to  an  earlier  generation  of  Romanists  by  the  Protestantism  in  that  day 
tolerated — it  was  in  a  country  that  had  harried  and  worried  the  more 
spiritual  and  the  more  scriptural  portion  of  their  own  Catholic  brethren, 
the  JansenistSj  that  Skepticism  began  to  sow  and  to  reaip  its  largest  har- 
vest. If  Romanism  were  Christianity,  it  was  an  age  in  French  history 
most  Christian,  because  most  intensely  and  most  exclusively  Catholic ; 
when  Romanism  pure,  Romanism  the  extruder  of  Protestantism,  and 
Romanism  the  persecutor  of  Jansenism,  had  become  dominant,  and 
reigned  unrivaled.  But,  then,  as  never  before  and  never  since.  Skepti- 
cism struck  deep  its  roots,  and  spread  widely  its  branches.  The  king, 
Louis  XV.,  is  a  bigoted  Romanist,  Dubois  is  not  Huguenot  or  Jansenist; 
and  he  is  the  Premier  of  France,  and  a  Cai-dinal  of  Rome.  And  then 
Atheism  grows  luxuriantly.  "  Was  it  for  this,"  France  might  have  said 
to  the  Vatican,  "  that  I  gave  my  Huguenots  by  myriads  to  the  dragonade 
and  the  galleys  at  home,  or  to  exile  abroad  ?  Was  it  for  this,  that  I  tore 
out  my  own  entrails,  to  fatten,  with  my  own  loss,  England  and  Ger- 
many, and  Holland  and  transatlantic  America?  Was  it  for  this,  that  I 
saw  my  St.  Cyrans,  and  Arnaulds,  and  Quesnels,  denounced,  incarcerated, 
or  expatriated — the  glory  of  Jansenist  intellect,  and  of  Jansenist  piety? 
Was  it  all,  but  for  this,  that  thou  mightcst  give  me  a  Dubois  for  a  Prelate 
and  Cardinal ;  and  lift  my  Voltaire  to  become  the  very  Patriarch  of 
impiety  ?"  And  soon,  over  throne  and  altar,  over  baronial  mansions  and 
lowly  thresholds,  went  rolling  in  blood,  the  avenging  torrents  of  an  exas- 
perated Atheism, 

Infidelity  had,  from  the  influence  of  French  literature  and  genius, 
spread  to  some  extent  into  Protestant  Germany,  and  into  Protestant 
England.  In  the  first  country,  it  had  a  royal  patron  in  Frederic  the 
Great.     In  the  last,  it  had  its  native  advocates  in  Hume,  Gibbon,  and 


248  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

Paine.  It  is,  ^ve  believe,  now  generally  acknowledged,  that  the  two 
later  Stuarts,  of  England,  had  been  in  the  pay  of  France  while  on  the 
British  tlirone,  and  hoped  to  overturn,  in  their  own  land,  its  free  consti- 
tution and  its  Protestant  faith.  Now,  had  they  but  in  their  earlier  ago 
succeeded,  and  a  dominant  Roraanisni  been  continued  by  the  Stuarts  of 
England  in  conjunction  with  the  Bourbons  ofFrance,  what  must  have  been 
the  result  in  Biitaiu  at  the  era  of  French  impiety  ?  We  see  no  reason 
for  doLibting  that  had  England  then  been  Catholic,  as  the  Stuarts  had 
long  before  hoped  to  make  it,  the  infidelity  and  anarchy  on  the  one  side 
of  the  Channel  would  have  swept  the  other  side  also.  Had  England  been 
infected  when  France  was  thus  scourged,  to  become  in  tui-n  the  scourge 
of  the  Continent,  what  would  have  been  the  loss  to  civilization  and  to 
the  race.!  But  Protestantism  was  the  breakwater  that  turned  the  rising 
inundation — an  Evangelical  Protestantism,  such  as  the  Puritans  and  Non- 
conformists, and  such  as,  after  them.  Watts,  and  Wesley,  and  Whitefield, 
and  Wilberforce,  within  and  without  the  Established  Church,  had  labored 
and  were  laboring  to  cherish  and  to  dift'use.  This  stood  the  onset  and 
rolled  back  the  submerging  tides  of  Revolution,  Anarchy,  and  Atheism. 
Now  if  Protestantism  be  the  especial  parent  and  persistent  ally  of  In- 
fidelity, how  is  it,  that,  in  England  especially  and  traditionally  Protestant, 
she  did  not  reap  the  whirlwind  harvest,  which,  according  to  her  Romish 
accusers,  she  had  especially  sown  ;  but  of  which  France,  so  boastfully  and 
fiercely  Catholic,  was  in  fact  the  great  reaj^er  for  all  Europe  ?  Whereas 
England  it  in  fact  Avas,  which,  having  in  an  earlier  age  welcomed  Huguenot 
refugees  from  the  rage  of  French  Catholicism,  now,  in  a  later  age,  opened 
her  island  home  to  shelter  the  refugee  Catholic  priests  from  the  butcheiy 
of  French  Atheism.  Tried  by  those  two  eras  in  their  national  annals,  the 
Protestant  land  it  was  that  sowed  Charity  and  that  reaped  Peace ;  the 
Catholic  people  were  they  who  sowed  Romanist  Persecution,  and  reaped 
Infidel  Persecution  ;  and  having  given  Superstition  her  unlimited  seed, 
time,  saw  Skepticism  appear  uncontrolled  in  the  harvest  field. 

But  it  is  said  Germany  is  now  the  great  center  of  Infidelity,  and  with 
her  it  is  the  development  of  Protestantism.  The  earlier  movements  of 
German  scholarship  in  that  direction,  we  reply,  were  in  connection  with 
translations  from  Englisli  Deism,  but  its  more  advanced,  attended  similar 
incursions  of  French  Deism  and  Atheism.  Its  still  more  progressive 
stages  have,  with  the  many-sided  erudition  characteristic  of  the  land, 
borrowed  philosophy  from  the  recreant  Jew  of  Holland,  Spinoza,  and 
from  the  old  Pantheism  of  Persia  and  India.  Goethe,  so  powerful  a 
name  in  the  national  literature,  admired  and  emulated,  probably,  Vol- 
taire, more  than  any  other  of  the  earlier  celebrities.  Infidelity  was,  in  a 
very  marked  degree,  in  Germany,  an  exotic  transplanted  from  foreign 
nurseries  ;  and  of  those  nurseries,  besides  the  Hebrew  and  Oriental,  the 
French  contributed,  and  more  largely  far  than  the  British,  tlie  seedlings. 
In  this,  more  than  in  any  land.  Skepticism  invaded  the  University,  the 


THE    RELATIONS    OP    POPERY    AND    INFIDELITY.    249 

Pulpit,  and  the  Theological  School.  The  scourges  of  Providence,  in  the 
wars  following  the  French  Revolution,  soon  drove  men  to  straits,  Mdiere 
it  was  felt  that  Materialism  could  not  satisfy  the  soul's  ci-avings,  and  that 
Society  needed  Providence  as  a  refuge  and  a  ruler.  Men  looked  again 
to  a  shelved  Bible,  a  forgotten  Heaven,  and  an  exiled  Redeemer. 
Scholars  like  Stolberg,  Schle  gel  and  Novalis  sought,  in  the  Romish 
church,  truths  that  Rationalism  had  overlaid  in  the  Protestant  commun- 
ion. It  was  Uke  Naomi,  agoing  down,  when  famine  reigned  in  Judah,to 
seek  bread  in  the  land  of  Moab.  But  in  the  Protestant  churches  of 
Germany  evangelical  truth  was  recovered,  apart  from  all  such  changes 
of  Romish  proselytism:  and  in  those  Protestant  churches,  the  gospel 
has  had,  in  men  recently  dead  or  yet  living,  some  of  its  ablest  modern 
apologists. 

In  the  last  great  commotion  of  European  commonwealths,  the  Pan- 
theistic and  Socialistic  elements,  in  German  literature,  seemed  to  prove 
their  own  flagrant  incompetency  for  the  crisis  they  had  invoked.  The 
nation,  in  just  dread  of  such  leaders,  shrank  from  ameliorations  and 
emancipations  they  might  else  have  Avelcomed.  Having  ruined  the 
cause  of  political  freedom  at  homo,  some  of  these  errorists,  having 
migrated  to  our  shores,  insist  on  recasting  the  liberties  we  have  retained, 
on  the  model  of  those  which  they  wi-ecked  abroad,  by  our  surrender  of 
the  Sabbath,  and  the  Bible,  and  the  Christian  ministry,  that  we  may  accept 
Spinoza  as  our  prophet,  and  Pantheism  as  our  creed.  We  know  not  that 
Evangelical  Protestantism  has  shown  itself,  in  any  measure,  behind 
Catholicism,  in  resisting  such  crusaders. 

In  Germany  itself  Romanism,  quite  recently,  has  done  much  to  pro- 
voke and  feed  Skepticism.  The  exhibitors  of  the  Holy  Coat  of  Christ 
at  Treves,  called  out  the  German  Catholic  movement,  one  mainly  and 
essentially  Rationalistic  and  Socialistic.  Promising  much,  this  new  body 
accomplished  little ;  unless  it  were  the  unintended  demonstration,  that 
Romish  extravagances  of  superstition  may  provoke  as  fierce  an  onset  on 
all  Christian  verity  and  life,  as  ever  grew  out  of  a  debased  Protestantism. 

In  France  tlie  nominal  return  of  a  people,  wearied  and  scarred  with 
the  results  of  Materialism,  to  the  forms  of  the  Catholic  church,  has  not 
renewed,  in  the  higher  philoso})hers  or  men  of  science,  any  measure  of 
religious  principle  and  devouter  feeling,  at  all  equi\'alcnt  to  that  found 
in  the  same  class  of  thinkers  and  investigators  in  Protestant  Britain.  If 
Protestantism  be  the  true  i)arent  of  Infidelity,  how  is  this  singular  and 
incontrovertible  fact  to  be  accounted  for  ? 

Our  last  and  hurried  reference  shall  be  to  the  relative  merits  and 
achievements  of  Protestaiitism  and  Hoinamsm  in  counteractinr/  Skep- 
ticism. Let  it  be  remembered  how  early  Protestantism  appeared  in  that 
field  of  Christian  evidences  in  the  person  of  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
heroes  and  statesmen  of  the  old  French  Huguenots,  Du  Plessis  ]\[ornay. 
Later,  Grotius  of  Holland,  and  Abbadic,  the  French  Protestant,  did 


250  WILLIAM     R.    WILLIAMS. 

eminent  service.  Did  Huct,  the  learned  Catliolic  Bishop  of  Avranches, 
in  the  same  field,  or  did  Fenclon,  surpass  them  ?  And  for  the  decision 
of  tliis  question,  turn  to  the  great  collections  of  works  on  Christian 
Evidences,  edited  by  French  Catholic  scholars,  the  earlier  by  Genoude, 
the  later  and  larger  by  Migne.  It  will  be  seen,  that  a  very  considerable 
proportion  of  the  most  able  and  effective  treatises,  in  both  these  Catholic 
compilations,  are  by  Protestant  authors.  Genoude,  at  first  a  publicist, 
and  in  his  later  years  an  ecclesiastic,  of  acknowledged  talent  and  weight, 
remarks  frankly,  that  no  nation  has  pi-oduced  a  larger  amount  of  able 
reasoning  against  infidelity  than  the  English  :  and  observes,  that  it  may 
be  because  Protestants  make  their  faith  to  lean  so  much  upon  reason. 
Butler,  Bentley,  Lardner,  Elalyburton,  Lyttleton,  Paley,  Chalmers, 
Jenyns,  Watson,  and  Wilson,  where  are  they  surpassed  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Pascal  ?  And  how  much  in  Blaise  Pascal  was  intensely  Protestant  ? 
When  he  said — as  from  his  piivate  notes,  for  the  first  time  but  recently 
published,  it  appears  that  he  did  say — referring  to  the  condemnation 
of  his  letters  at  Rome  :  "If  my  letters  be  condemned  at  RoiiE,  they  are 
not  condemned  in  PIeaven,"  was  it  not,  in  effect,  to  renounce  ti'ust  in 
the  Vatican  as  the  scat  of  Infallibility,  and  to  deny  the  Pontiff  as  Vice- 
gerent of  the  King  of  Heaven  ?  Was  there  no  echo  of  Wittenberg  and 
of  Geneva,  in  the  heart  that  poured  out  from  its  profoundest  musings, 
the  unmatched  "  Thoughts  on  Religion  ?" 

We  would  not  deny  to  living  Romanists,  like  Wiseman  and  Maret, 
the  honor  of  their  efficient  labors  in  the  defense  of  the  Gospel.  But  the 
ablest  of  all  the  modern  defenders,  among  Romanists,  of  Christianity 
against  Skepticism,  was  the  great  Abbe  La  Mennais,  for  power  of  thought 
and  splendor  of  diction,  compared  by  them  to  Bossuet. .  As  in  a  former 
century,  the  great  Catholic  scholar,  Huet,  had  sought,  by  showing  the 
weakness  of  Human  Reason,  to  drive  men  over  to  the  authority  of  the 
Infallible  Church,  so,  but  with  more  energy  of  intellect,  and  with  more 
beauty  and  wealth  of  language  did  he.  It  was,  we  think,  Avith  both,  a 
fiilse  and  untenable  ground.  The  church  is,  after  all,  but  Human 
Authority.  Scripture,  in  the  exposition  of  Evangelical  Protestants,  asks 
men  to  rely,  directly  and  personally,  under  the  personal  guidance  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  in  the  exercise  of  their  own  best  reason  and  inmost  con- 
science, on  a  Pei'sonal,  Faithful,  and  Omnipresent  God.  It  is  Divine 
Authority,  accessible  to  every  penitent  and  devout  inquirer.  Ask  my 
faith  in  an  Omnipresent  Chkist.  I  see  the  right  of  the  claim.  Ask  my 
faith  in  a  Church,  which,  though,  visible,  is  neither  omnipresent  nor 
Divine  :  and  you  ask  my  reliance  on  Human  Authority.  The  foundation 
is  inherently  luisound.  It  gave  way  beneath  that  great  writer.  La 
Mennais  himself.  His  old  age  was  Rationalistic  and  Skeptical — moie 
Pantheistic,  we  fear,  than  Christian.  His  first  writings  tinged  with 
su])erstition,  hi  his  deference  to  the  Vatican,  and  his  last  with  Skepticism 
— they  were  but  bifurcations  of  the  same  error — an  undue  reliance  on 


THE    RELATIONS    OF    POPERY    AXD    IXFIDELITY.     251 

Human  Authority, — in  the  first  instance,  as  incorporated  in  the  Chuich  ; 
in  the  last  instance,  as  individualized  in  the  solitary  student. 

So  in  the  great  movement,  welling  out  from  the  great  English  Uni- 
versity of  Oxford,  a  similar  parallel  divergence  Avas  exhibited.  The  lof 
tiest  intellect  among  the  leaders  of  it,  John  H.  Newman,  on  the  current 
of  Human  Authority — the  authority  of  the  early  fathers  of  the  Church, 
developing  in  them  and  from  out  them — was  swe^it  into  the  Roman 
communion.  His  own  brother,  Francis  W.  Newman,  upon  another 
branch  of  the  same  stream,  another  bough  of  the  same  crotch — holding 
also  the  power  of  Human  Authority,  but  in  the  shape  of  the  reason  devel- 
oping out  of  the  individual  man — finds  his  way  forth  into  the  boldest, 
blankest  Rationalism,  denying  the  perfection  of  the  moral  character  even 
of  Jesus,  In  the  same  movement,  another  pair  of  brothers  illustrated 
the  same  forkings  of  the  road  of  Human  Authority.  Fronde,  whose 
diary,  published  after  his  death,  was  the  first  bold  proclamation  of  the 
Homeward  longings  of  the  Oxford  Tractarians,  has  left  a  brother  who  has 
turned  along  the  same  pathway  into  the  other  bifurcation  ;  and  Human 
Authority,  in  the  shajDe  of  the  individual  reason,  makes  this  latter  brother 
intensely  skeptical.  The  Absolute  Reason  of  the  Pantheist,  and  the 
Absolute  Church  of  the  Ultramontane  Romanist,  are,  after  all,  sustained 
on  the  same  common  trunk  of  Human  Authority.  It  is  easy  to  migrate, 
Avith  La  Mennais,  from  Romanism  to  Rationalism.  So  had  Gibbon  done, 
and  so  Bayle,  long  before.  Or,  on  the  other  hand,  a  man  begins  to  credit 
the  Church  rather  than  the  Head  of  the  Church,  and  soon  he  believes  in 
the  melting  blood  of  Saint  Januarius,  the  migrating  house  of  Loretto, 
and  the  Holy  Coat  of  Treves,  as  well  as  in  the  Gospels  or  the  Sacraments. 
And  so  a  man  who  indulged  but  lately  in  vaunts  of  skepticism  may  be- 
come, by  no  very  tedious  process,  a  devotee  of  the  winking  Madonna, 
like  the  Abbe  Ratisbon.  He  who  doubted  of  God  may  come  to  adore 
the  bread  wafer.  An  implicit  faith  in  Voltaire  may  be  changed,  as  easily 
as  the  garment  of  a  by-gone  fashion,  for  a  faith  as  implicit  in  the  Vatican. 

"What,  then,  are  our  auguries?  They  are  simply  these:  Jesus 
CuKisT,  the  very  God  incarmxte  in  our  human  nature,  yet  lives.  Ruler 
of  the  centuries,  nations,  and  schools,  and  Head  over  all  things  to  His 
own  spiritual  Church.  Our  faith  is  not  in  the  Church,  but  in  Him,  its 
Life,  its  Light,  its  Might — ever  present,  almighty,  and  unchanging. 
This  Christ  will  outlive  the  Superstitions  that  would  cover  Him  over, 
and  the  Skepticism  that  would  fain  thrust  Him  out.  Just  as  His 
prophet  Isaiah  will,  in  his  writings,  survive  all  the  Rabbinic  commenta- 
ries that  overlay  the  seer,  and  all  the  Rationalistic  interpreters  that 
would  wash  "ut  his  visions ;  so  the  Great  Redeemer,  Isaiah's  theme  and 
Lord,  will  outlast  the  Decretals  that  supplant,  and  the  oracles  of  Reason 
that  contradict  Him. 

In  God's  having  reserved  to  our  own  times  the  key  to  the  hieroglyph- 
ics of  the  land  of  the  Nile,  and  of  the  arrow-headed  inscriptions  of  Bab- 


252  WILLIAM    R.    WILLIAMS. 

ylon  and  Nineveh,  has  he  not  been  keeping  back  to  the  needful  hour,  as 
it  were,  a  whole  shelf  of  the  library  of  Scripture  evidences  ?  Has  he  not 
similar  designs  for  each  new  outbreak  of  the  old  abysses  of  unbelief  in 
the  human  heart  ?  Man  excogitates  new  cavils,  and  recasts  into  new 
missiles  the  old  spent  bombs  of  an  exjiloded  philosophy.  But  God's 
truth  and  cause  tower  serenely  on,  adequate  and  ready  to  repel,  with 
ever-growing  strength,  the  renewed  onset,  God's  providence  is  inter- 
paging,  with  each  new  scrawling  of  unbelief,  some  new  leaf  of  testimony. 
It  is  our  personal  privilege — our  personal  duty — our  interest,  and  our 
security,  and  our  glory,  to  become  for  ourselves,  individually,  the  con- 
verts and  epistles  of  this  Unchanging  Saviour,  and  of  his  Unwearying 
Spirit.  Nought  else  will  save  the  world — nought  else  will  save  our  own 
souls.  Then,  "  taught  of  the  Lord,"  we  shall  be,  like  the  old  Immortal 
Legion,  fit,  not  only  to  stand  in  the  evil  day,  but  to  roll  back,  in  our 
wedge-like  position,  the  bands  of  a  credulous  apostacy,  that  believe  every 
thing,  and  the  bands  of  an  Infidel  apostacy,  that  believe  nothing.  To 
their  common  ground  of  error,  the  paramount  claims  of  Human  Author- 
ity— in  the  school  or  in  the  Vatican,  or  in  the  isolated  consciousness — 
let  lis  oppose,  undauntedly,  the  more  scriptural  and  the  more  rational 
position,  the  Need  and  Force  of  Divine  Authority,  individually  consulted 
in  the  open  Scripture,  individually  invoked  in  the  Descending  Spirit, 
individually  experienced  in  the  regenerate  heart.  "  Let  God  be  true 
AKD  EVERY  MAX  A  LIAR !"  The  wedgc,  thus  resting  on  the  immutability 
and  veracity  of  God,  shall  not  be  broken.  From  its  serried  flanks  sliaU 
recede,  baffled  and  discomfited,  on  either  hand,  the  throngs  of  the  Tra- 
ditionist  and  the  Rationalist.  The  generations  pass,  and  their  philos- 
ophies and  their  celebrities  drop  with  them ;  but  the  faith  of  the 
churches,  God-warranted,  soars  above  those  changes,  indefectible,  immu- 
table, and  invincible.  "The  grass  withereth,  and  the  flower 
FADETH.     Surely  the  people  is  grass.    But  the  word  of  our  God 

shall  STA2fD  FOEIIVEK." 


I 


DISCOURSE    XIX. 

ALBERT     BARNES. 

The  remark  that  God  never  endows  a  man  with  the  gift  of  doing  more  than  one 
thing  ivell,  receives  a  striking  refutation  in  the  history  of  Mr.  Barnes.  It  were  dif- 
ficult to  determine  whether  he  excels  as  preacher  or  expositor — whether  he  is  more 
the  ploflding  student  or  the  pulpit  orator — the  successful  pastor  of  a  particular  flock, 
or  the  theological  writer  and  commentator  for  the  people.  Of  his  adaptedness  for 
the  one  position,  a  pastorate  of  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  with  a  large  and 
influential  church,  is  a  sufficient  evidence,  and  that  he  is  not  less  skillful  as  the  an- 
notator  and  biblical  critic,  is  evinced  by  the  wide  and  increasing  circulation  of  his 
"Notes"  and  publications  of  various  kinds. 

Mr.  Barnes,  hke  most  men  of  mark,  had  his  origin  in  humble  life.  He  was  born 
the  son  of  a  tanner,  in  the  township  of  Eome,  New  York,  December  1st, 
1 798 ;  and  in  early  life  assisted  his  father  at  his  trade,  and  at  the  same  time,  by  ap- 
plication to  reading  and  study,  laid  the  basis  of  a  solid  education.  It  was  not  until 
he  had  reached  the  age  of  twenty-two  years,  that  he  was  led  to  a  saving  knowl- 
edge of  Christ,  when  he  united  with  the  church  in  his  native  village.  This  was  the 
same  year  (1820)  that  he  graduated  at  Hamilton  College,  having  pursued  his  studies 
there  only  in  connection  with  the  senior  class.  In  November  of  that  year  he  en- 
tered the  Theological  Seminary  at  Princeton,  where,  after  a  three  years'  course,  he 
spent  another  year  as  resident  graduate.  He  was  Hcensed  to  preach,  in  April,  1824, 
and  on  the  twenty-fifth  day  of  the  following  February,  ordained  and  installed  as 
pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  church,  Morristown,  New  Jersey.  His  ministry  in  this 
place,  which  was  one  of  zeal  and  efficiency,  continued  for  five  years;  when  he 
accepted,  much  against  the  wishes  of  his  people,  a  call  from  the  First  Presbyte- 
rian church  in  Philadelphia,  and  entered  upon  the  duties  of  his  new  field,  June  25th, 
1830 ;  a  position  which  he  continues  to  fill  to  this  day. 

Mr.  Barnes  has,  thus  far,  led  a  life  of  active  and  laborious  toil.  The  labor  which 
he  has  performed — a  large  part  of  it  in  the  early  morn,  while  other  men  are  asleep 
— would  seem  to  be  enough  to  crush  any  constitution  but  one  of  iron.  It  is  not 
strange  that  for  a  while,  of  late  years,  he  was  deprived  of  all  use  of  his  eyes,  and 
in  other  respects  almost  unfitted  for  service.  His  Commentaries  alone,  in  some 
sixteen  or  eighteen  volumes,  are  a  monument  of  unremitting  industry.  It  must  be 
peculiarly  gratifying  to  their  author  to  witness  the  general  favor  with  which  they  have 
been  and  are  received.  It  is  stated  that  not  less  than  twenty-eight  thousand  volumes 
of  the  "Notes"  were  printed  in  the  year  ending  with  December,  1S5G:  at  which 
time  it  was  estimated  that  the  circulation  had  reached,  in  the  aggregate,  nearly  four 
hundred  thousand  copies.  Some  of  them  have  been  translated  into  several  languages. 


254  ALBERT    BARNES. 

Besides  these,  he  has  published  a  great  cumber  of  volumes  of  essays,  reviews,  ser- 
mons, addresses,  etc.,  of  a  practical  or  dogmatical  character.  Taken  together,  it  was 
estimated  at  tlie  time  referred  to,  that  the  circulation  of  all  his  works  had  amounted 
to  five  hundred  thousand  volumes.  His  "  Commentaries,"  as  indeed  all  his  works, 
are  of  a  popular  cast,  without  any  great  display  of  learning,  but  meeting  a  difficulty 
fairly,  and  penetrating  at  once  into  the  core  of  the  subject,  and  opening  it  up  to  the 
comprehension  of  every  mind. 

As  a  preacher,  !Mr.  Barnes  belongs  to  the  first  rank  of  American  divines.  His 
style  is  perfectly  neat  and  transparent,  and  his  fresh  and  weighty  thoughts  are  uttered 
with  the  various  essentials  of  true  effectiveness.  His  pulpit  eloquence  is  of  the  char- 
acter of  a  quiet,  deep,  wide,  and  fertilizing  river,  rather  than  of  a  rapid  and  rush- 
ing cataract.  He  enters  the  sanctuary  with  a  humble  and  subdued  air,  and  ascends 
the  pulpit  apparently  unconscious  of  the  presence  of  a  congregation.  While  wait- 
ing the  hour  of  service,  he  sits  as  if  in  meditation  or  prayer,  with  his  head  leaning 
upon  his  hand;  and  reads  the  Scriptures  and  the  hymn,  and  leads  in  prayer,  with 
careful  propriety  and  dignified  simplicity.  Of  late  years  he  does  not  often  preach 
from  a  manuscript ;  and,  except  Avhile  referring  to  a  text  ia  the  Bible,  his  eyes 
are  directed  toward  the  congregation.  It  is  said  that  the  same  elaborate  research, 
the  same  clear  apprehension  and  statement,  the  same  purity,  elevation,  and  strength 
of  language,  the  same  felicity  of  illustration  which  have  commended  his  various 
works  to  popular  favor,  characterize  his  ministrations. 

We  are  happy  in  being  able  to  lay  before  the  readers  of  this  volume,  a  sermon 
which  has  not  before  been  printed,  and  which  we  are  sure  will  be  read  with  interest 
and  profit.     The  theme  is  novel,  and  it  is  handled  with  a  master's  skill. 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  THE  GOSPEL  ON  THE  IMAGINATION. 

"Casting  down  imaginations,  and  every  high  thought  that  exalteth  itself  against  the 
knoTTledge  of  God,  and  brmging  into  captivity  every  thought  to  the  obedience  of  Christ." 
— 2  Corinthians,  x.  5. 

This  is  to  be  done,  according  to  the  context,  by  tbe  weapons  of  spir- 
itual warfare  with  which  the  gospel  furnishes  us.  It  is  not  by  carnal 
weapons,  not  by  military  force  ;  but  by  an  armor  which  the  gospel  sup- 
plies. The  war  is  to  be  made  on  wrong  opinions,  on  false  philosophy, 
on  reasonings  or  imaginations  which  tend  to  inflate  the  mind,  and  to 
corrupt  the  heart — the  strongholds  of  sin.  The  object  of  the  gospel  ia 
to  achieve  complete  victory  over  the  whole  realm  of  mind  and  heart ; 
to  lead  every  thought  captive  to  the  obedience  of  Christ,  or  to  subdue 
all  to  him.  The  sentiment  of  the  text  then  is,  that  it  is  the  design  of 
the  gospel  to  make  war  on  the  prevailing  opinions,  doctrines,  sentiments, 
philosophy,  and  imaginings,  in  the  world,  which  stand  up  against  the 
dominion  of  Christ  over  the  human  soul. 

From  the  wide  range  of  thought  into  which  Ave  might  be  led  by  the 
text  thus  explained,  I  propose  to  select  one  single  department,  in  ordei 


INFLUENCE     OF    THE     GOSPEL.  255 

to  illusti-ate  the  efFects  of  conversion.    It  is  its  power  of  the  imaginctr 
tion,  or  its  iy^fluence  in  promoting  a  jy  ire  fancy.     We  shall  consider, 

I.  The  influence  of  this  faculty  of  mind  iipon  the  formation  of  cliarar 
ter ;  and 

II.  The  power  which  the  gospel  exerts  in  making  it  jiure. 

I.  The  influence  of  the  imagination  in  the  formation  of  character. 

1.  In  illustrating  this  head,  my  first  remark  is,  that  it  is  prob- 
able that  in  numerous  cases,  if  not  in  all,  the  imagination  has  more 
to  do  with  the  formation  of  character  than  any  other  faculty  of  the 
mind.  It  is  constantly  operating  in  bringing  various  objects  before 
us  ;  in  giving  them  their  peculiar  color  and  attractiveness ;  and  in  seizing 
upon  the  aflections  of  the  heart.  It  takes  us  away  from  the  cold,  dull, 
tame  realities  of  life,  where  there  may  be  little  to  interest  or  attract  us, 
or  where  there  is  much  to  pain  us,  to  ideal  scenes,  which  we  may  make 
just  what  we  please.  Its  operations,  either  for  good  or  bad,  are  constant 
and  almost  incessant,  and  almost  omnipotent.  The  conscience  acts  com- 
paratively rarely,  and  on  great  occasions.  The  reason  and  the  JudgmenS 
with  most  persons  are  allowed  much  less  influence  in  forming  their  oinn- 
ions  than  prejudice,  and  j^assion,  and  feeling.  The  memory  has  less 
influence  in  foi-ming  the  character  than  the  imagination — for  there  are, 
with  us  all,  fewer  things  tliat  we  delight  to  remember,  than  that  we  hope 
to  enjoy.  Could  we  take  our  characters  to  pieces  as  we  may  a  watch, 
and  look  at  all  the  secret  springs  and  influences  that  have  gone  to  molt^ 
our  views,  we  should  probably  be  surprised  to  find  how  much  the  influ- 
ence of  the  imagination  has  had  to  do  v/iih  making  us  what  we  are. 
This  remark  in  regard  to  the  constancy  of  its  operations,  has  pecuhar 
importance  in  relation  to  the  young.  It  is  then  that  the  character  is 
formed  ;  and  it  is  then  that  the  fancy  is  most  vivid  and  controlling.  The 
young  have  little  to  dwell  upon  in  the  past,  for  memory  has,  as  yet,  left 
few  traces  in  their  souls  ;  they  have  not  learned  to  look  with  distrust  on 
the  bright  picturings  of  the  future  ;  for  their  anticipations  have  not  been 
sobered  by  the  disappointments  and  sadness  of  life ;  they  are  not  often 
l^laced  in  circumstances  which  demand  the  stern  application  of  the  decisions 
of  conscience  and  reason,  and  they  allow  visions  of  fancy  to  float  before 
the  eye  of  the  soul,  and  the  mind  to  be  molded  by  their  small,  but 
fascinating  forms.  The  characters  of  not  a  few  persons  are  made  up  of 
mere  imagination. 

"  Tlie  lunatic,  the  lover,  ar  .  die  poet, 
Are  of  imagination'all  compact. 
One  has  more  devils  than  vast  hell  can  hold, 
That  is  the  madman ;  the  lover  all  as  frantic, 
Soee  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of  Egypt : 


256  ALBERT    BARNES. 

The  poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth — from  earth  to  heaven, 

And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  form  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 

Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name." 

How  many  entire  characters  are  there  in  the  world,  which  have  been 
formed  wholly  under  the  influence  of  romance,  in  which  there  has  been 
nothing  drawn  from  real  life  ;  nothing  from  the  sober  maxims  of  truth  ! 
Who  can  estimate  the  number  of  such  characters  which  are  forming 
under  the  influence  of  the  novels  poured  from  a  prolific  press  every  day 
in  our  times  ? 

2.  My  second  remark  is,  that  the  imagination  is  evidently  designed  by 
the  Creator  to  produce  an  important  effect  on  the  character  and  happiness 
of  man.  It  is  intended  to  raise  us  from  the  dull  and  tedious  monotony 
of  the  realities  which  are  around  us,  and  to  elevate  us  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  higher  and  nobler  objects.  It  is  designed  to  place  us  amid  antici- 
pated scenes,  which  will  be  fitted  to  exalt  what  is  groveling ;  to  purify 
what  is  gross ;  and  to  remove  what  is  debasing  and  corrupt.  It  is  the 
power  to  create  scenes  of  rare  beauty;  to  collect  and  blend  the  charms 
of  nature,  which  exist  singly  in  reality ;  to  place  together  in  one  group 
the  choice  thouglits  of  sentiment  and  devotion ;  to  unite  in  the  same  per- 
son excellences  scattered  among  many  in  real  life,  that  shall  lead  us  to 
contemplate  a  perfect  character ;  to  arrange  circumstances  that  shall  fill 
up  the  conception  of  unsullied  purity  and  happiness  in  some  scene  such 
as  the  earth  has  never  witnessed,  and  to  hold  these  beautiful  images  be- 
fore the  mind  until  the  heart  shall  love  them  and  the  soul  shall  pant  for 
what  it  has  not  been  permitted  to  enjoy.  Such  a  power  is  evidently  one 
that  is  adapted  to  have  an  important  connection  with  religion — for  relig- 
ion relates  much  to  the  future  and  the  unseen,  and  its  influence  on  the 
soul  is  derived  in  a  great  measure  from  appeals  made  to  the  eye  of  faith, 
and  not  to  the  eye  of  sense.  The  things  of  religion  are  mostly  in  the 
invisible  Avorld.  Its  design  is  to  raise  the  soul  above  the  objects  of 
time  and  sense,  to  the  contemplation  of  anticipated  beauties  and  glories 
there. 

3.  My  third  remark  is,  that  the  imagination,  as  it  is  actually  exercised 
by  the  great  mass  of  men,  is  little  fitted  to  elevate  or  purify  the  charac- 
ter. There  are  operations  of  this  faculty,  corrupt  in  the  extreme  in  their 
tendency,  of  which  I  can  not  speak.  But  there  are  also  those  exerting 
a  vast  influence  to  no  advantage,  which  it  is  not  improper  to  describe. 
Let  any  one  look  into  the  chambers  of  his  own  soul,  and  mark  what  is 
habitually  passing  there,  and  he  will  be  sensible  of  the  influence  of  this 
faculty  on  his  character.  Look  at  the  amount  of  time  which  is  spent  in 
mere  day-dreams  as  unreal  as  the  dreams  of  the  night,  and  as  profitless. 
There  are  few — are  there  any  ? — who  have  not  spent  more  time  by  far, 


INFLUENCE     OF     THE     GOSPEL.  257 

than  is  needful  to  secure  the  salvation  of  the  soul,  in  schemes  of  fancied 
po}3ulanty,  wealth,  scholarship,  amusement,  huilding  "  castles  in  the  air?" 

A  young  man  dreams  of  wealth,  and  instead,  of  looking  at  the  sober 
reality,  and  the  little  prospect  he  may  have  of  obtaining  it — on  the  little 
probability  that  it  will  satisfy  him  or  be  usefully  employed  if  he  secures 
it — he  begins  to  act  in  the  ideal  scene,  and  thinks  of  the  good  which  he 
will  do,  or  the  homage  that  will  be  2:)aid  him,  or  the  comforts  that  he 
will  gather  around  him,  or  the  amusements  which  it  will  open  before 
him — and  the  mind  revels  profitless  in  the  unreal  scene.  Another 
dreams  of  honor :  he  is  beyond  all  his  competitors ;  he  has  carried  all 
the  prizes  of  scholarship;  he  outpeers  all  others  in  his  profession;  his 
path  is  thronged  with  clients,  or  his  name  is  blazoned  abroad  as  an 
author  through  other  lands ;  the  honor  of  his  acquaintance  is  sought,  and 
Ills  name,  he  fancies,  is  immortal.  He  begins  to  live  in  that  unreal  scene, 
and  for  it,  and  it  throws  back  an  influence,  good  or  bad,  on  every  step 
he  takes,  and  on  every  plan  he  forms.  The  votaries  of  fashion  dwell  on 
dress,  and  adulation,  and  the  displays  of  person  that  shall  charm  every 
eye,  and  of  triumj^hs  at  home  and  abroad ;  and  amid  such  scenes  the 
fancy  roves,  and  such  brilliant  prospects  entrance  the  soul.  The  poli- 
tician, the  orator,  the  poet,  the  scholar,  the  professional  man,  thus  live 
no  small  part  of  their  time  amid  day-dreams,  and  amid  an  influence  not 
drawn  from  objects  real,  or  ever  to  he  real,  but  such  as  they  choose  at 
pleasure  to  form.  The  dull,  cold,  monotonous  reality  of  life,  they  can  not 
conti-ol :  that  must  be  met  as  it  is ;  but  these  fancied  realms  may  be 
shaped  and  peopled  at  pleasure,  and  there  we  may  be  just  what  we 
please — kings,  princes,  scholars,  nobles,  poets,  orators,  or,  in  personal  ac- 
complislunents,  the  admired  of  all.  These  thoughts  come  into  our  minds 
in  moments  of  leisure ;  they  intrude  into  our  houses  of  devotion,  and 
often,  in  either  case,  we  are  willing  to  welcome  them  ;  for  the  sad  or 
cheerless  i3resent  has  little  to  interest  or  hold  us  there. 

4.  My  fomth  remark  is,  that  many  of  these  imaginings  may  be  ii.no- 
cent,  but  not  all.  Such  musings  as  Cowper  had  are  entirely  harmless, 
when  he  said  : 

"  Me  oft  has  fancy,  ludicrous  and  wild, 
Soothed  with  a  waking  dream  of  houses,  towers, 
Trees,  churches,  and  strange  visages,  expressed 
In  the  red  cinders,  while  with  peering  eye 
I  gazed,  myself  creating  what  I  saw. 
Nor  less  amused,  have  I  (luiesccnt  watched 
The  sooty  films  that  play  upon  the  bars, 
Pendulous  and  forebodin.g,  in  the  view 
Of  superstition,  prophesying  still. 
Though  still  deceived,  some  stranger's  near  approach. 
'Tis  thus  the  understanding  takes  repose 
In  indolent  vacuity  of  thought. 
And  sleep?,  and  is  refreshed," 
17 


258  ALBERT    BARNES. 

If  they  produce  no  positive  good,  an^  do  nothing  to  promote  virtue 
and  enlarge  the  heart,  they,  at  least,  leave  no  foundation  for  regret  in 
view  of  any  polluting  influence.  But  this  is  the  character  of  a  small 
part  of  the  imaginings  of  the  heart.  Many  indulge  themselves  in  form- 
ing pictures  when  the  reality  would  be  aggravated  crime.  Many  dwell 
on  fancied  scenes,  where  such  realities  would  only  corrupt  and  destroy. 
The  very  passage  of  many  a  thought  thi'ough  the  mind,  though  it  should 
be  expelled  in  a  moment,  leaves  a  stain  there  which  is  never  on  earth  to 
be  eifaced  ;  and  many  a  tliought  of  this  desciiption  is  recalled  and  dwelt 
upon  until,  under  the  influence  of  memory,  it  exerts  afresh  all  the  power 
it  ever  had  to  pollute  the  soul.  No  bosom,  probably,  and  no  place  is 
safe  from  such  intrusions.  Even  in  reading  the  Bible,  the  mind  often 
Avanders  far  off  to  some  ideal  scene,  and  the  words  meet  the  eye,  but  the 
sense  does  not  reach  the  heart.  In  prayer,  the  thoughts  wander  away 
from  God,  and,  ere  we  are  aware,  while  the  words  are  on  our  lips,  the 
fancy  is  reveling  amid  some  ideal  worldly  scene.  In  the  sanctuary,  and 
on  the  Sabbath,  while  the  words  descriptive  of  the  love  of  Christ,  or  the 
joys  of  heaven,  fall  on  the  listless  ear,  the  fancy  is  picturing  to  itself  some 
scene  of  future  worldly  delight,  and  images  of  wealth,  and  ambition,  and 
gaudy  dresses,  and  the  dance,  flit  across  the  mind.  It  is  not  reason  that 
corrupts,  or  judgment  that  blinds,  or  conscience  that  betrays  men  ;  it  is 
that  the  imagination  is  busy  with  unreal  scenes  or  pictures,  that  only 
corrupt,  and  the  word  of  truth  falls  on  inattentive  ears. 

Few  indeed  are  the  pictures  which  the  fancy  forms,  which  can  be  in- 
dulged in  with  safety  to  the  -soul ;  and,  perhaps,  when  the  sinner  is 
judged,  and  the  soul  lost,  it  will  be  found,  to  an  extent  of  Avhich  he  little 
dreams  now,  that  he  will  owe  his  everlasting  ruin  to  an  unchecked  and 
unrestrained  imagination,  just  as  many  a  youth  now  is  ruined  in  his  char- 
acter and  peace  by  this  cause :  I  say,  unchecked  and  unrestrained. 

Conduct  that  would  destroy,  is  checked  by  the  restraints  of  social 
life,  and  the  toorcls  that  would  disgrace  are  checked  by  regard  to  char- 
acter and  reputation.  But  there  are  no  such  restraints  on  an  evil  heart. 
Its  workings  may  be  indulged  in  the  presence  of  any  others,  no  matter 
how  pure — in  any  place,  no  matter  how  holy — and  the  process  of  death 
may  be  going  on  in  the  soul,  in  the  society  of  the  most  lovely  and  holy, 
and  near  the  very  altars  aiul  in  the  temples  of  a  holy  God. 

5.  I  add  another  thought  under  this  head,  to  illustrate  the  importance 
of  this  faculty  of  the  mind  in  the  formation  of  character.  It  is,  that  all 
who  attempt  to  corrupt  the  world,  make  their  appeal  in  a  great  measure 
tlirough  it.  Few,  comparatively,  aie  tlie  appeals  by  the  unprin(!ij)led 
and  the  vile  to  the  reason  of  mankind,  and  still  fewer  to  the  conscience ; 
but  no  one  can  estimate  the  number  made  to  the  fancy.  They  come  to 
the  soul  when  most  plastic  and  tender,  in  the  poetry  that  charms,  and  in 
the  works  of  fiction  in  which  every  age,  and  our  own  eminently,  abounds. 

XJni'eal  characters,  scenes  representing  unreal  life,  and  pictures  of  a 


INFLUENCE     OF    THE     GOSPEL.  259 

fancied  world,  are  presented,  to  form  the  opinions  and  to  invite  the 
heart.  The  press  groans  under  such  productions,  and  there  are  millions 
of  the  young  who  commence  their  career  with  views  and  feelings  that 
have  been  molded  by  those  works  of  genius,  rather  than  by  any  just 
conception  of  truth  and  of  the  realities  of  life.  In  all  the  works  of 
poetry,  also,  there  are  gifted  but  guilty  minds, 

"  Whose  poisoned  song 
"Would  blend  the  bounds  of  right  and  wrong, 
And  hold  with  sweet,  but  cursed,  art. 
Their  incantations  o'er  the  heart, 
Till  every  pulse  of  pure  desire 
Throbs  with  the  glow  of  jjassion's  fire." 

Probably,  in  all  ages,  if  man  was  to  be  corrupted,  the  approach  was 
to  be  made  through  the  imagination.  If  unreal  %aews  of  life  are  to  be 
formed,  if  the  passions  are  to  be  inflamed,  if  the  thoughts  are  to  be 
alienated  from  all  that  would  elevate  nnd  sanctify — the  ap^^eal  is  to  be 
made  there.  Philosophy  aflTects  the  few,  the  creations  of  fxncy  the 
many.  In  looking  over  our  own  lives,  it  is  probable  that  we  can  find  but 
few  bad  influences  on  our  souls  which  have  not  had  their  origin  there; 
and  for  one  corrupting  appeal  which  has  been  made  to  the  reason  and 
conscience,  a  thousand  have  been  made  to  the  fancy.  It  is  from  consider- 
ations such  as  these,  Avhich  might  be  indeed  greatly  expanded,  that  the 
importance  of  this  faculty  of  the  mind  is  seen  in  its  relation  to  mcial 
character.  Its  ojDerations  in  any  other  respect  do  not  approj^riately  fall 
in  with  this  place  and  with  the  duties  of  this  day.     I  proceed  to  our 

II.  Second  object ;  to  consider  the  influence  of  Christianity  on  this 
faculty.  The  inquiry  is,  what  eftect  would  be  produced  by  bringing  the 
mind  under  the  fair  influence  of  the  gospel ;  by  bringing  "  every  thought 
into  captivity  to  the  obedience  of  Christ."     I  observe, 

1.  In  the  first  place,  that  religion  gives  sober  and  chastened  views  of 
tilings.  It  has  to  do  with  realities,  and  one  object  of  the  gospel  is  to 
fix  the  mind  on  those  realities.  It  takes  away  the  soul  from  scenes  of 
fancied  existence,  and  from  the  gay  pictures  which  the  mind  has  formed 
to  a  sober  contemjjlation  of  what  actually  is,  and  what  is  to  be.  AVe 
shall  inquire  in  another  part  of  our  subject  whether  it  affords  a  suflicient 
range  for  the  healthful  exercise  of  this  faculty ;  but  the  remark  now  is, 
that  whatever  i-ange  the  mind  is  allowed  under  the  gospel,  is  limited  to 
what  is  real  and  true.  It  is  contemplated  that  no  effect  is  to  be  pro- 
duced on  the  soul  which  the  truth  is  not  adapted  to  nourish  and  sustain. 
Tlie  effect  of  this  on  the  soul  of  man  can  not  but  be  vast,  and  as  salutary 
as  it  is  vast.     Look  at  a  few  illustrations  of  it. 

When  Christ  appeared  on  the  earth  to  introduce  his  religion  to  th« 
nations,  the  corrupt  mythology  of  the  heathen  had  peopled  all  the  iu- 


260  ALBERT    BARNES. 

visible  world  with  imaginary  beings,  claiming  tlie  homage  of  man,  and 
controlling  his  destiny,  Gods  and  goddesses  swarmed  in  the  sky,  in  the 
waters,  and  on  the  land,  and  everywhere  altars  had  been  erected  to 
propitiate  their  favor,  or  to  deprecate  their  wrath.  None  of  these  were 
wholly  pure ;  most  of  them  were  debased  and  sensual  in  the  highest 
degree.  At  one  stroke  Christianity  swept  all  these  away,  and  anni- 
hilated all  the  power  which  these  fancied  beings  had  usurped  over  the 
soul.  Instead  of  the  multitude  of  gods,  one  God  alone  was  revealed; 
instead  of  hosts  of  subordinate  divinities  mth  contending  interests,  and 
corrupt  passions,  demanding  a  temple  and  an  altar  in  every  village  and 
every  grove,  and  under  every  green  tree,  and  a  protecting  image  by 
every  fireside,  one  great  mediator  was  proclaimed  to  men  offering  a 
perfect  sacrifice  for  sin,  and  rendering  altars  and  oblations  henceforward 
useless.  Instead  of  the  doubt  which  existed  about  the  immortality  of 
the  soul,  and  the  endless  conjectures  of  the  fancy  about  the  future  state, 
the  undying  nature  of  the  soul  was  affii-med  without  ambiguity,  and  a 
heaven  revealed  of  eternal  purity.  The  creations  of  fancy  that  had 
thus  been  accumulating  for  ages,  and  that  were  modified  by  all  that  a 
corrupt  imagination,  or  that  conscious  guilt  could  do,  were  thus  swept 
away  at  once,  and  all  their  influence  on  the  human  mind,  producing 
terror  and  superstition,  and  pollution,  was  stayed. 

But  look  a  moment  at  the  influence  of  the  gospel  on  the  mind  that 
has  allowed  itself  to  roam  amid  unreal  scenes  till  now.  To  such  a  mind, 
when  brought  under  the  power  of  Christianity,  life,  once  a  trifle,  be- 
comes a  momentous  reality.  It  is  not  a  dream,  or  a  succession  of  fancied 
scenes ;  it  is  made  up  of  hours  and  moments,  each  one  of  which  in  its 
rapid  flight  leaves  an  indelible  impression  on  the  soul ;  it  is  connected 
with  facts  that  are  of  the  deepest  importance,  and  that  have  not  one 
characteristic  of  a  dream  of  the  imagination  ;  it  is  advancing  to  results 
boundless  in  their  character  and  duration,  where  in  the  solemn  realities 
the  fancy  itself  wanders  exhausted,  and  is  lost.  Life  is  a  sober  business 
of  preparing  for  another  world  ;  the  soul  is  to  be  saved  ;  the  crown  of 
glory  is  to  be  won ;  sin  is  to  be  subdued  ;  the  passions  are  to  be  re- 
strained and  purified  ;  death  is  to  be  met.  These  are  sober  realities  ; 
and  to  the  Chi-istian  mind  they  have  a  solemnity  and  an  importance 
which  at  once  turns  away  the  soul  from  day-di-eams,  and  gives  it  occu- 
pancy in  the  severe  and  accurately-bounded  visions  of  truth.     Again  : 

When  the  mind  is  impressed  with  the  importance  of  religion,  all  these 
things  have  the  power  over  the  soul  of  reality.  The  youth  that  dreams 
of  future  honor  that  shall  satisfy,  or  of  wealth  that  shall  meet  his  wants, 
or  of  pleasures  that  shall  have  no  alloy,  knows,  or  may  easily  know,  that 
it  is  a  mere  fancy  sketch.  There  Jiave  been  no  such  honors,  or  riches, 
or  pleasures  in  this  world,  nor  will  there  be  ;  and  it  is  very  easy  for  any 
youth  to  certify  himself  of  that  fact.  In  nOne  of  those  dreams  of  the 
fancy  are  we  in  fact  so  lost  as  to  suppose  them  real,  and  a  moment's 


INFLUENCE     OF     THE     GOSPEL.  201 

thought  will  break  the  whole  charm,  and  dispel  the  illusion,  Bu*.  ie  who 
fixes  his  thoughts  on  heaven,  feels  assured  that  it  is  a  most  affecting 
reality.  He  believes  there  is  no  illusion  about  it.  The  charm  of  the 
contemplation  is  not  dispelled  by  a  return  to  the  sober  realities  of  this 
life,  for  they  only  serve  to  heighten  the  conviction  of  the  superior 
grandeur  and  desirableness  of  that  unseen  world.  The  objects  that  now 
interest  the  soul  are  sober,  rational,  real ;  and  the  wandering  mind  is 
fettered  down  to  what  is  i"eal  and  what  is  true. 

2.  As  a  second  illustration  of  the  effect  of  the  gospel  on  the  imagina- 
tion, I  observe,  that  all  the  objects  presented  to  the  mind  by  it,  are  fitted 
to  produce  a  pure  and  holy  influence.  There  is  not  one  that  can  be  per- 
verted to  purposes  of  corruption,  however  long  they  may  be  contem- 
plated, or  in  whatever  forms  they  may  be  grouped  or  molded.  Let  us 
look  back  for  one  moment,  at  some  of  these  objects  which  most  excite 
the  attention  and  interest  of  the  Christian. 

(a).  Foremost  in  the  things  that  attract  his  eye,  and  that  win  his 
heart,  are  the  sufle rings  of  the  Redeemer.  Now,  in  those  sufferings  in 
the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  on  the  cross,  there  is  all  that  could  ever 
exist  to  give  employment  to  a  pure  imagination.  The  Godhead  of  the 
suflerer — the  union  with  human  nature — the  benevolence  of  his  works — 
the  views  which  he  had  of  man — of  God — of  eternity — the  scene  in  the 
garden — the  silence  of  midnight — the  sleeping  disciples — the  neighbor- 
ing mount — the  adjacent  city — the  approaching  Roman  band — the 
stealthful  tread  of  the  traitor — the  angel  ministering  to  the  feeble  human 
nature  of  the  sufferer ;  and  the  scene  on  the  cross — the  darkened 
heavens — the  earthquake — the  rising  dead — the  Roman  guard — the 
pressing  throng — the  eye,  the  brow,  the  tortured  body  of  the  Redeemer 
— all  are  circumstances  on  wdiich  the  imagination  may  dwell,  and  with 
more  engrossing  power  than  any  thing  else  that  ever  appealed  to  man. 
Yet  here  all  is  pure.  It  is  impossible  so  to  picture  those  scenes  as  to 
minister  to  a  depraved  fancy,  or  to  be  otherwise  than  a  soui'ce  of  jiurity 
to  the  soul.  When  the  mind  wanders  most ;  when  the  images  before  it 
are  of  a  character  least  likely  to  sanctify ;  when  the  Christian  allows  his 
affections  to  rove  most  on  forbidden  things,  one  glance  at  the  cross,  one 
moment's  contemplation  of  the  scene  in  Gethsemane,  checks  all  the  wan- 
dering, and  rebukes  all  this  indulgence.  The  mind  comes  back  to  sober 
reality — to  scenes  of  unequaled  purity — and  to  places  where  we  feel,  and 
can  not  but  feel,  that  no  impure  thought  should  be  allowed  to  intrude. 

{b).  Again :  when  we  think  of  heaven,  the  eflect  can  not  but  be 
pure.  A  single  moment's  reflection  will  satisfy  any  one,  that  in  the 
great  account  of  that  blessed  world  in  the  Bible,  there  is  enough  to  give 
ample  scope  to  all  the  conceptions  of  the  most  brilliant  and  discursive 
fancy.  My  remark  now  is,  that  all  the  conceptions  of  heaven  which  are 
based  on  the  Bible,  are  fitted  to  purify  the  soul.  The  follower  of  Mo- 
hammed thinks  of  a  heaven,  the  anticipation  of  which  will  minister  to 


262  ALBERT    BARNES. 

every  bad  passion  of  bis  nature  ;  tlie  heaven  of  the  Christian  is  the  abode 
of  intelligent  boliness.  He  dreams  of  no  world  where  wealth  will  be 
the  engrossing  object ;  where  ambition  will  pursue  its  plans ;  where  the 
soul  will  be  devoted  to  sensuality  ;  where  there  will  be  envy  or  malice, 
pride  or  corruption.  In  his  heaven  there  are  two  elements  ;  first,  holi- 
ness y'  second,  hnoioledge ;  both  ever  advancing  and  expanding,  and 
both  having  an  ample  field  for  indulgence  and  increase.  He  thinks  of 
no  friends  there  who  are  not  holy  ;  of  no  employments  which  are  not 
pure.  The  friends  that  he  has  parted  with  here,  and  that  he  expects  to 
meet  there,  are  those,  and  those  only,  who  are  renewed  in  heart,  and 
whose  sanctification,  though  but  begun  here,  is  made  perfect  there ;  the 
new  friendship  that  he  expects  to  form  there  with  those  who  have  gone 
from  our  world,  are  with  the  excellent  and  good  of  all  ages ;  the  new 
friendships  with  other  beings  are  with  those  unfallen  spirits  who  never 
had  an  impure  thought  or  an  unholy  desire.  The  songs  in  Avhich  he  will 
join  are  not  those  which  inflame  the  passions ;  the  joys  anticipated  are 
not  those  which  enfeeble  the  intellect  or  corrupt  the  heart.  The  God, 
in  whose  presence  he  is  to  be  forever,  is  a  pure  and  holy  God ;  nor  does 
he  anticipate  a  pleasure  there  which  shall  not  promote  the  purity  of  his 
nature.  Even  in  imagination  the  employments  of  heaven  can  not  be 
made  such  as  shall  have  an  unholy  influence  on  the  heart.  There  may 
be  much — we  think  it  likely  there  is  much  in  the  common  anticipations 
of  heaven  Avhich  will  prove  to  be  eri-oneous,  and  when  we  reach  that 
world,  we  may  find  it  far  diflerent  from  what  we  had  pictured  to  our 
fancy ;  but  still,  all  the  influence  which  it  exerts  is  pure. 

Correct  or  incorrect  in  the  details,  the  only  image  that  floats  before 
the  fancy  of  the  Christian  is  holy.  The  beings  that  are  there  are  holy  ; 
the  employments  are  j^ure  ;  the  waters  flow  from  crystal  fountains  ;  the 
robes  are  white ;  and  the  crowns  are  crowns  of  gold.  And  as  often  as 
the  mind  of  the  Christian  can  be  raised  from  earth  to  heaven,  it  ascends 
above  a  world  of  sin  and  of  corrupting  illusions,  like  ascending  from  low 
plains,  where  are  mephitic  vapors,  to  mountain-tops,  where  the  air  is 
always  pure.  You  may  say  that  this  is  mere  fancy.  We  will  not  quar- 
rel about  that ;  let  us  agree  on  the  one  point — that  he  who  presents  a 
pure  object,  or  group  of  objects,  eminently  attractive  to  the  soul,  all 
whose  combinations  are  pure  and  holy,  and  which  never  can  be  other- 
wise, has  done  something  to  break  in  upon  the  selfishness  and  corruption 
of  the  human  heart. 

I  might  go  on  to  speak  of  other  things  in  which  the  imagination  of 
the  Christian  is  concerned.  I  might  speak  of  his  conception  of  God  ;  of 
the  death-bed  scene  ;  of  the  anticipated  reign  of  truth  and  piety  in  the 
world  ;  of  the  glories  of  that  "  illustrious  morn"  that  shall  break  from 
the  sky  when  the  dead  shall  all  arise  ;  but  the  subjects  selected  will  pre- 
sent the  general  idea.  Think,  O  Christian,  when  thy  fancy  roams  on  for- 
bidden things ;  when  the  objects  of  time  and  sense  group  themselves  in 


INFLUENCE     OF    THE     GOSPEL.  263 

attractive  combinations  before  tliy  soul ;  when  some  unhallowed  pleasure 
allures  thy  heai't,  and  a  charm  almost  resistless  draws  thee  along  to  the 
place  of  worldly  amusement ;  when  the  power  of  early  corrupt  associa- 
tions fills  thy  memory  with  polluted  images  ;  think  then  of  thy  Redeemer 
in  the  garden  or  on  the  cross ;  think  of  his  agony  and  bloody  sweat ; 
thuik  of  the  crown  of  thorns,  the  bleeding  hands,  the  mild,  sweet, 
languid  eye  of  the  dying  sufferer  ;  or  think  *of  heaven,  of  God  ;  of  thy 
Saviour  in  glory  ;  of  the  shining  ranks  of  seraphs  ;  of  thy  departed 
sister,  child,  that  is  there  ;  of  the  songs  of  praise  that  ascend  around  the 
thi'one.'  Let  the  influence  of  these  scenes  enter  into  thy  soul ;  and  thou 
shalt  feel  that  thy  heart  is  not  the  place  for  impure  images  and  corrupt 
imaginings. 

3.  My  third  and  last  illustration  of  the  power  of  Christianity  on  the 
imagination  Avill  be  derived  from  this  consideration :  that  the  objecta 
which  religion  presents  to  the  mind  are  just  such  as  are  adapted  to  the 
imagination  as  it  is  made  by  its  Creator.  There  are  two  things  which 
seem  to  be  demanded  in  order  that  it  shall  accomplish  the  moral  purpose 
to  which  it  is  adapted.  The  first  is,  that  the  objects  which  it  contem- 
plates should  be  pure  ;  the  other  is,  that  there  should  be  sufficient  obscu- 
rity in  regard  to  them  to  give  the  most  ample  scope  to  its  powers.  It 
can  not  dwell  on  mere  details  ;  it  is  not  the  faculty  that  finds  its  home  in 
statistics;  its  place  is  not  the  exact  sciences.  It  has  its  starting-point  in 
hints,  and  suggestions,  and  thought  of  truth,  and  then  the  wide  range 
is  before  it,  where  it  combines,  and  creates,  and  bodies  forth  unseen  things 
to  the  view.  I  have  adverted  to  the  fact  that  Christianity  has  removed  all 
the  creations  of  the  ancient  mythology,  and  swept  away  the  multitude 
of  divinities  with  which  a  troubled  conscience,  or  an  impure  fancy,  had 
peopled  the  heavens.  It  has  left  a  pure  sky ;  opened  an  immensity  of 
worlds  peopled  only  by  holy  beings ;  thrown  open  the  portals  of  heaven 
for  the  mind  to  range  there ;  and  spoken  of  eternal  employments  and 
joys  in  that  blessed  world.  The  thought  which  I  wish  now  to  suggest, 
is,  that  wliile  Christianity  is  based  on  lacts,  and  while  those  facts  are 
stated  with  the  most  accurate  precision,  and  will  bear  the  appUcation  of 
the  severest  laws  of  criticism,  yet  the  form  in  which  they  are  presented 
is  just  as  if  it  were  intended  to  make  the  most  that  is  possible  to  be 
made  of  the  imagination.  Truth  and  holuiess  are  the  broad  basis  on 
which  all  is  to  rest ;  but  there  is  obscurity,  there  is  grandeur,  there  is 
vastness,  there  is  infinitude,  on  which  the  mind  may  range  forever. 
Take,  for  example,  what  I  have  already  referred  to,  the  suflermgs  of 
Christ  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane,  and  on  the  cross.  The  narrative  is 
simple  and  unaffected,  as  if  written  by  a  child.  There  is  no  mere  rhet- 
oric. There  is  not  a  word  of  astonishment ;  there  is  not  an  attempt  to 
excite  the  passion*  or  to  picture  the  scene.  The  circumstances  of  the 
narrative  are  so  accurate  and  so  minute  that  it  seems  almost  as  if  there 
were  au  effort  to  give  a  mere  dry  detail,  and  as  if  the  writers  meant,  to 


264  AIBERT    BARNES. 

anticipate  every  objection,  and  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  a  suspicion 
that  the  account  was  forged,  and  yet  the  whole  account  seems  just  as  if 
it  were  designed  to  leave  as  much  for  the  imagination  to  supply  as  pos- 
sible. Fewer  words  could  not  have  been  used  in  the  description  ;  and 
how  the  Saviour  looked ;  what  was  the  aspect  of  the  heavens  ;  what  was 
the  effect  on  the  minds  of  those  who  witnessed  these  scenes — who  is  there 
that  has  not  been  disposed  to  ask  of  some  one  who  knew  ?  The  resur- 
rection of  Jesus — the  most  solemn  and  grand  event  that  has  occurred 
in  the  world — enteiing  into  all  the  hopes  of  man,  and  shedding  new 
light  around  the  grave — how  simple  and  short  the  account,  and  what  a 
degree  of  obscurity  rests  upon  it  where  the  imngination  may  roam ! 
The  final  resurrection  of  the  just  and  unjust ;  the  bursting  of  the  graves, 
and  the  sea  giving  up  its  dead ;  a  world  on  fire,  and  all  the  dead 
mounting  up  to  meet  their  final  judge — ^how  simple  the  details  in  the 
Scriptures,  yet  what  a  field  where  the  fancy  may  range.  The  employ- 
ments of  heaven  ;  the  everlasting  joys  there ;  the  appearance  of  that 
world — how  brief  the  details  in  the  Scriptures ;  how  almost  tantalizing 
the  statements  ;  and  yet  what  a  field  of  glory  !  How  sublime  !  How 
obscure  I 

"  How  much  to  imagine — to  think  of — to  desire  ;  just  as  if  it  were 
meant  to  fill  the  mind,  and  to  win  the  heart ;  to  make  all  on  earth  apj)ear 
little  aod  mean,  and  to  make  us  pant  to  break  away  from  the  clods  that 
fetter  us,  and  to  go  and  know  what  there  is  there !  There  are,  indeed, 
great  landmarks  set  up  along  the  future.  The  mind  does  not  range  Avith- 
out  bound  or  limit.  Light  is  thrown  on  a  few  distant  objects,  and  the 
imagination  is  left  to  fill  up  all  that  is  intermediate.  We  know  we  shall 
be  holy ;  we  know  we  shall  see  the  Redeemer,  and  meet  with  the  de- 
parted pious  dead,  and  gaze  upon  the  throne,  and  drink  of  the  river  of 
life,  and  sin  and  die  no  more.  And  with  these  great  landmarks  what  a 
range  of  thought  is  there  on  which  the  mind  may  dwell !  What  a  world  ! 
Just  as  if  it  were  made  for  the  flights  of  a  pure  and  boundless  imagina- 
tion ! 

From  our  subject  we  learn, 

1.  The  importance  and  value  of  early  piety.  It  is  in  youth  that  the 
imagination  is  most  active,  and  it  is  then  that  the  most  deep  and  per- 
manent impressions  are  made  upon  the  soul  by  its  exercise.  Is'o  young 
person  can  properly  estimate  the  value  of  a  pui"e  fancy  in  regard  to  his 
future  character,  nor  of  the  influences  which  he  allows  his  mind  to  be  sub- 
ject to  at  that  period  of  life.  If  the  observation  be  correct  which  I  sug- 
gested at  the  beginning  of  this  discourse,  that  the  imagination  has  more 
to  do  in  forming  the  charactei*  than  any  other  fixculty  of  mind,  then  the 
importance  of  keeping  it  within  the  limits  of  purity,  is  at  once  apparent. 
Of  all  checks  and  i-estraints  in  regard  to  this  faculty,  none  is  so  valuable 
as  religion.  Its  objects  are  all  pure  ;  its  influences  are  all  holy  ;  its  tend- 
encies are  all  heavenly.     At  the  same  tmie,  as  we  have  seen,  its  revela 


INFLUENCE     OF    THE     GOSPEL.  265 

tions  are  just  such  as  give  the  widest  range  to  this  faculty,  aud  one 
presented  in  just  the  form  at  once  to  gratify  and  to  elevate  the  soul.  Xo 
youth  can  be  injured  by  bringing  his  mind  under  the  restraints  of  religion  ; 
there  is  no  one  wlio  is  certainly  safe  if  he  allows  the  mind  to  range  with- 
out restraint,  and  the  fancy  to  riot  uncontrolled. 

2.  This  subject  is  of  great  importance  to  the  Christian.  If  the  remark 
already  luade  more  than  once,  that  the  imagination  enters  deeply  into 
the  formation  of  character  be  true,  then  we  see  how  directly  this  bears 
on  the  subject  of  Christian  character  and  Christian  peace.  I  address, 
probably,  few,  if  any,  who  have  passed  the  season  of  quite  early  life,  who 
have  not  been  materially  and  permanently  injured  b}^  an  improj)er  indul- 
gence of  the  imagination.  In  our  anticipations  of  hapi)iness  in  this  world, 
in  the  associations  which  bind  our  thoughts  now  together ;  in  our  wishes 
and  desires,  and  in  the  ordinary  trains  of  thought  which  pass  through  the 
mind,  our  views  are  oftener  formed  under  the  guidance  of  this  faculty 
than  of  any  other.  The  iinproper  indulgence  of  this  faculty  at  some  pe- 
riod of  our  Uves,  has  left  traces  deep  and  dark  on  the  soul,  which  nothing, 
not  even  religion,  in  this  world  will  wholly  obliterate,  and  which  will 
attend  us,  though,  if  Christians,  with  diminished  weakness,  down  to  the 
grave.  We  have  been  injured,  not  by  the  decisions  and  promptings  of 
conscience  ;  not  by  the  deductions  of  reason  ;  not  by  the  exercise  of  our 
own  judgment ;  not  by  the  advice  of  pious  friends ;  but  by  the  passage  of 
the  corrupt  thought,  leaving  pollution  behind  it ;  by  unreal  views  of  what 
life  is ;  by  day-dreams  of  earthly  bliss,  and  by  allowmg  the  mind  to  roam 
unchecked  on  forbidden  pleasures.  There  our  character  has  been  in- 
jured, and  the  injury  is  so  deep  and  abidmg  that  it  goes  with  us  till  we 
are  made  pure  by  that  extraordinary  change  which  is  wholly  to  cleanse 
our  souls  when  we  die. 

3.  Finally.  Christians  may  learn  from  our  subject  what  is  needful  to 
be  done  to  stay,  as  far  as  possible,  the  evils  which  have  been  already 
caused  by  a  corrupt  imagination.  It  is  found  in  bringing  into  captivity 
every  thought  to  the  obedience  of  Christ.  It  is  not  difficult  to  apply  the 
remedy,  and  to  make  the  soul  eminently  what  it  should  be.  Christian, 
when  some  corrupt  image  presents  itself  to  the  eye  of  thy  mind,  or  comes, 
thou  knowest  not  whence,  or  how,  into  thy  heart,  think  then  of  thy  Sa- 
viour, of  Gethsemane,  of  Calvary.  When  the  world  presents  itself  ^\'ith 
delusive  attractions,  and  visions  of  happiness,  in  the  gay  circle  and 
among  the  thoughtless  and  the  vain,  begin  to  charm  thy  heart,  then 
thijik  of  brighter  scenes  in  heaven ;  of  thy  everlasting  homo ;  of  the 
crowns  of  gold  and  the  harps  of  praise,  and  the  shining  ranks  of  the 
redeemed.  Let  not  these  visions  of  earthly  bliss,  or  images  of  foi'bidden 
joys,  dwell  in  thy  mind  and  stain  the  purity  of  thy  redeemed  soul ;  but 
turn  thy  thoughts  to  thy  Saviour — to  his  holy  life,  and  his  pure  words ; 
tliink  of  that  eye,  where  purity  always  beamed,  and  of  that  heart,  where 
no  unholy  thought  found  a  home ;  think  of  the  glories  of  the  resurrection 


266  ALBERT    BARXES. 

morning,  and  of  that  world  where  no  envious  lip,  or  wanton  eye,  shall 
see  or  taste  the  bliss !  The  range  of  thy  thoughts,  like  those  of  thy  Sa- 
■viour,  is  to  be  in  a  world  of  purity.  Thou  art  to  dwell  not  amid  eaithly 
and  sensual  pleasures,  but  hei-eafter  with  the  pure  seraphs  above.  Thou 
art  to  anticipate  not  the  poor  groveling,  debasing,  transient  joys  of  this 
life ;  not  the  pleasures  sought  by  the  world  in  halls  of  splendor,  and  in 
dress,  and  song,  and  the  banquet,  but  the  joys  of  heaven.  Let  thy 
thoughts  be  there.  Let  the  images  that  float  before  thy  fancy  come 
from  that  world.  Fix  thine  eye,  radiant  with  the  anticij^ation  of  eternal 
purity,  on  the  wonders  of  that  heaven  where  are  now  the  pure  spirits, 
redeemed  from  this  lower  world;  where  are  angels  and  archangels; 
where  is  thy  Redeemer  and  thy  God.  Thus  shall  these  wild,  roving 
imaginmgs  be  checked  and  stayed  ;  and  hoj^e,  and  faith,  and  love  combine 
to  keep  steadily  before  thy  soul  the  transforming  image  of  a  holy 
heaven. 


DISCOURSE    XX. 

ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE,     D.D.,  LL.  L>. 

Tnis  distinguished  leader  among  the  Old  School  Presbyterians,  was  born  at 
Cabells-Dale,  the  homestead  of  his  father,  near  Lexington,  Kentucky,  on  the  8th 
day  of  March,  1800.  He  was  left,  by  the  death  of  his  father,  when  six  years  old, 
to  the  care  of  his  mother,  along  with  two  sisters  and  four  brothers,  all  minors. 
Only  himself,  his  venerable  mother,  and  his  brother,  Eev.  Dr.  W.  L.  Breckinridge, 
survive.  His  father  was  that  John  Breckinridge  who  was  the  leader  of  the  demo- 
cratic party  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  at  the  close  of  the  administration 
of  the  elder  Adams,  and  afterward  Attorney- General  of  the  United  States  in  Mr. 
Jefferson's  administration.  His  mother  was  Mary  Hopkins  Cabell,  daughter  of 
Colonel  Joseph  Cabell,  a  colonel  of  the  Virginia  line  of  the  Revolutionary  army.  He 
w^s  raised  in  a  family  that  had  been  Presbyterians  since  the  Reformation ;  and 
joined  that  church,  on  profession  of  his  faith,  in  Lexington,  Kentucky,  in  the  spring 
of  the  year  1829.  The  means,  if  any,  especially  blessed  to  this  end,  were  the  in- 
structions of  a  pious  schoolmaster,  in  his  very  early  years;  the  example  and  in- 
fluence of  his  first  wife ;  the  company  and  conversation  of  Christian  friends — 
especially  his  brother  John ;  and  severe  afflictions.  He  was  educated  at  the  schools 
and  academies  of  his  native  State,  until  at  the  age  of  sixteen  years ;  then  spent 
three  years  between  Princeton,  Yale,  and  Union  Colleges,  and  graduated  at  the  last 
in  1819.  He  was  ordained,  and  settled  as  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian  church 
in  Baltimore,  in  1832,  and  occupied  that  field  for  nearly  thirteen  years — leaving  it 
to  become  President  of  Jefferson  College,  Pennsylvania,  in  1845,  where  he  re- 
mained for  two  years,  being  at  the  same  time  pastor  of  the  church  in  the  village  of 
Canonsburg.  In  1847  he  left  Pennsylvania,  and  became  Superintendent  of  Public 
Instruction  for  the  State  of  Kentucky,  and,  at  the  same  time,  pastor  of  the  First 
Presbyterian  church  in  Lexington,  Kentucky.  These  situations  he  occupied  for  six 
years;  and,  in  1853,  was  elected,  by  the  General  Assembly  of  the  PresViyterian 
church  in  the  United  States,  the  first  Professor  of  Exegetic,  Didactic,  and  Polemic 
Theology,  in  the  new  Seminary  then  established  in  Danville,  Kentucky.  He  has 
held  this  situation  to  the  present  time,  with  honor  to  himself  and  the  Institution. 

Dr.  Breckinridge  was  educated  for  the  bar,  and  practiced  law  in  Kentucky — from 
1823  till  1830 — about  eight  years  ;  and  during  that  period  was  four  or  five  times  a 
member  of  the  Kentucky  Legislature,  from  his  native  county  of  Fayette.  He  has 
written  and  publislicd  quite  extensively.  During  the  years  1835 — 1843,  he  edited 
the  "  Literary  and  Religious  Magazine,"  and  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Nineteenth  Century," 
at  Baltimore.  He  published  two  volumes  of  "  Travels  in  Europe,  in  1838."  He  haa 
publ".shod  a  number  of  speeches,  letteis,  arguments,  occasional  sermons,  and  con- 


268  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

troversial  tracts  and  essays,  relating  to  all  the  great  movements  and  controversies, 
religious,  moral,  philanthropic,  literary,  scientific,  and  even  political,  of  the  last  tliirty- 
five  years.  His  writings,  if  collected,  would  probably  be  as  volaminous  as  those 
of  almost  any  American  writer ;  while  his  life  has  been  one  also  of  incessant  activity. 
He  is  said  to  have  never  taken  sufficient  interest  in  what  he  wrote,  even  to  preserve 
copies  of  his  own  publications ;  many  of  which  are  out  of  print,  and  are  often  in- 
quired for.  It  is  understood  that  the  Carters,  of  New  York,  are  about  to  bring  out 
a  large  Avork  on  theology  from  his  pen. 

Few  men  have  taken  a  Uvelier  interest  in  general  education.  The  oommon- 
school  system  of  Kentucky,  now  embracing  all  the  children  of  that  State,  is  chiefly 
the  result  of  his  labors,  and  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Danville,  Kentucky,  would 
hardly  have  existed  but  for  him.  In  the  direct  work  of  the  Christian  ministry, 
God  has,  in  a  remarkable  manner,  not  only  blessed  his  labors  in  the  particular 
churches  he  has  been  pastor  ofj  but  widely  over  several  of  the  middle  States,  where 
he  has  gone  preaching  as  a  kind  of  evangelist.  Probably  few  ministers  have 
preached  more  frequently  during  twenty-five  years.  In  the  great  disruption  of 
the  Presbyterian  church,  he  vras  very  efficient  in  extricating  the  controversy  from 
all  personal  aspects,  and  basing  it  exclusively  upon  what  were  considered  fundamen- 
tal principles.  He  was  elected  Moderator  of  the  Assembly,  in  May,  1841,  after  only 
eight  and  a  half  years'  service  in  the  ministry.  •• 

In  the  question  of  the  black  race  which  has  so  deeply  agitated  this  country,  Dr. 
Breckinridge  has  taken  an  active  and  decided  course.  He  has  been  the  firm  op- 
ponent of  extreme  opinions  on  either  side,  and  has  striven  for  the  amelioration  of 
the  condition  of  the  colored  people,  both  bond  and  free,  both  in  America  and  Africa, 
both  by  public  sentiment  and  by  the  civil  power.  At  a  particular  crisis  in  Mai yland, 
so  great  were  his  services  to  the  free  blacks,  that  more  than  a  thousand  of  them 
united  in  publicly  presenting  him  with  a  valuable  piece  of  gold  plate.  In  the  various 
controversies  with  Roman  Catholics,  Universalists,  and  Semi-Pelagians,  in  which  he 
has  seen  fit  to  engage,  he  has  been  a  firm  defender  of  the  faith ;  and,  what  is  re- 
markable, he  has  uniformly  and  positively  refused,  at  all  times,  to  enter  into  any  con- 
troversy with  an  evangelical  sect,  under  any  provocation — always  saying  they  were 
nis  brethren  in  Christ.  On  no  subject,  perhaps,  has  he  labored  more  earnestly 
than  the  great  temperance  reform  from  the  origin  of  that  effort  in  America  more 
than  thirty  years  since. 

Dr.  Breckinridge  is  a  strong  thinker,  and  a  powerful  writer.  Pew  men  Avield  a 
more  vigorous  pen.  He  always  speaks  and  writes  with  a  purpose  ;  and  having  set 
before  his  mind  a  point  to  be  gained,  he  presses  toward  that  point  with  a  force 
that  tarries  not  and  can  not  be  repelled.  His  preaching  i?  almost  always  extem- 
poraneous, or  unwritten,  and  he  rivets  the  attention  of  both  the  learned  and  ilUt- 
erate.  His  style  is  remarkably  simple,  nervous,  and  direct.  No  one  is  in  doubt  as 
to  what  is  intended  by  the  speaker,  nor  need  any  one  fail  of  bearing  away  a  deeply- 
lormed  impression. 

The  sermon  kindly  forwarded  for  this  work,  is  the  substance  of  a  discourse 
preached  by  the  appointment  of  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  in  the  United  States  of  America,  at  their  Annual  Meeting  in  tlie  city  of 
Nashville,  Tennessee,  in  May,  1856,  and  was  first  pubhshed  under  their  order  by 
their  Board  of  Domestic  Missions. 


FIDELITY     IN     OUR     LOT.  269 

FIDELITY    IN    OUR    LOT. 

""Who  knoweth  whetlier  thcu  art  come  to  Jie  kingdom  for  such  a  time  as  this?" 

ESTUER,  iv.  1-4. 

1.  Fathers  and  brethren  cf  the  Genei-al  Assembly,  it  is  by  the  ap- 
pointment of  your  predecessors  in  the  higli  trust  now  discharged  by 
you,  that  1  stand  here  to  discuss  a  subject  and  to  advocate  a  cause, 
which  it  is  the  constant  habit  of  this  venerable  court  to  distinguish  from 
all  others,  by  causing  it  to  be  formally  plead,  in  some  one  of  its  great 
aspects,  eveiy  year  at  its  bar.  It  would  ill  become  me,  therefore, 
whether  I  consider  what  the  occasion  demands,  or  what  my  own  past 
life  requires,  that  I  should  fail  to  speak,  with  all  freedom  and  earnest- 
ness, concerning  the  duty  of  such  a  church  as  ours,  in  such  a  day  as 
this,  npon  such  a  subject  as  that  which  lies  before  us. 

The  words  which  indicate  of  themselves  the  tenor  of  my  thoughts, 
remarkable  as  they  would  be  in  every  case  in  which  one  human  being 
could  properly  apj)ly  them  to  another,  become  doubly  so,  when  we 
consider  the  persons  and  the  circumstances  of  that  first  utterance  of 
them,  which,  through  divine  inspiration,  has  been  preserved  for  the  in 
struction  of  all  succeeding  generations. 

There  was  a  certain  Jew  whose  name  was  3Iordecai,  of  the  tiibe  of 
Benjamin,  who  had  been  swept  away  along  with  that  great  captivity 
which  Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  had  carried  off  from  Jerusa- 
lem Avitli  Jeconiah,  king  of  Judah.  An  obscure  dweller  at  Shushan,  the 
royal  residence,  this  heroic  and  uncomplaining  sufferer  for  the  sins  of  his 
people,  loved  the  Lord  none  the  less  because  his  hand  was  very  heavy 
upoji  him,  and  loved  his  down-trodden  brethren  only  the  moi-e  for  their 
peril  and  their  woe.  Little  did  he  know  that  his  part  in  the  captivity 
of  Israel,  was  that  Israel  might  not  perish.  Little  did  he  wot  of  the 
means  whereby  the  fearful  danger  and  the  wondrous  deliverance  should, 
both  alike,  find  their  immediate  origin  in  his  own  sublime  courage  and 
unshaken  fidelity  to  God. 

A  captive  maiden,  of  his  own  lineage,  doubly  an  orphan,  had  been 
brought  up  by  him  as  his  own  child,  though  he  was  childless  himself. 
By  one  of  those  strange  turns  of  fortune,  which  so  often  startle  us  in  the 
history  of  oriental  nations,  this  Jewish  maiden  suddenly  became  the 
Queen  of  the  East,  the  bride  of  Ahasuerus,  one  of  the  greatest  of  the 
successors  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  and  the  ruler  over  a  hundred  and  seven- 
and-twenty  provinces,  stretching  from  India  to  Ethio])ia.  And  what  is 
moi-c,  she  rose,  in  the  most  extraordinary  manner,  to  this  summit  of  human 
power,  at  the  very  moment  when  her  influence  over  Ahasuerus,  and  the 
influence  of  Mordecai  over  her,  seemed  absolutely  indispensable  to  pre- 
serve the  captive  people  of  God  from  utter  extermination. 

It  is  the  object  of  the  Book  of  Esther  to  record,  for  everlasting  in 


270  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

stniction,  that  great  clanger  and  deliverance  of  Israel ;  to  illustrate  at 
once  the  nature  and  the  action  of  divine  providence  and  of  sublime 
taith,  under  circumstances  the  most  remarkable.  The  words  from  which 
I  speak  form  a  part  of  the  final  and  successful  appeal  of  Mordecai  to 
Esther,  upon  which  she  risked  her  crown  and  life  to  save  her  people — 
and  won  the  fearful  hazard.  And  surely  it  was  a  wondrous  thing,  for  a 
captive  girl  to  save  a  great  people  by  her  heroic  piety  and  her  devoted 
love! 

II.  The  use  I  am  about  to  make  of  these  pregnant  words,  is  to  apply 
them  to  the  kingdom  of  God  in  this  world,  and  to  our  duty  with  regard 
to  it ;  our  duty  to  it,  considered,  both  as  we  are  individual  persons  and 
as  we  are  united  into  a  Christian  commonwealth,  constituting  one  most 
important  part  of  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  our  duty  to  it,  as  that  is  modi- 
fied by  the  pecuhar  times  in  which  we  have  come  to  it,  and  been  called 
of  God  to  act  our  part  concerning  it. 

Thus  considered,  the  case  of  this  Jewish  maiden  involves  and  illus- 
trates many  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  God's  providence  and  our 
duty  ;  which,  though  they  are  presented  to  us  in  a  concrete  form,  and 
under  a  special  aspect,  are,  nevertheless,  in  their  own  nature,  universal 
and  invariable.     The  chief  of  these  I  will  first  briefly  state  and  enforce. 

1.  All  the  duties  of  which  I  have  to  speak  at  present,  are  such  as  have 
their  origin  in  our  immediate  relation  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  to  hia 
kingdom.  Except  that  Esther  was  a  queen,  and  except  that  she  was  a 
Jewess,  no  obligation  rested  on  her  to  attempt  any  thing  that  is  related 
of  her.  As  she  was  both,  the  obligation  was  complete.  Precisely  in 
the  same  manner,  the  things  which  you  have  made  it  my  duty  to  press 
upon  you,  are  things  binding  upon  your  souls,  because  you  are  Christ's 
children,  jjlaced  by  Christ  precisely  as  you  are.  I  have  no  plea 
founded  on  philosophy,  or  on  any  wisdom  of  man,  or  on  any  worldly 
consideration,  to  oifer  you  at  all.  I  addi-ess  myself  exclusively  to  y6ur 
faith  in  thfe  Redeemer.  You  have  come  to  this  kingdom,  for  such  a 
time  as  this.  This  is  the  foundation  of  all  I  have  to  utter.  On  this 
ground  you  are  to  execute  the  will  of  God,  if  it  were  to  cost  yon  a 
crown  and  your  life.  And  he  who  the  most  frankly  risks  all,  is  the  most 
certain  to  win  all. 

2.  The  circumstances  of  our  lot — the  times  in  which  we  come  to  the 
kingdom — determine,  with  controlling  force,  the  peculiar  duty  of  the  • 
whole  church,  and  that  of  every  individual  member  of  it.  Every  child 
of  God  will  have  a  crown  ;  but  every  one  a  crown  peculiar  to  himself — 
a  crown  which  will  illustrate  all  that  grace  has  done  specifically  for  us, 
and  which  God  forbids  us  to  allow  any  man  to  take  from  us.  The  Avhole 
truth  of  God,  the  divine  rules  of  his  providence,  and  the  unchangeable 
l)rinciples  of  our  duty,  are  all  invariable  and  eternal.  Nevertheless,  the 
'•ircumstauccs  upon  which  and  amid  which  they  all  expatiate,  arc  infi 


FIDELITY     IN     OUR    LOT.  271 

nitely  various — all  urging  us  with  forces  at  once  unspeakably  encroetic 
and  diversified.  Such  a  case  as  Esther's  occurred  but  that  single  time 
,on  earth.  Yet  innumerable  cases,  not  one  of  which  is  identical  with  it, 
but  all  of  which  are  settled  by  its  princij)]es,  occur  every  day,  and  Avill 
occur  forever.  God  ncA^er  repeats  any  thing.  If  we  could  behold  the 
entire  universe  at  a  glance,  we  should  behold  a  picture  of  all  things 
which  had  never  been  seen  before — a«concatenation  which  would  never 
be  seen  again  throughout  eternity.  Yet  the  universe  is  the  same  uni- 
veise,  and  all  its  parts  and  i)rinciples  remain  the  same.  So  that  the 
clearest  and  highest  generalization  we  can  reach,  is  eternal  change 
founded  on  eternal  unity ;  laws  which  can  not  change,  regulating  with 
infinite  exactitude  duties  which  are  susceptible  of  boundless  modifica- 
tion. 

3.  There  may  be  always,  and  ordinarily  there  is,  more  or  less  obscurity 
cast  over  the  peculiar  duty,  whether  of  the  church  or  of  individual 
Christians,  under  the  ever  varying  aspects  of  events  as  they  pass  over 
us,  and  our  attempts  to  api)ly  to  them  the  eternal  principles  and  truths 
which  underlie  them  all.  "  Who  knoweth,"  was  the  solemn  peradven- 
ture  of  Mordecai,  which  adjourned  over  into  the  counsel  of  God  the 
whole  cause  and  end  of  the  strange  glory  and  peril  Avhich  had  fallen 
upon  Esther.  Out  of  this  state  of  case  arises  the  incessant  hazard  of 
our  Christian  warfare ;  the  ceaseless  danger  that  environs  the  church  of 
God;  the  perpetual  necessity  for  divine  illumination  to  direct  us,  and 
divine  strength  to  support  us.  The  more  difticult  the  times  may  be,  and 
the  greater  the  peril,  the  greater  also  may  the  obscurity  be  expected  to 
be,  and  by  consequence  the  greater  the  need  of  divine  guidance  and  sup- 
l)oit.  It  is  only  by  iaith  that  the  church  of  God  can  walk,  even  in  light ; 
only  by  faith  that  she  can  even  live  in  darkness. 

4.  Perfect  fidelity  in  our  lot  is  the  only  ground  upon  which  we  have 
any  light  to  expect  either  security  or  success,  or  to  rely  on  the  divine 
protection  ;  and  perfect  consecration  of  herself  to  her  great  mission,  is 
the  universal  condition  on  which  God  teaches  his  church  to  rely  on  him 
for  every  deliverance,  and  for  all  ability  to  advance  his  glory  in  the 
earth.  And  this  spirit  is  to  be  maintained  when  it  exists,  and  recovered 
A\lien  it  is  lost,  only  by  living  near  to  God,  in  the  way  of  his  owm  ap- 
pointment. "  Gather  together  all  the  Jews  that  are  i)resent  in  Shushan, 
and  fast  ye  for  me."  "  I  also  and  my  maidens  will  fast  likewise."  "  If  I 
perish,  I  perish."  In  such  words  did  that  soul  unburden  itself,  upon 
whose  struggles  the  fate  of  Israel  seemed  to  hang.  I  low  is  it  possible 
for  the  church  to  do  any  thing  which  exceeds  her  faith  ?  Tlie  sense  of 
her  own  condition  and  necessities  is  the  very  measure  of  her  ellbrts  to 
bless  others  and  to  glorify  God.  Nor  is  there  a  more  illustrious  i)roof 
of  the  exact  connection  of  these  two  things  with  each  other,  than  that 
furnished  by  the  origin  and  pi-esent  condition  of  all  those  great  organiza- 
tions through  which  our  own  church  is  striving  to  execute  large  portions 


272  "  ROBERT    J.    BPECKINRIDGE. 

of  her  work.  Her  board  for  the  spreading  of  tlie  gospel  through  this 
vast  Land,  and  her  board  that  takes  cognizance  of  the  mighty  interest 
involved  in  raising  up  an  adequate  supply  of  faithful  ministers  ;  were 
both  resuscitated  from  a  state  of  torpor,  at  the  very  period  when  her 
first  efforts  to  purge  herself  from  inward  corruption  began  to  manifest 
that  her  own  vitality  was  being  restored ;  while  her  board  of  foreign 
missions  arose  immediately  out  of  the  first  free  eflforts  of  the  delivered 
church  ;  and  the  board  of  publication  was  the  direct  result  of  the  yearn- 
ing of  her  awakened  heai't  for  true  Christian  union  ujion  that  very 
truth  Avhich  had  saved  her,  and  which  the  second  centennial  jubilee  of 
the  creation  of  her  noble  standards  brought  immediately  before  her  at 
the  moment  of  her  final  triumph.  While  I  do  not  believe  that  any  of 
these  organizations  are  capable  of  doing  the  whole  duty  of  the  cliurch, 
in  the  glorious  departments  of  eifort  assigned  to-  them ;  yet  who  does 
not  see  that  their  success  has  corresponded  with  the  restored  vitaUty  of 
the  church,  and  that  it  must  advance  in  proportion  as  her  own  fidelity 
to  God  increases  ? 

5.  Nothing  is  more  remarkable  than  the  manner  in  which  God  raises 
up  and  qualifies  individual  persons  for  the  special  work  on  which  he  sets 
them.  The  general  tendency  of  our  fallen  race,  when  left  to  itself,  is 
rather  to  decay  than  to  advancement ;  and  every  institution  committed 
to  human  hands,  not  excepting  even  the  church  of  Christ,  is  prone  to 
exhibit  this  abiding  mark  of  our  degradation.  It  is  only  as  God  arrests 
this  downward  tendency,  that  any  thing  good  or  great  endures  on 
earth;  only  as  he  gives  special  grace,  or  exercises  special  pi'ovidence, 
that  man,  or  any  thing  intrusted  to  him,  advances  in  a  career  of  glory 
or  blessedness.  To  this  end,  what  is  specially  noteworthy  here,  is,  that 
it  is  the  Avay  of  the  Lord  to  select  his  own  instruments  after  his  OAvn 
fashion,  and  that  they  to  whom  he  sends  them,  prosper  exactly  in  pro- 
portion as  they  accept  and  cherish  them.  Moses  in  the  palace  of  the 
king  of  Egyjit,  and  David  following  his  father's  flock,  and  Saul  breathing 
out  threatening  and  slaughter,  were  all  alike  nothing,  and  could  do 
nothing,  except  as  God  made  them  what  they  became.  And  Luther 
liad  remained  in  his  besotted  superstition — a  mere  monk  ;  and  Bunyan 
had  continued  in  his  brutality — a  vagabond  ;  and  Calvin,  and  Knox,  and 
Owen,  and  Wesley,  and  Whitefield,  and  all  the  rest  whom  God  has  set 
for  any  great  thing  on  earth,  could  no  more  have  done  it  of  themselves, 
than  two  captive  Jews  in  the  capital  of  the  world  could  have  sav(jd 
God's  scattered  people  from  destruction.  The  great  lesson  is,  that  they 
mIio  reject  such  interpositions  of  God,  reject  his  eternal  counsel,  against 
tlieir  own  souls. 

6.  The  solemn  conclusion  of  this  grand  climax  of  divine  truth  is  dis- 
tinctly stated,  and  is  full  of  warning  to  us  all.  "  Think  not  within  thy- 
self," said  Mordecai,  "that  thou  shalt  escape  in  the  king's  house,  more 
than  all  the  Jews.     For  if  thou  altogether  boldest  thy  peace  at  this  time, 


FIDELITY    IN     OUR    LOT.  273 

then  shall  there  enlargement  and  deliverance  arise  to  the  Jews  from 
another  place  ;  but  thou  and  thy  father's  house  shall  be  destroyed." 
The  peril  from  which  we  shi'ink  may  indeed  be  avoided  ;  but  in  the 
place  of  it  shall  come  irretrievable  destruction.  The  glory  and  the 
blessedness  set  before  us,  and  despised  by  us,  are  indeed  lost  to  us  for- 
ever ;  but  in  our  stead  will  God  raise  up  from  some  other  quarter  more 
faithful  men,  and  a  more  devoted  church,  whereby  the  intended  glory 
and  blessedness  shall  have  free  scope,  to  the  praise  of  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  his  grace.  And  it  behooves  us  deeply  to  comprehend,  that 
when  the  day  of  our  visitation  is  once  effectually  hidden  from  our  eyes, 
it  returns  to  us  no  more.  It  was  for  such  a  time  that  we  came  to  the 
kingdom  ;  but  we  altogether  held  our  peace  ;  and  so  we  and  our  father's 
house  were  destroyed.  The  eternal  wheel  of  Providence  has  crushed 
us.  The  eternal  necessities  could  not  wait  on  our  loitering.  The 
eternal  light  has  passed  far  beyond  us,  in  its  infinite  cai-eer.  When  we 
awake  from  our  stupor,  it  will  only  be  to  see  our  crown  shining  upon 
some  woi'thier  brow.  Where  are  the  graves  of  Israel  for  neaily  two 
thousand  years  ?  Where  are  all  the  churches  jjlanted  by  the  immediate 
labois  of  the  apostles  ?  Where  are  the  churches  which  have  arisen  in 
all  succeeding  ages,  but  which  have  forgotten  God,  and  betrayed  the 
time  for  which  they  were  called  to  the  kingdom  ?  And  where  shall  our 
own  beloved  Church  find  refuge,  except  in  victory?  AVhere  deliver- 
ance, except  around  the  cross  of  Christ  ? 

III.  Let  us  turn  our  thoughts,  now,  in  another  direction,  in  order 
that  we  may  see  as  clearly  as  we  can,  wdiat  is  the  posture  of  God's 
providence  and  our  duty,  as  both  are  manifested  in  the  aspect  of  the 
time  in  which  we  have  come  to  the  kingdom ;  striving  to  apply  the 
divine  principles  I  have  stated,  to  the  stupendous  facts  amid  which  our 
career  is  to  be  run. 

The  posture  of  this  earth  and  all  its  interests — this  earth,  which  is  the 
theater  on  Avhich  the  khigdom  of  God  commences  its  development — 
may  be  expressed  in  a  single  sentence.  Every  thing  lies  under  the  curse 
of  God;  but  every  thing,  except  hell  and  its  final  inmates,  underlies  that 
curse  with  a  promise  of  deliverance.  These  two  truths  explain  the 
whole  career  of  the  universe  known  to  us.  The  entire  development  of 
the  kingdom  of  God  thus  far,  and  the  entire  progress  of  the  human  race 
until  now,  make  manifest  the  struggle,  and  the  success  yet  attained,  as 
the  universe  emerges  from  its  condition  imder  God's  curse,  upward 
toward  the  full  fruition  of  the  promised  deliverance. 

And  now,  after  so  many  centuries,  and  so  many  efforts,  and  so  many 
vicissitudes,  and  so  many  dispensations — what  is  the  sum  of  the  whole 
progress  ?  What  is  the  actual  posture  of  the  struggle  ?  Is  the  conflict 
near  to  any  definite  result  ?  Docs  the  church  seem  to  be  any  nearer  to 
the  conquest  of  the  whole  earth,  than  she  seemed  to  be  at  many  former 

18 


274  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

ejwchs,  nay,  than  she  seemed  to  be  when  the  apostles  of  tlie  Lord  had 
completed  their  personal  work  ?  On  the  other  hand,  does  she  seem  to 
be  any  more  inclined  to  give  up  the  contest  as  hopeless,  than  she 
seemed  to  be  at  the  most  exalted  point  in  her  career  ?  Alas !  it  is  true 
that  only  the  edges  of  the  gross  darkness  that  covers  the  earth,  have  as 
yet  been  illuminated  by  the  truth.  But  still  the  torch  is  lifted  up  upon 
the  mountains,  and  its  beams  glance  from  land  to  land.  Alas!  it  is  true 
that  the  kingdom  of  God  is  wasted,  and  scattered,  and  rent,  up  and 
down  in  the  earth ;  or  rather,  it  floats  like  a  great  wreck  tossed  on  the 
boundless  sea  of  time,  as  it  surges  to  and  fro  over  the  nations.  But 
still  there  floats  above  it  the  banner  stained  with  blood.  And  not  one 
faithful  soldier  in  all  her  broken  host  has  any  other  thought  than  that 
this  rebellious  world  is  to  be  subdued  once  more. 

The  present  population  of  the  earth  may  be  about  one  thousand  mil- 
lions of  souls.  Of  these  it  is  probable  that  more  than  one  half  are  still 
heathen  idolaters — the  great  part  of  them  devoted  to  superstitions  more 
gross  and  absurd  than  those  which  covered  the  earth  at  the  advent  of 
the  Saviour.  Of  the  remainder,  one  hundred  millions,  perhaps,  are  Mo- 
hammedans ;  a  like  number,  it  may  be,  are  Jews,  infidels,  and  various 
sectaries  in  various  lands,  who  can  not  be  classed  either  as  mere  pagan 
idolaters,  as  Mohammedans,  or  as  even  nominally  Christians.  Three 
hundred  millions — less,  considerably,  than  one  third  part  of  the  family 
of  man,  are  the  utmost  that  can  be  considered  as  even  speculative  be- 
lievers in  the  Son  of  God.  Of  these  less  than  one  third,  less,  that  is, 
than  one  tenth  part  of  the  human  race  are  Protestants,  even  in  the 
widest  acceptation  of  that  appellation.  Upon  this  mournful  classifica- 
tion it  is  to  be  observed,  that  not  a  solitary  circumstance  is  known  to 
exist  which  renders  the  hearts  of  the  enemies  of  God  more  open  to  the  im- 
pressions of  divine  truth,  or  less  set  upon  the  refuges  of  lies  on  which  they 
rely  for  salvation,  than  they  were  when  the  Saviour  of  sinners  appeared 
in  the  flesh.  And  although  it  is  true  that  the  nominally  Christian  pop- 
ulation of  the  world,  takeii  as  a  whole,  are  very  far  in  advance  of  the  rest 
of  mankind ;  yet  that  was,  probably,  equally  true  fifteen  centuries  ago, 
when  the  Christian  religion  became  the  religion  of  the  Roman  empire, 
and  so  almost  of  the  civilized  world,  under  Constantine  the  Great.  Nor 
is  it  easy  to  perceive,  that  with  all  the  immense  progress  of  mankind 
during  the  last  eighteen  centuries,  they  who  would  propagate  true 
Christianity  to-day,  have  any  facilities  above  those  who  would  oppose 
it ;  which,  relatively  to  the  state  of  the  world  during  the  first  ages  of 
the  Christian  church,  were  not  possessed  in  an  equal  degree  by  the 
early  followers  of  the  Lord,  as  compared  with  his  early  oi^poncnts.  Je- 
rusalem, and  Rome,  and  Mecca,,  and  whatever  else  is  an  emblem  of  hos- 
tility to  Christ,  or  a  power  of  itself  hostile  to  Christ,  stand  where  they 
have  stood  always ;  and  the  sum  of  the  combined  force  distinctly  ex- 
hibited throughout  the  world,  against  the  Lord  and  against  his  anointed, 


FIDELITY    IN     OUR    LOT.  275 

19  comparatively  scarcely  less  vast  or  relentless  than  at  any  one  of  the 
grand  epochs  of  the  past.  We  gain  nothing  by  deceiving  ourselves,  or 
niislcading  the  people  of  God.  Let  the  true  soldier  of  the  cross  know, 
that  victories  are  yet  to  come  greater  than  all  they  have  hitherto  Avon. 

The  idea  which  avc  obtain  of  the  existing  condition  of  the  popula- 
tions and  the  i-eligions  of  the  world,  must,  for  the  special  purpose  of  the 
i:)resent  discourse,  have  a  particular  application  to  our  own  country ; 
and  then  a  further  one  to  the  question  of  Evangelization  in  it,  by  our 
own  branch  of  the  church  of  Christ,  in  its  immediate  eiforts  to  extend 
itself,  according  to  the  measure  of  the  grace  given  to  it,  throughout  this 
continent.  Considering  the  whole  subject  in  this  light,  it  must  be  ad- 
mitted that  the  general  posture  of  the  cause  of  Christ  is  better  in  the 
United  States  than  in  most  parts  of  the  Chiistian  world  ;  better,  in  some 
important  respects,  than  in  any  other  portion  of  the  earth.  And  it 
Avould  be  full  of  interest,  and  not  difficult  in  itself,  to  point  out  the  par- 
ticular causes  which  have  produced  these  important  results,  and  to 
designate  with  clearness  the  results  themselves.  At  present  it  is  enough 
to  say,  that  as  for  us  and  our  Presbyterian  church  in  this  great  country, 
\\2  have  come  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  are  set  to  the  A^'ork  of  evan- 
gelization all  around  us,  under  circumstances  marked  neither  by  ex- 
traordhiary  danger,  nor  hardship,  nor  seltklenial ;  but  rather  demanding 
of  us  extraordinary  efforts  and  peculiar  simplicity  of  faith.  What  we 
need  is  not  so  much  heroic  courage  as  fervent  zeal. 

But  even  here  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that  the  condition  of  the  king- 
dom of  God  is  sufficiently  deplorable  to  fill  every  pious  heart  with 
anguish,  as  often  as  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  fully  impressed  with  what 
is  passing  around  us.  Among  those  who  profess  to  be  the  disciples  of 
Christ,  Avhat  multitudes  are  only  the  more  thoroughly  separated  from 
God  thereby!  Pelagians,  Arians,  Unitarians,  Universalists,  Papists, 
Mormons  :  what  true  child  of  God  can  doubt,  that  the  faith  of  all  such 
sectaries  is  utterly  destructive  of  the  souls  of  men?  AVhat  multitudes, 
again,  of  those  who  in  the  judgment  of  that  charity  which  hopeth  all 
thhigs,  might  be  allowed  for  the  substance  of  their  professed  faith  to  be 
in  the  way  of  life,  are  yet  given  up  to  the  eager  pursuit  of  the  merest 
sectarian  trifles,  or  to  the  wildest  devotion  to  the  absurd  traditions  of 
men !  Sects  too,  numerous  and  poAverful,  obscuring  the  truth  which 
their  own  creeds  tea.ch,  or  betraying  it  in  the  piu'suit  of  some  barren 
rite  or  empty  ceremony — or  sacrificing  it  to  the  demands  of  some  heart- 
less philosophy !  How  large  a  part  of  the  Episcopal  church  has  fallen 
away  from  its  own  evangelical  articles:  how  strong  and  persistent  is  the 
tendency  in  the  Congregational  churches  to  forsake  the  precious  faith 
of  their  ancestors  :  how- deplorable  are  the  errors  which  disfigure  the 
German  churches  in  this  country  :  how  sad  is  the  decay  in  a  pure  faith 
which  for  a  whole  generation  has  marked  the  prog'-ess  of  so  large  a  por- 
tion of  the  Baptist  churches  :  and,  to  mention  no  more,  how  fearful  was 


276  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

the  heresy  and  schism  which  we  ourselves  endured  within  the  recent 
memory  of  us  all !  It  is  with  profound  sorrow  that  I  uttar  all  ihesu 
mournful  ficts  ;  but  how  could  I  avoid  it,  and  speak  the  truth  ?  Nay, 
am  I  not  obliged,  as  I  will  answer  to  God,  to  go  further  stiil,  and  con- 
fess that  even  in  the  bosom  of  every  evangelical  denomination,  those  are 
to  be  found  who  have  no  part  in  Christ  ?  Hypocrites,  heretics,  formal- 
ists, alas !  too,  self  seeking  and  unconverted  ministers  !  That  small  part 
of  the  human  race,  even  in  this  most  favored  land,  which  names  itself 
after  Him  who  was  dead  and  is  alive,  presents  itself  even  to  the  imper- 
fect view  of  man  in  such  a  light  as  this.  How  must  it  appear  before  the 
face  of  God ! 

If  such  be  the  aspect  which  the  land  presents  viewed  only  as  it  calls 
itself  Christian,  and  estimated  only  with  a  strong  desire  to  do  it  good ; 
what  shall  be  thought  of  that  enormous  and  perishing  mass  of  souls 
which  lies  beyond  the  pale  of  ah  true  communion  with  Chiist,  and  whose 
evangelization,  whether  they  have  a  name  to  live  or  whether  they  truly 
confess  themselves  to  be  without  hope  in  the  world,  is  the  immediate 
object  of  all  our  missionary  efforts  on  this  continent?  A  vast  popula- 
tion, mixed,  heterogeneous,  gathered  from  all  lands;  restless,  eager, 
ardent,  reckless,  irresistible  ;  free  and  rejoicing  in  its  freedom,  yet  side 
by  side  with  millions  of  slaves,  and  with  the  remnants  of  the  primeval 
people  of  the  land;  full  of  the  instinct  of  a  glorious  destiny  already  at- 
tained and  one  still  more  glorious  to  come ;  ignorant  of  nothing  but 
God ;  capable  of  all  things  except  its  own  salvation  ;  millions  of  men, 
multiplying  with  a  rapidity  never  before  known  on  earth  ;  occupying 
an  empire  the  widest  and  noblest  ever  embraced  under  the  dominion  of 
regulated  liberty  and  equal  laws ;  advancing  in  a  career  of  civilization, 
wealth,  power,  and  grandeur,  hitherto  without  a  parallel ;  the  earth 
never  witnessed  before — and  can  never  witness  again — such  a  people, 
upon  such  a  theater,  passing  through  such  a  development.  Alas  !  Avnat 
power  but  that  of  God  is  competent  to  struggle  with  a  force  like  this  ? 

All  the  immense  problems  on  whose  solution  the  destiny  of  man  do 
pends — and  chief  among  these,  the  nature,  the  position,  and  the  efficac} 
of  all  religious  institutions — are  presented  among  us  in  alight  altogether 
smgular.  Here,  for  the  first  time,  religion  is  absolutely  free ;  and  hav 
ing  been  corrupted  everywhere  else  by  its  union  with  the  civil  power,  or 
pressed  everywhere  else  under  the  ii'on  hand  of  persecution,  its  sub- 
lime mission  among  us  is  to  make  manifest  its  capacity  to  be  at  once  free 
and  efficacious  in  the  bosom  of  a  people  at  once  great  and  free.  More- 
over, the  people  among  whom  this  vast  experiment  is  to  have  free  scope, 
differ  most  remarkably  from  all  others  precisely  in  those  respects  in 
which  religion  might  be  supposed  most  capable  of  being  afiected  for 
good  or  ill,  by  other  absorbing  interests  of  man.  Here  there  is  cast  loose 
upon  society — wholly  disconnected  with  religion,  and,  therefore,  avail- 
able against  it  as  well  as  for  it — a  larger  proportion  of  educated  intellect 


ITIDELITT    IN     OUR    LOT.  277 

has  never  before  existed  in  any  community;  a  greater  mass  >vLicli  must 
needs  bo  influenced,  and,  when  influenced  either  way,  correspondingly 
powerfid  ;  a  mass  stimulated  throughout  every  portion  of  it  to  a  degree 
never  witnessed  before  iu  any  age  of  the  world.  Can  the  religion  of 
Christ  establish  its  dominion,  by  its  own  power,  over  such  hearts  ?  Can 
it  maintain  supreme  sway  over  such  minds  by  its  own  simple  and  divine 
force?  It  is  a  singular  proof  of  its  Avonderful  hold  upon  the  human 
soul,  that,  so  tar  from  being  shaken  loose,  it  has  constantly  augmented  its 
influence  throughout  the  terrific  agitations  of  the  human  race  during  the 
whole  career  of  our  country.  It  has  survived  the  midnight  of  the 
world;  and  its  last  oflice  is  to  preside  over  the  noon  of  human  grandeur. 
Let  us  do  our  part  toward  the  accomplishment  of  this  sublime  destiny. 

The  great  truths  of  every  system  must  struggle  to  the  light,  as  soon 
as  it  is  put  into  intense  activity,  no  matter  how  much  darkness  may 
have  been  cast  over  them.  In  the  widest  range  of  religious  ideas,  how 
immeasurably  do  ages  and  sects  difter,  who  agree  nevertheless  in  the 
fundamental  truth  of  all  religion,  namely,  the  unity  of  the  Godhead,  and 
his  exclusive  worship ;  and  they  also  who  reject  this  chief  truth,  though 
they  agree  in  nothing  else  but  this  rejection,  how  constantly  have  they 
been  one  in  the  abjectness  of  their  superstition  !  And  iu  a  far  narrower, 
but  hardly  less  important  field,  they  who  hold  what  are  called  the  doo- 
trines  of  grctce^  though  they  difler  in  many  things,  and  may  be  often 
sundere-d  by  sharp  contentions,  yet  how  thoroughly  are  they  agreed  in 
that  Evangelical  System  which  gives  vitality  to  all  Christian  ettbrt,  and 
lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  human  hope  !  To  restore  to  their  very  high- 
esic  activity,  the  simplest  and  deepest  truths  of  the  religion  of  God,  is  to 
restore  in  Uke  degree  the  highest  unity  to  the  rent  church  of  Christ,  and 
to  extend  in  like  manner  the  triumphs  of  that  evangelical  Christianity 
which  from  the  days  of  the  reformers  to  our  own,  has  stimulated  the 
whole  progress  which  mankind  has  made,  and  sustained  whatever  free- 
dom the  world  possesses.  This,  too,  is  the  most  direct  method  by  which 
we  may  sunder  the  unnatural  connection  between  the  i:)roraoters  of  all 
false  religion  and  the  true  friends  of  human  advancement ;  an  alliance 
pregnant  alike  with  injustice  to  godliness  and  wrong  to  every  interest  of 
man.  All  that  is  most  excellent  in  knowledge,  most  virtuous  in  pi-actical 
life,  most  heroic  in  great  deeds  and  under  great  trials,  most  faithful  to 
man,  and  most  fruitful  in  all  that  can  do  man  good,  is  written  in  the 
history  of  evangelical  Christianity.  Our  country  is  at  this  moment  un- 
derlying a  trial  most  signal  and  before  unknown  in  a  Avell-orderod  state 
— the  wide  union  of  religious  fanaticism  and  civil  licentiousness ;  and  it 
behooves  those  to  whom  God  has  committed  the  great  remedy  for  so 
great  a  pest  to  bestir  themselves  in  a  degree  commensurate  with  an  evil 
which  tends  to  nothing  short  of  the  utter  degradation  of  religion,  and 
the  total  subversion  of  society. 

Among  all  the  branches  of  the  great  Christian  family,  not  one  has  a 


278  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

history  more  remarkable,  a  position  more  distinct,  or  a  call  more  explicit 
to  fight  tliis  great  battle  for  the  Lord  of  hosts,  than  that  great  but 
divided  family  of  churches,  in  all  lands,  which  sets  forth  its  faith  in  the 
standards  of  the  Westminster  Assembly.  The  English  Commonwealth 
was  the  real  birth-place  of  modern  liberty.  It  was  also  the  best  i-epre 
sentative  of  the  Protestant  freedom  and  power  of  the  earth,  in  that  age 
of  fearful  trial  and  danger.  What  is  Protestant  Christiantity  ? — was  the 
demand  of  the  heroic  defenders  of  Protestant  freedom.  They  put  that 
question,  not  to  one  or  two  sects,  but  they  put  it  to  the  Protestant  world 
after  a  century  and  a  half  of  Protestant  etibrt  and  Protestant  suffering 
throughout  Europe.  The  answer  is  found  in  the  standards  of  the  West- 
minster Assembly  ;  standards  which  deserve  to  be,  and  will  contmue  to 
be,  as  they  have  been  for  two  centuries,  not  the  narrow  creed  of  a  sect, 
but  the  bulwark  of  evangelical  Christianity.  They  constitute  the  solemn 
and  well-considered  response  of  the  learning,  thought,  and  piety  of  the 
Protestant  world,  to  the  demand  for  a  true  exposition  of  Protestant  be- 
lief, by  the  embodied  heart  of  Protestant  civilization  and  liberty.  Pro- 
testant Christianity — is  the  explicit  answer — ^is  a  spiritual  commonwealth 
of  which  Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  head,  whose  laws  are  only  such  as  God 
has  given  to  it,  whose  faith  is  evangelical,  whose  morality  is  exact,  and 
whose  order  is  free.  As  for  Antichrist,  against  whom  every  child  of  God 
had  striven  more  than  a  thousand  years,  and  against  whom  every  one 
strives  still  as  against  the  peculiar  enemy  of  God  and  the  great  corrupter 
of  the  church ;  these  standards  were  in  one  aspect  especially  directed 
against  him,  as  in  their  nature  they  could  not  tail  to  be.  Many  of  the 
chief  errors  of  Popery  are,  no  doubt,  peculiar  to  itself;  but  many  others 
are  common  to  it  and  other  forms  of  sujjerstition,  heresy,  and  idolatiy. 
Some  it  holds  in  common  with  every  form  of  heathenism ;  as  the  plural- 
ity of  objects  of  divine  worship.  Some  in  common  with  the  Mohamme- 
dan imposture ;  as  the  propagation  of  its  faith  by  fire  and  sword.  Some 
in  common  with  the  lowest  apostates  from  Christianity  ;  as  the  denial  of 
the  sufficiency  of  the  divine  word,  and  the  rejection  of  the  doctrine  and 
the  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  But  the  grand  and  all-pervading  spiritual 
error  of  Popery  in  the  plan  she  puts  forth  for  the  salvation  of  men,  lies 
precisely  at  the  foundation  of  every  false  system  that  ever  existed,  and 
is  exactly  the  great  error  against  which  our  standards  direct  their  utmost 
strength.  The  doctrine  of  God  is  that  man  is  indebted  for  salvation 
merely  to  divine  grace,  anJ^  that  faith  in  the  crucified  Saviour  is  the  sole 
method  of  access  to  God.  The  universal  doctrine  of  error  is  that  man 
can  do  and  must  do  something,  more  or  less,  which,  as  merit,  condition, 
or  occasion,  shall  secure  his  salvation.  Here  the  systems  of  God  and 
man  part,  and  they  meet  no  more.  The  great  controversies  of  all  agea 
have  turned  directly  on  this  distinction,  or  looked  remotely  but  decisively 
to  it.  In  settling  it  we  implicitly  settle  all.  And  he  who  wUl  carefully 
examine  the  subject  with  sufficient  light  to  guide  his  steps,  and  enougt 


FIDELITY    IN    OUR    LOT.  .  279 

of  intellect  to  fathom  its  realities,  must  end  his' search  with  the  deep 
conviction  that  evangelical  religion  afibrds  tlie  only  refuge  from  atheism 
on  one  side,  or  sui)ei-stition  on  the  other.  Wandering  iVom  the  simplic- 
ity of  the  gospel,  there  is  no  resting-jilace  for  man  hut  in  universal  cre- 
dulity, or  total  unbelief.  In  the  face  of  such  things,  and  in  a  time  like 
this,  how  immense  is  the  obligation  resting  on  us,  who  constitute  the 
largest  single  portion  of  the  Presbyterian  church  on  earth,  not  merely  to 
exert  ourselves  that  men  may  not  perish,  but  to  exalt  the  great  salvation 
wherewith  God  hath  so  remarkably  intrusted  us  !  The  temporary  con- 
troversies  of  the  sectaries  with  each  other,  the  fierce,  incoherent  warfoi-e, 
which  has  no  higher  excuse  than  the  folly  or  the  passions  of  the  combat- 
ants— these  things,  let  them  rage  as  they  may,  ai-e  nothing  to  us.  There 
are  abroad  through  the  land  rampant  heresies  which  sap  the  foundations 
of  the  Christian's  hope,  which  take  from  the  gospel  its  distinctive  char- 
acter, which  threaten  the  total. ruin  of  the  church  of  Christ.  There  is  a 
great  defection  from  the  bosom  of  Protestantism,  in  which  its  erring 
children  have  let  slip  the  fundamental  point  of  God's  method  of  saving 
sinners,  and  while  they  profess  to  abhor  the  Man  of  Sin,  are  in  reality 
unwitting  histruments  of  bis  will.  These  are  the  things  that  do  most 
vitally  concern  us ;  here  lies  the  real  conflict  of  ages.  Shall  God's  way 
prevail,  and  sinners  live  ? — or  shall  man's  way  prevail,  and  sinners 
perish  ? 

Xow  it  is  in  the  midst  of  such  a  scene  of  things,  at  such  a  time,  in 
euch  a  country,  with  such  a  population,  that  our  branch  of  the  great 
Christian  host,  such  as  she  is  this  day,  is  called  of  God  to  act  her  part  iu 
those  vast  events,  under  those  tremendous  sanctions,  and  upon  those 
eternal  principles,  which  I  have  endeavored  to  sketch,  to  distinguish,  and 
to  group  together.  Who  knoweth  whether  she  is  come  to  the  kingdom 
for  such  a  time  as  this  ?  And  what  may  one  of  her  sons,  called  to  speak 
thus  to  her  concerning  her  transcendent  duties,  venture  to  say  to  the 
common  mother  of  us  all,  by  way  of  filial  yet  faithful  exhortation  ?  This 
much,  at  least,  even  the  lowliest  of  her  children  might  attempt.  He 
might  presume  by  the  love  he  bore  her,  and  in  the  name  of  God,  to  be- 
seech her  as  she  surveys  a  conflict  so  diflicult  and  so  glorious,  to  recall 
her  own  past  career  and  past  deliverances ;  to  look  around  her  earnestly 
and  trustfully  on  the  wild  field  of  combat ;  to  look  within,  judging  her- 
self  with  an  unfaltering  eye;  to  look  before  her  and  nerve  herself  for  the 
greatness  of  the  battle  ;  and  then  looking  above,  to  throw  wide  over  her 
host  her  unconquci-ed  banner,  and  strike  for  the  Lord  of  glory  !  My 
brethren  and  my  fathers,  is  there  one  of  us  here  \vho  is  willing  that  she 
should  content  herself  Avith  feeble  effc^rts  and  poor  sacrifices  for  her  ex- 
alted Lord  ?  Is  there  one  of  us  who  holds  his  very  life  too  dear  to  peril  it 
for  her,  if  she  will  but  keep  herself  worthy  of  the  sacrifice  ?  Is  there  one 
of  us  who  would  not  weep  over  her  sloth  and  ignominy — who  would  not 
rejoice  with  exceeding  joy  at  every  proof  that  God  counted  her  worthy 


280  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

even  to  sufl'er  for  Christ's  sake — and  O  !  with  what  rapture  to  see  her 
perfectly  arrayed  as  his  bride  ?  Bid  her  then  go  forward,  nothing- 
doubthig.  It  is  for  that  very  purpose  you  occupy  these  seats;  it  is  lo 
that  very  end  that  God  and  his  people  have  placed  you  where  you  are. 
Fcr  what  are  you  taken  from  the  thousands  of  your  brethren  and  con- 
stituted i-ito  the  great  Assembly  of  the  church,  if  it  be  not  to  advance 
the  great  glory  of  God  ?  Hold  not  your  peace  in  a  time  like  this,  lest, 
though  enlargement  and  deliverance  arise  from  some  other  place,  you 
and  your  father's  house  should  be  destroyed. 

IV.  What  remains  is  that  I  should  endeavor  to  apply  the  great  post- 
ure of  providence  beside  which  our  lot  is  cast,  and  the  eternal  truths 
which  were  first  deduced  from  God's  word,  to  the  course  of  our  own 
duty  in  the  circumstances  which  surround  us.  For  it  is  upon  eternal 
truth  that  all  duty  rests,  and  it  is  by  the  course  of  Providence  that  all 
duty  is  regulated  ;  and  blessed  is  that  church  and  blessed  is  that  man, 
and  none  besides,  to  whom  the  revealed  and  the  secret  will  of  God  thus 
made  known  become  the  invariable  rule  of  life.  It  is  not,  however,  the 
particular  things  which  we  ought  to  do,  that  it  is  proper  or  even  possible 
for  one  situated  as  I  am  to  point  out  for  the  consideration  of  this  vener- 
able court.  It  is  the  great  and  controlling  course  of  duty,  the  broad  and 
deep  hues  of  conduct,  and  both  of  these  as  having  peculiar  relevancy  to 
all  that  I  have  hitherto  advanced,  which  I  can  not  omit  stating.  Upon 
what  principles,  so  considered,  ought  the  action  of  such  a  church  and 
such  ])ersons  so  called  of  God,  in  such  a  crisis,  manifestly  to  proceed,  in 
order  to  be  any  ways  answerable  to  the  whole  current  and  spirit  of  these 
meditations  ? 

1.  In  the  first  place,  then,  and  above  all,  let  it  never  be  forgotten  that 
the  immediate  object  and  end  of  the  existence  of  the  church  of  Christ 
on  eai-th  as  a  visible  society,  is  to  perfect  and  extend  herself  in  the  salva- 
tion of  lost  sinners  of  the  human  race,  to  the  glory  of  her  divine  Lord. 
This  is  her  special  mission  in  the  world.  There  are,  no  doubt,  innumer- 
able blessings  bestowed  upon  the  universe  through  her,  besides  those 
which  result  directly  from  her  own  immediate  work.  But  all  of  these, 
even  the  very  highest — which  I  take  to  be  the  revelation  to  the  universe 
of  the  true  nature  of  God — are  but  incidental  to  her  own  peculiar  end. 
It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  very  object  and  substance  of  all  her  eflbrts 
and  all  her  teachings  inust  be  of  that  sort  which  is  addressed  to  the  faith 
of  men — suice  salvation  itself  is  by  grace  through  faith.  It  follows  still 
further,  that  the  church  of  Christ  has  no  direct  concern  with  any  thing 
at  all,  in  regard  to  which  she  may  not  address  herself  with  a  divine  au- 
thority to  the  human  conscience  and  understanding.  From  the  complex 
nature  of  human  aflairs  difficulties  may  sometimes  arise  in  the  practical 
application  of  these  pregnant  rules  of  duty :  but  in  the  whole  round  of 
the  active  life  of  the  church,  no  important  principles  are  more  obvious  in 


FIDELITY    IX    OUR    LOT. 


281 


themselves,  or  more  important  to  be  observed ;  and  y^t  none,  perhaps, 
have  been  more  frequently  or  grossly  violated  by  many  portions  of  the 
visible  church  in  all  ages  of  the  world. 

2.  In  the  second  place,  and  as  a  direct  result  of  what  goes  before,  let 
the  church  cleave  closer  and  closer  to  the  word  of  God,  and  more  and 
more  eagerly  spread  the  knowledge  of  it  among  men.  The  gospel  of 
Christ  is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  beUeveth ; 
and  it  is  the  very  end  of  the  existence  of  the  clnirch  that  men  may  be- 
Ueve,  and  that  believing  they  may  have  eternal  life.  Besides  all  this,  let 
lier  bear  in  mind  these  further  truths  :  1.  That  we,  as  a  great  department 
of  the  kingdom  of  God,  have  no  other  plea  to  ofier  to  mankind  but  the 
simple  necessity  and  power  of  godliness.  We  have  neither  rites  nor 
ceremonies  by  means  of  which  to  proclaim  an  exclusive  salvation.  We 
have  no  special  forms  by  virtue  of  which  we  are  able  to  assure  men  of 
the  safety  of  their  souls.  All  we  have  to  oifer  is  Christ,  and  him  cruci- 
fied. Therefore  let  us  offer  him  Avith  an  earnestness  at  least  equal  to 
that  with  which  substitutes  for  his  blood  are  pressed  upon  the  accept- 
ance of  men.  2.  This  word  of  God,  to  which  we  ought  thus  to  cleave, 
besides  being  able  to  save  men's  souls,  is  able,  moreover,  and  it  alone  is 
able,  to  restore  and  to  sustain  that  moral  and  intellectual  unity  of  the 
human  race,  the  loss  of  wliich  is  the  source  of  such  innumerable  miseries 
and  such  boundless  degradation,  and  the  recovery  of  which  will  be 
fraught  with  such  incalculable  results.  3.  It  is  upon  this  very  Bible  that 
the  main  pillar  of  all  that  is  good  and  great  rests,  in  the  very  scene  in 
which  our  whole  destiny  is  cast.  An  open  Bible  and  free  institutions  are 
the  elemental  principles  of  our  whole  American  dispensation.  To  lift 
on  high  that  open  Bible^to  bear  it  aloft  throughout  this  vast  continent 
and  amid  all  its  divei-sified  populations — this  is  the  grand  portion  of  our 
mission  which  those  free  institutions  enable  us  to  perform. 

3.  In  the  third  place,  and  also  as  an  immediate  consequence  of  all  that 
has  been  said,  let  the  church  more  and  more  eliminate  from  her  bosom, 
every  thing  for  which  she  can  not  produce  a  clear  warrant  from  God. 
The  Lord  did  not  call  her  to  be  his  counselor ;  he  sent  her  forth  to 
observe  and  to  teach  his  truth — to  obey  and  to  execute  his  command- 
ments. The  very  conception  of  a  divine  revelation  is  as  jjositive  in  Avhat 
it  excludes  as  in  what  it  embraces  ;  and  if  God's  sacred  word  be  a  per- 
fect rule  of  faith  and  duty — which  is  the  ultimate  truth  upon  which 
Protestantism  rests,  then  we  must  not  only  go  Avherever  that  rule  goes, 
but  we  must  stop  wherever  that  rule  stops.  If  our  faith  and  our  duty  as 
Christians  rest  exclusively  upon  an  inspired  Christian  record,  then,  mani- 
festly, to  extend  either  the  faith  or  the  dutj''  beyond  the  record,  is  not 
only  to  impeach  the  sufficiency  of  the  record  and  the  character  of  the 
God  who  gave  it,  but  is  also  recklessly  to  incur  the  extreme  ]>cril,  if 
not  to  insure  the  absolute  certainty  of  perverting,  by  our  carnal  addi- 
tions, the  very  substance  of  that  which  lies  at  the  foundation  of  all  our 


282  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRID'GB. 

divine  knowledge  and  all  our  eternal  hopes.  Nor  can  we  form  any  idea 
of  the  perfect  headship  of  Christ  over  his  church,  which  does  not  ex- 
clude evei-y  authority  but  that  of  Christ  from  the  faith  and  the  ohedienci 
of  his  people  ;  nor  can  we  have  any  conception  of  the  perfect  freedom 
of  the  church,  except  one  which  involves  on  the  one  side  a  perfect  con- 
secration to  Christ  and  a  perfect  conformity  to  his  will,  and  on  the  other 
a  complete  deliverance  from  every  authority  but  his  in  all  divine  things. 
I  speak  not  now  of  the  sacred  lights  of  private  judgment  and  individual 
conscience;  I  speak  of  the  church  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  the  trauscend- 
ant  obligation  resting  on  her,  tliat  she  add  nothing  to  the  revealed  will 
of  God,  and  that  she  take  nothing  from  it. 

4.  In. the  fourth  place,  and  as  a  necessary  corollary  from  the  three 
preceding  propositions,  as  well  as  a  most  express  duty  clearly  com- 
manded by  God,  let  the  church  discriminate  more  and  more  carefully 
among  those  who  profess  to  be  the  disciples  of  the  Lord.  Having  done 
so,  her  oi)position  to  all  the  corrupters  of  the  gospel  ought  to  be  most 
steady  and  emphatic  ;  while  she  ought  to  cherish  and  trust  as  brethren 
and  fellow  heirs  of  the  common  salvation,  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in 
sincerity  and  truth.  Union  among  all  true  Christians — unity  among  all 
true  Presbyterians — are  among  the  clearest  necessities  of  the  times  in 
which  we  live — a  union  and  a  unity  prompted  by  every  feeling  of  the 
renewed  soul,  and  urgently  demanded  of  us  all,  for  the  very  purpose  of 
enabling  every  follower  of  Christ  to  execute  with  greater  certainty  and 
power  his  part  of  the  work  required  of  us  all.  The  capacity  of  any 
particular  generation  to  perfect  this  union  among  all  true  Christians,  and 
this  unity  among  the  scattered  members  of  any  particular  branch  of  the 
flimily  of  Christ,  depends  altogether  upon  the  depth  and  purity  of  the 
faith  of  the  generation  itself  When  men  are  thoroughly  like  Christ, 
they  also  thoroughly  resemble  each  other;  when  they  love  him  su- 
premely, they  can  not  avoid  loving  each  other  tenderly  and  longing  for 
mutual  fellowship.  But  any  alliance  of  light  with  darkness  is  in  its  own 
nature  impossible ;  and  all  carnal  attempts  to  unite  the  children  of  God 
with  the  corrupters  of  his  truth,  upon  the  pretext  that  they  all  call 
themselves  Christians,  or  even  all  call  themselves  Presbyterians,  are 
obhged  to  begin  in  the  betrayal  of  faith,  and  end  in  the  sacrifice  of  god- 
liness. It  is  not  by  striving  to  be  conformed  to  each  other  that  either 
men  or  sects  can  be  united  in  Christ ;  but  it  is  by  exalting  Christ,  and 
exalting  the  truth  whereby  we  are  conformed  unto  Christ,  that  all  who 
are  fit  for  Christian  union  or  Christian  unity  develop  at  the  same  mo- 
ment their  mutual  assimilation  and  their  mutual  love.  So  that  both  the 
capacity  and  the  desire  of  the  church  to  perform  tliis  duty,  on  the  one 
side  and  the  other,  are  constant  tests  of  her  own  progress,  infallible 
proofs  of  her  true  condition. 

5.  In  tlio   fifth   place,  and   as   the  conclusion    of  the  whole,  let  the 
church,  thoroughly  comprehending  and  joyfully  admitting  that  she  is 


FIDELITY    IX     OUR    LOT.  283 

not  the  whole  body  of  Christ,  realize  completely  her  own  mission,  in  hei 
own  lot,  in  the  peculiar  time  of  her  present  call  to  the  kingdom.  There 
is  a  mission  and  a  lot  common  to  the  Avhole  church  of  God  ;  but  there  is, 
besides,  a  mission  and  a  lot  peculiar  to  every  part  of  the  redeemed  host ; 
and,  among  the  rest,  a  mission  and  a  lot  for  our  Presbyterian  church  in 
the  United  States.  Where  the  truth  of  God  is  most  pressed  and  un- 
periled — there  is  her  place.  Where  the  battle  rages  most  fiercely,  there 
men  look  for  her  banner.  Where  the  enemies  of  God  thirst  most  rav- 
enously for  Christian  blood,  there  let  her  be  ready  to  ofier  her  own 
freely  for  Christ's  sake.  Thus  has  the  mission  of  our  fathers  been 
always.  Thus  is  our  mission  to-day.  Thus  will  be  the  mission  of  our 
true  successors  to  the  end  of  time.  We  are  not  called  to  enjoy  honor 
and  repose  ;  we  are  called  to  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith.  And  if  we 
would  win  eternal  life,  we  must  fight  it  to  the  end.  Why,  then,  should 
not  the  church  consecrate  herself  absolutely,  and  without  reserve,  to  her 
Master  and  her  work  ?  She  knows  what  it  is,  and  she  knows  who  set 
her  on  it.  Behold  the  immense  resources  which  he  has  put  at  her  dis- 
posal !  What  an  army  of  ministers !  what  an  array  of  congregations  ! 
what  a  host  of  private  Christians  !  So  much  knowledge  and  Ught ;  so 
much  power  and  wealth  ;  such  a  theater  ;  such  opportunities ;  such  mo- 
tives !  What  hinders  but  that  she  take  the  lead  ?  Ah !  now  for  the 
heart ;  now  for  the  spirit ;  now  for  the  burning  love,  the  consuming 
zeal !  And  now  for  the  curse  of  Meroz  upon  every  one  who  will  not 
come  to  the  help  of  the  Lord  against  the  mighty ! 

v.  Fathers  and  brethren,  I  have  spoken  but  the  more  freely  because 
the  entire  habits  of  our  church,  as  well  as  many  things  personal  to  my- 
self, admonish  me  that  the  duty  will  no  more  devolve  on  me  to  plead 
with  you  from  this  j^osition,  and  upon  this  aspect,  of  this  great  subject. 
Bear  with  me,  therefore,  while  I  finish  this  testimony  with  one  remain- 
ing word  of  still  greater  freedom. 

I  know  this  church  well.  I  have  known  it  long.  From  my  youth  up 
I  have  sat  under  the  shadow  of  her  altars,  where  my  fathers  had  wor- 
shiped for  many  generations ;  and  for  five-and-twenty  years  I  have  gone 
in  and  out  in  the  presence  of  her  great  assemblies.  I  have  sat,  from  m  j 
childhood,  at  the  feet  of  the  great  leaders  among  us  ;  and  have  seen 
them,  one  by  one,  pass  away,  and  others  raised  up  by  God  to  sit  in  their 
vacant  seats.  Things  were  not  always  as  we  see  them  now.  I  have 
seen  this  church  on  the  very  brink  of  ruin,  I  now  behold  it  in  abound- 
ing prosperity.  I  have  seen  the  hand  of  God  deliver  this  church  when 
the  help  of  man  had  failed.  And  the  same  mighty  hand  conducts  her 
still,  along  her  glorious  way.  To-day  a  purer,  more  united,  more  power- 
ful church  exists  not  on  earth.  All  the  efforts  she  ever  made  are  as 
nothing  beside  the  efforts  she  can  make  now ;  all  the  triumphs  she  ever 
won,  are  but  intimations  of  the  triumphs  she  is  now  capable  of  winning 


284  ROBERT    J.    BRECKINRIDGE. 

This  is  the  condition  in  which  you  receive  this  church  from  the  hands 
of  those  who  are  raj^idly  shiking  into  tlio  grave.  They  did  not  receive 
it  in  tliis  condition.  I  see  in  the  midst  of  you,  here  and  there,  the  rehcs 
oi'  another  age.  They  know  full  well  that  you  receive  this  church  m  a 
widely  difierent  state  from  that  in  Avhich  we  received  it  from  those 
who  went  before.  They  know  better  than  you  can  ever  know,  that  we 
deliver  it  over  to  you  far  otherwise  than  it  was  deUvered  to  us.  Think 
you  it  was  through  sloth  and  cowardice — time-serving  and  self-seeking — 
temporizing  and  conformities — the  devices  of  men  and  distrust  of  God 
■ — the  love  of  the  world  and  indifference  to  God's  truth — that  so  great 
a  change  was  wrought,  such  mighty  works  done  ?  Think  ye,  verily,  in 
your  hearts,  that  such  results  follow  such  causes  ? 

I  speak  to  you  in  the  name  of  the  great  dead,  whose  ashes  as  yet  are 
hardly  cold.  I  beseech  you,  in  the  name  of  the  scattered  remnant  whom 
the  inexorable  stroke  of  death  still  respects.  I  charge  you  in  the  name 
of  our  covenanted  God — our  Saviour  and  yours.  See  that  ye  keep  this 
great  church  steadily  on  her  great  career.  See  that  ye  conduct  her  steps 
in  the  fear  and  the  power  of  God.  See  tliat  ye  transmit  to  those  who 
will  follow  you,  her  name  untarnished,  her  garments  unstained,  her  faith 
impoUuted.  I  call  yourselves  to  witness — I  appeal  to  posterity  to  judge 
between  us — I  invoke  our  common  Lord  and  Master  to  take  note,  that 
ye  receive  it  a  glorious  and  a  blessed  church,  in  the  midst  of  which 
Christ  dwells — and  that  ye  are  bound  to  deliver  it  up  in  like  estate  when 
your  warfare  is  accomplished.  It  is  not  that  I  distrust  you  that  I  speak 
thus  ;  for  I  do  not.  It  is  because  I  know  that  great  prosperity  is  full  of 
great  perils,  and  that  the  good  of  my  country,  the  salvation  of  my  race, 
and  the  glory  of  my  Saviour,  are  deeply  staked  on  the  fidelity  of  this 
church,  and  of  you  into  whose  hands  her  guidance  is  now  come  of  God, 
for  such  a  time  as  this. 

To  eat  of  the  tree  of  life  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God  ; 
to  receive  a  crown  of  life,  and  to  be  out  of  the  reach  of  the  second 
death ;  to  eat  of  the  hidden  manna,  and  to  receive  a  white  stone,  with 
the  new  name  ;  to  take  power  over  the  nations,  and  rule  them  with  a 
rod  of  iron;  to  have  a  name  written  in  the  book  of  life,  and  openly  con- 
fessed by  Christ  before  his  Father;  to  be  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  God, 
and  to  have  the  name  of  God,  and  the  name  of  the  city  of  God,  and  the 
new  name  of  the  Son  of  God  written  thereon  ;  to  sit  down  with  the  glo- 
rified Redeemer  on  his  own  throne,  even  as  he,  when  he  had  overcome,  sat 
down  with  the  Father  on  his  throne — these  are  the  rewards  of  victory  ! 
Are  they  not  unsearchable  ?     But  they  are  also  certain  and  eternal ! 


DISCOURSE    XII. 

JOHN     ]McCLINTOCK,r>.D. 

The  Methodist  Episcopal  Churcli  of  America  does  not  contain  a  man  of  greater 
intellectual  power  than  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  Descended  from  an  ancestry  of 
sound  old  north-of-Ireland  stock,  the  son  of  a  merchant  who  spared  no  pains  to  give 
him  the  best  early  advantages,  endowed  with  a  sound  constitution,  and  renewed  in 
heart  while  yet  a  youth,  he  came  up  with  all  the  elements  of  a  strong  man,  into 
which  he  rapidly  ripened  and  matured.  The  place  of  his  birth  (October  27th,  1814) 
was  Philadelphia,  and  the  date  of  his  conversion  the  year  1831,  when  he  united 
with  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church  in  New  York.  His  preliminary  studies  were 
pursued  under  Dr.  Wyhe,  of  Philadelphia,  and  he  graduated  at  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania,  in  1835.  He  was  ordained  in  Jersey  City,  New  Jersey,  in  1837,  and 
the  same  year  was  appointed  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  Dickinson  College, 
Carlisle,  Pa.  In  1840  he  took  the  chair  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  professorship ;  and 
in  1848  became  editor  of  the  Methodist  Quarterly  Review,  of  which  he  had  the 
charge  until  1856.  He  is  now  under  appointment  to  visit  the  European  Methodist 
churches,  as  delegate  from  the  American  General  Conference. 

In  the  line  of  authorship.  Dr.  McClintock  has  published  a  translation  of  Neander's 
"Life  of  Christ;"  a  series  of  elementary  Greek  and  Latin  books;  a  volume  on  the 
"  Temporal  Power  of  the  Pope"  (N.  Y.,  1855) ;  and  many  review  articles. 

The  ^Methodist  Review,  under  his  control,  took  a  stand,  in  point  of  sterling  abil- 
ity, second  to  no  other  quarterly  in  the  country.  Some  of  Dr.  McClintock's  articles 
would  compare  favorably  with  those  from  the  pens  of  any  reviewers,  European  or 
American.  Indeed,  we  apprehend  that  this  periodical,  under  his  direction,  was  of 
altogether  a  too  heavy  caliber  to  suit  the  mass  of  its  readers ;  and  that  for  this  rea- 
son the  Doctor  was  not  continued  in  the  chair  editorial. 

Dr.  McClintock  is  of  about  medium  height,  not  stoutly  built,  broad  and  high  fore- 
head, overhung  with  thin,  straggUng  hair,  face  flushed,  and  narrowing  toward  the 
chin,  and  small,  keen,  piercing  eyes. 

In  the  pulpit,  his  manner  is  animated  but  not  boisterous,  the  train  of  thought 
natural  and  luminous,  the  style  of  expression  simple,  chaste,  and  often  figurative 
and  illustrative.  His  sermons  are  never  metaphysical  and  abstruse,  but  almost 
always  practical  and  highly  evangelical. 

We  scarcely  know  a  ^j?a//b?-m-speaker  who  is  his  equal.  Perfectly  composed 
when  calm  self-possession  is  called  for,  and  a  perfect  tornado  to  sweep  down  oppo- 
sition when  this  means  will  best  prevail ;  deaUng  now  in  solid  argument,  now  in 
classic  allusion,  now  in  chaste  poetic  quotations,  and  now  in  pathetic,  or  fervent, 
melting,  glowing  appeal,  he  holds  his  audience  in  the  silence  of  death,  and  beara 
them  whithersoever  he  will.    An  instance  is  fresh  in  mind,  which  occurred  at  the 


286  JOHN    McCLINTOCK. 

Annual  Conference  of  last  year,  in  Newark,  New  Jersey,  when  the  measure  pertain- 
ing to  the  Irish  delegation  to  American  Methodists  was  under  discussion.  De- 
scended from  parents  of  the  "  Green.  Isle,"  and  proud  of  his  descent,  his  whole  heart 
was  in  the  movement ;  and  his  thoughts  that  breathed,  and  words  that  burned,  set 
on  fire  the  crowded  assembly,  and  left  every  soul  tremulous  with  emotion,  as  he 
concluded  with  that  gem  from  Moore  : 

"  "Wert  thou  all  that  I  wish  thee,  great,  glorious  and  free, 
First  flower  of  the  earth,  first  gem  of  the  sea, 
I  might  hail  thee  with  prouder,  with  happier  brow, 
But,  0 1  could  I  love  thee  more  deeply  than  now  ? 
No ;  thy  chains  as  they  rankle,  thy  blood  as  it  runs, 
Only  make  thee  more  painfully  dear  to  thy  sons. 
Whose  hearts,  like  the  young  of  the  desert  bird's  nest, 
Drink  love  with  each  life-drop  that  flows  from  thy  breast." 

The  foUoAving  admirable  sermon  has  not  until  now  appeared  in  print. 


THE  GROUND  OF  MAN'S  LOVE  TO  GOD. 

""We  love  him,  because  he  flrst  loved  us." — 1  John,  iv.  19. 

Among  the  so-called  "  evidences  of  Christianity"  there  is  none  so 
striking,  for  the  common  mind,  as  its  perfect  adaptation  to  the  wants  of 
human  natm'e.  The  wants  of  human  nature,  observe  ;  not  merely  of 
the  human  mind.  For,  as  it  is  not  on  the  intellectual  side  that  man's 
wants  and  his  weakness  are  most  plainly  shown,  so  it  is  not  to  the  intel- 
lectual side  of  our  nature  that  Christianity  solely,  or  even  chiefly 
addresses  itself.  We  have  instincts,  appetites,  affections,  passions,  as 
well  as  understanding  and  reason  ;  and  by  the  former,  far  more  than  by 
the  latter,  are  our  acts  determined  and  our  will  impelled.  Nor  do  I 
mean,  in  this  statement,  to  take  advantage  of  the  intellectual  and  consti- 
tutional differences  of  men  ;  and  to  say,  what  is  unquestionably  true, 
that  the  larger  part  of  mankind  are  governed  by  their  passions  rather 
than  their  reason.  What  I  mean  to  say,  without  regard  to  nice  meta- 
physical distinctions,  is,  that  in  a  broad  and  general  sense,  religion  ad- 
dresses itself  to  the  soul,  rather  than  to  the  mind  of  man  ;  to  his  affec- 
tions, rather  than  to  his  understanding. 

And  of  all  our  affections,  there  is  none  so  powerful  as  that  which 
forms  the  burden  of  my  text.  Our  human  hearts  crave  love.  The  babe 
nestling  in  its  mother's  breast,  learns  first  of  all  to  recognize  the  eye 
that  beams  on  it  with  the  truest,  deepest  love.  The  growing  boy  has 
not  lost  that  first  and  purest  feeling,  before  the  early  passion  of  the 
youth  goes  out  to  seek  a  home  in  some  warm  bosom  palpitating  Avith  the 


THE     GROUND     OF    MAN'S    LOYE    TO     GOD.  287 

same  tender  emotion.  And  when  that  dream  is  over,  the  mature  man 
seeks  in  home  and  family  a  center  of  love — and  wretched,  indeed,  is  he 
■who  does  not  find  it  there.  And  when  the  strife  of  life  is  nearly 
over,  and  other  passions  have  heen  hushed  to  rest,  the  gray-haired  sire 
pours  out  his  heart  anew  upon  the  little  prattlers  that  surround  the  hearth 
of  his  children,  and  finds,  m  their  fresh  and  undeceiving  affection,  a  new 
well-sj^ring  of  enjoyment,  gushing  up  amid  the  arid  desei-t  of  old  age. 

So,  at  every  stage  of  life,  man  seeks  for  love.  Yet  he  finds  none  that 
endures.  Wliat  affections  are  not  blasted  by  sin,  by  the  world's  sad 
changes,  by  the  treachery  of  feeble  natures,  by  the  destroying  forces  of 
ambition  or  of  avarice, — those,  I  say,  that  are  proof  against  all  these — 
and  O  !  hoyv  feio  these  are,  the  bitter  experience  of  life  has  convinced  us 
all — what  becomes  of  tliem  ?  Buried,  too  often,  in  the  graves  of  those 
that  gave  and  received  them.  Who  among  us  has  not  felt  his  o-wm  love 
— that  went  forth  warm  and  gushing — falling  back  in  an  Alpine  torrent 
upon  his  heart,  as  he  has  seen  the  dull  earth  close  upon  remains  dearer 
to  him  than  life  ! 

But  has  Goo  given  us  these  affections,  and  are  they  neve?' to  be  satisfied  ? 
Is  there  no  object  toward  which  they  can  be  turned,  that  shall  not 
change  ?  Here,  brethren,  it  is  that  Religion  offers  to  fill  this  deepest 
craving  of  our  nature.  She  oflTers  to  us  an  object  worthy  of  our  highest, 
purest  love  in  the  infinite  and  unchangeable  God.  She  offers  to  us  the 
"  One  altogether  lovely,"  and  tells  us  that  he  will  accej)t  our  love,  and 
treasure  it  up  so  that  it  shall  never  fail  us.  And  she  wooes  us  to  bestow 
our  affection  thus,  by  showing  us  that  God  is  not  only  so  infinite  in  good- 
ness as  to  be  willing  to  receive  our  love,  but  that,  in  his  unbounded  con- 
descension, he  has  sought  us  by  pouring  out  the  riches  of  his  own 
infinite  affection  upon  us !  And  she  tells  us,  that  this  supreme  affection 
will  not  only  have  permanence  in  itself,  but  will  also  so  sanctify  and  trans- 
figure all  our  lower  affections  as  to  endow  them  with  its  own  immortality, 
that  our  love  for  children,  parents,  husband,  wife,  or  friend,  need  not 
perish  with  them,  but  may  bloom  forever,  in  the  paradise  of  God.  In 
tins  sense,  we  may  take  as  entirely  true  the  beautiful  language  of 
"^^outhey : 

"They  sin,  -u-ho  tell  us  love  can  diel 

With  life  all  other  passions  fij, 

All  others  are  but  vanity. 

Earthly,  these  passions  of  the  earth, 

They  perish  where  they  had  thcii-  birth ; 

But  love  is  indestruckble, 

Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth — 

From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  retun  eth." 

Our  text  fixes,  with  some  dcfiniteness,  the  (/round  of  man's  love  to 
God,  and  this  is  the  topic  to  which  I  shall  now  more  directly  call  your 
attention. 


288  JOHN    McCLINTOCK. 

1.  1.  Some  believe,  or  affect  to  believe,  that  the  natural  mstlnots  of  hu- 
manity lead  to  God — that  the  heart  turns  to  him  that  made  it,  true  a3 
the  needle  to  the  pole,  if  its  natural  tendencies  are  not  thwarted.  Now 
that  this  was  the  original  design  of  the  Creator,  is  not  questioned.  But 
to  assert  that  it  is  the  case  noio,  is  so  to  fly  in  the  face  both  of  the  Bibht 
and  of  experience,  as  to  deserve  no  answer.  We  need  no  revelation  to 
tell  us  that  the  "  natural  mind  is  enmity  to  God  ;  that  it  is  not  subject  to 
the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be."  One  hour's  study  of  our  own 
inner  life,  or  even  of  the  purest,  gentlest  child  within  our  reach,  will 
show  us  that  whatever  might  have  been  the  bent  of  the  human  heart, 
under  its  original  tendencies,  its  invariable  bent  in  point  of  fact,  in  the 
condition  in  which  we  see  it — which  is,  no  doubt,  an  unnatural  condition — 
is  in  the  opposite  direction.     On  this  point  I  shall  not  dwell. 

2.  But  there  is  a  class  of  minds  that  assign  a  different  origin  to  the 
feeling  of  love  to  God.  It  grows  up,  they  tell  us,  not  indeed  sponta- 
neously,' but  under  the  manifestations  of  the  divine  goodness  and  love- 
liness in  this  beautiful  creation,  which  images  his  perfections.  This  class, 
large  at  all  times,  seems  of  late  to  be  increasing.  It  embraces  not 
merely  real  lovers  of  nature — souls  that  sympathize  with  her  grandest 
and  her  gentlest  moods,  endowed  Avith  eyes  to  see  her  celestial  beauty, 
and  with  ears  attuned  to  hear  her  perpetual  harmonies — but  also  the  far 
greater  number  of  sentimental  imitators  who  go  off  into  raptures  at  the 
flight  of  a  humming-bird,  or  exhale  in  delight  over  the  opening  petals  of 
the  first  violets  of  sj^ring — and  think  this  Avorship  ! 

If  one  has  ever  need  of  patience,  it  is  when  he  meets  with  a  confirmed 
member  of  this  canting  tribe — substituting  a  sickly,  sentimental  affect- 
ation of  feeling,  for  natural  emotions,  yet  all  the  time  believing,  or  affecting 
to  believe,  that  he  dwells  in  the  innermost  temple  of  nature,  and  there 
learns  to  love  and  worship  God !  And,  on  the  contrary,  if  one  should  ever 
be  sad,  it  should  be  to  see  a  noble  soul,  or.  an  earnest  heart,  turned  away 
from  the  fountain  of  living  iimters^  and  seeking  to  slake  its  thirst  at 
these  broken  cisfertis  that  can  hold  no  water.  Yet  there  are  many  such 
among  us.  It  seems  to  be  the  fashion  and  the  j^ride  of  a  certain  class  of 
cultivated  minds  to  owm  no  higher  source  of  inspiration  and  love  to  God 
than  that  which  Socrates  and  Plato  enjoyed.  One  of  these, Avhose  fathex-s 
worshiped  God  in  Christ,  and  loved  God  only  because  he  first  loved  them 
and  told  them  so  in  his  word — one  of  them,  a  man  of  mark,  too,  and 
deservedly,  seems,  from  seeking  God  in  nature,  to  have  gone  so  far  as  to 
have  no  God  but  nature  ;  and  his  religion  seems  to  be  a  poetic  dream. 
"  The  religious  sentiment,"  he  tells  us,  "  is  a  mountain  air.  It  is  myrrh, 
and  storax,  and  chlorine,  and  rosemary.  It  maketh  the  sky  and  the  hills 
sublime,  and  the  silent  song  of  the  star  is  it."  What  meaning  is  here, 
alas !  is  not  the  meaning  of  Christ  and  his  apostles. 

Now,  even  for  the  more  elevated  class  of  minds  to  which  I  have  re- 
ferred, there  can  be  no  real  love  to  God  from  such  sources  as  these 


THE  GROUNDS  OF  MAN'S  LOVE  TO  GOD.     289 

There  may.be  poetic  feeling— there  maybe  sentiment — but  there  can 
not  be  spirituality. 

But  such  minds  huA'C  a  great  advantage  over  the  common  run  of  man- 
kind. They  may  perceive  intellectMally  that  the  general  order  of  the 
world  is  good,  and  in  spite  of  the  eviFs  that  are  so  fearfully  apparent  on 
the  face  of  things.  But  if,  with  all  this,  they  do  not  reach  a  spiritual 
love  to  God,  Avhat  must  be  the  case  with  minds  untrained,  uneducated — 
and  judging  all  things  according  to  sense — such,  in  fact,  as  are  the  minds 
of  the  mass  of  men  ?  Will  these  learn  to  love  God  from  the  manifesta- 
tions of  his  character  as  made  to  them  in  nature,  and  even  in  the  order 
of  divine  providence  ?  Let  us  suppose  a  case.  Take  one  of  your  own 
farmers;  suppose  him  unacquainted  with  God,  and  send  him  out,  with 
this  clew  of  yours  in  his  hand,  for  the  first  time,  to  gather  his  notions  of 
God  from  the  world,  as  he  sees  it.  Let  him  leave  his  home — his  wife 
and  children  happy — on  a  bright  harvest  morning,  to  work  in  his  fields. 
The  air  is  filled  with  the  fragrance  of  many  flowers  ;  the  sky  is  beautiful 
in  cloudless  blue  ;  the  earth  teems  with  abundance  ;  the  fields  are  \Vav- 
ing  with  the  rich,  yellow  grain — the  very  hills  drop  fatness. 

Ask  him,  now,  what  is  the  nature  of  the  God  that  made  all  this,  and 
made  man  the  master  of  so  much  beauty  and  abundance?  Certainly  he 
will  tell  you — "God,  the  Creator,  is  a  being  of  boundless  love." 

But  let  the  scene  be  changed — as  changed  it  often  suddenly  is.  Let 
the  summer  heaven  be  rapidly  overcast;  let  the  clouds  gather  in  masses 
and  descend  toward  the  earth,  covering  the  sky  like  a  funeral  pall — let 
the  thunder  rise  from  low  and  distant  mutterings  till,  as  it  leaps  from 
cloud  to  cloud,  it  bursts  over  his  head  in  loud  explosions  as  of  Titanic 
artillery — let  the  rain  pour  forth  its  torrents,  and  the  winds  let  loos'* 
their  fury,  until  the  very  forest  trees  are  uprooted ;  let  him  see  the  grain 
— so  carefully  cut  and  gathered — scattered  by  the  fierce  blast,  and  what 
remains,  crushed  down  and  destroyed  by  the  driving  hail.  Let  him  see 
all  this,  and  then  turn  homeward  to  tell  of  the  destruction  to  his  family 
— let  him  reach  that  home  to  see  only  the  blackened  walls  of  the  fair  cot- 
tage that  he  left  in  the  morning — and  to  find  amid  the  ruins  the  charred 
and  blasted  corpses  of  his  wife  and  children,  slain  by  the  lightning ! 
What  now  ?  Will  he  not  be  ready,  in  the  bitterness  of  his  heart,  to 
curse  God  and  die  ! 

This  is  no  fimcy  sketch.     The  world  as  it  is,  is  full  of  such  realities, 

3.  But  it  is  thought  by  others,  that  the  majesty  of  the  divine  attri- 
hutcs  and  the  loveliness  of  the  divine  character,  as  revealed  in  the  Bible, 
will  cause  the  emotion  of  love  to  spiing  up  in  the  human  heart,  without 
any  special  revelation  to  itself — without  the  throes  of  remorse  for  sin  or 
the  pangs  of  new  birth  unto  righteousness.  Or,  in  other  words,  that 
the  Almighty  Father,  when  perceived,  must  be  loved  ;  apart,  entirely, 
from  any  Atonement,  any  Crucified  Son,  any  Shed  Blood.  Alluding  to 
these,  and  similar  views,  Luther  in  his  disputation  at  Heidelberg,  in  1518, 

I'J 


290  JOHN    McCLINTOCK. 

coiitrnsted  what  lie  called  the  theology  of  the  cross  [theologla  crucis) — 
the  object  of  which  is  the  revelation  of  God  in  the  crucified  Christ — 
with  the  theology  of  glory  [theologia  glorice)^  which  seeks  to  elevate 
itself  to  a  perception  Qf  the  majesty  of  that  hidden  Deity.  It  was  in  the 
spirit  of  this  latter  view,  that  Philip,  not  apprehending,  as  yet,  the  full- 
ness of  God  in  Christ,  could  not  embrace  the  full  import  of  his  words, 
and  said  to  him  (John,  xiv.  8),  Lord,  show  us  the  Father,  and  it  sitfficeth 
us.  Jesus  turned  to  Philip,  and  "  drew  back  his  fugitive  thoughts  that 
were  seeking  God  elsewhere,  and  led  them  toward  himself"  In  words 
of  gentle  reproach,  he  said :  Save  I  been  so  long  a  time  with  you,  and 
yet  hast  thou  not  knoion  me,  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen  me  hath  seen 
the  Father  ;  and  hoio  say  est  thou  then.  Show  us  the  Father  f  Believe 
me,  that  I  am  in  the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  tne. 

No,  brethren.  In  Christ,  the  crucified,  and  in  him  alone,  can  we  seek 
the  true  theology,  or  knowledge  of  God.  In  Christ  the  crucified,  and 
in  him  alone,  can  we  behold  such  a  manifestation  of  the  love  of  God  as 
will  satisfy  a  soul  pierced  Avith  the  sense  of  sin,  that  God  loves  it,  and 
will  accept  its  love.  I  say,  with  emphasis,  a  soul  pierced  with  the  sense 
of  sin,  because  there  is  no  other  way  for  a  sinful  man  to  reach  a  genu 
ine,  spiritual  apprehension  of  God  and  of  his  love,  except  through  the 
sense  of  sin.  And  where  the  atonement  and  the  divinity  of  the  Saviour 
are  rejected,  it  will  too  often  be  found  that  the  sense  of  sin  is  rejected 
also.  It  is  only  to  those  who  feel  their  sins  that  our  religion  makes  its 
c  Sers.  It  is  only  to  the  sick,  that  our  kind  Physician  comes.  And  to 
such,  he  always  comes.  When  this  sense  of  sin  has  once  fully  been 
realized;  when  every  refuge  of  lies  has  been  abandoned;  when  the 
poor  sinner,  plucking  courage  even  from  despair,  resolves  to  hasten 
into  the  very  presence  of  the  Saviour  whom  he  has  crucified — to  appeal 
to  that  gentle  One  at  whom  he  has  so  often  scoifed — to  cast  his  soul,  all 
uncleansed  as  it  is,  before  that  very  mercy-seat  which  he  has  despised — 
to  hide  himself  under  that  very  cross  which  he  has  mocked  and  derided  ; 
the72,  if  there  be  no  revelation  for  him  but  that  of  God,  the  all-powerful 
Avenger,  no  manifestation  but  that  of  the  infinite  eye,  piercing  to  the 
deepest  recess  of  his  sinful  heart,  and  laying  bare  vilenesses  of  which  he 
is  yot  unconscious,  even  though  every  nerve  of  his  moral  being  may  have 
been  tortured  with  the  exquisite  agony  of  his  all-pervading  sense  of  sin — if 
there  be  no  other  revelation  for  the  poor  wretch,  I  say,  but  this,  he  is 
of  all  men  most  miserable.  O,  how  terrible,  tq  know  God  at  last,  and 
then  to  know  him  only  as  a  consuming  fire !  It  were  better  for  that 
man  that  he  had  never  been  born. 

But,  O  !  it  is  the  cross,  under  which  he  has  thrown  himself!  And  what 
is  the  cross,  but  the  highest,  most  complete  manifestation  of  the  love  of 
God.  And  when  the  despairing  eye  once  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  Cross 
with  this  light  upon  it,  the  hardened  soul  no  longer  looks  on  God  as  the 
infinite  Avenger,  but  as  the  compassionate  Father!      The  sinner  sees 


THE     GROUND     OF    MAN'S    LOVE     TO    GOD.  £91 

that  God  loves  him — him,  wretched,  miserable,  undone — him,  sunken  in 
the  very  abyss  of  infamy — him,  an  object  of  hatred  ahnost  to  himself; 
and,  as  he  thinks,  a  fit  object  of  loathing  for  his  fellows.  And  when  thiii 
is  once  realized,  the  chord  is  touched — the  only  chord  in  his  heart  that 
could  be  touched — the  brute  rock  is  cleft  and  the  living  waters  gush 
forth.     "  He  loves  me !     Then  I  love  him." 

"  'Tis  love !     'Tis  love  I     Thou  diedst  for  me ! 
I  hear  thy  whisper  in  my  heart. 
The  morning  breaks ;  the  shadows  flee ; 

Pure,  universal  love  thou  art. 
To  me,  to  all,  thy  bowels  move : 
Thy  nature  and  thy  name  is  Love  1" 

This,  my  brethren,  is  the  pi'ocess  of  conversion.  There  may  be  a  thou 
sand  shades  of  difference  in  the  detail — in  the  degree  of  remorse,  in  the 
agony  of  prayer,  in  the  time  spent  in  the  struggle ;  nay,  with  some 
hearts,  prepared,  like  Lydia's,  for  a  ready  faith,  there  may  be  little  or  no 
struggle  at  all ;  but,  with  all,  God  is  seen  in  Christ  as  loving  the  soul, 
before  the  soul  loves  him.  This  is  the  scope  of  the  whole  of  the  beauti- 
ful and  tender  chapter  from  which  the  text  is  taken.  "  We  love  him," 
says  the  text,  "because  he  first  loved  us."  Do  we  ask  the  apostle 
wherein  this  love  of  God  was  shown  ?  He  has  already  told  us,  in  imme- 
diate connection  with  the  text. 

In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of  God  toward  %ls  (How  ?  In  crea- 
tion ?  In  providence  ?  No  ;  but) — because  God  sent  his  onhj-hegotten 
Son  into  the  icorld^  that  we  might  live  through  him.  Serein  is  love — 
not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  tis,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the 
propitiation  for  our  sins. 

And  so,  brethren,  when  a  sinner  comes  to  us,  asking  how  he  shall  find 
God  and  learn  to  love  him,  let  us  take  him — not  to  the  gi*andeur  of  na- 
ture, not  to  the  sublime  revelations  of  the  Bible — but  to  the  cross  of  our 
Saviour.  Let  us  point  him  to  the  bleeding  hands,  and  feet,  and  side ; 
let  us  bid  him  listen  to  the  Saviour's  groans  of  unutterable  agony ;  let  us 
tell  him  that  all  this  is  but  2yart  of  the  great  manifestation  of  God's  love 
to  him ;  and  when  he  has  learned  to  appropriate  tins  love  to  himself, 
then.,  and  not  sooner,  may  we  look  for  the  hour  of  his  deliverance  from 
sin,  and  submission  to  the  power  of  divine  love — ^may  we  hear  him  cry, 

"  Canst  thou,  0  Lord,  forgive  so  soon 
A  soul  that  sinned  so  long? 
Canst  thou  submit  thyself  to  one 
Who  loads  thee  still  with  wrong  ?" 

H.  liut,  after  all,  brethren,  we  have  only  accounted  for  the  origin 
of  the  emotion  of  love  to  God.  We  have  traced  it,  strictly  and  solely, 
to  the  cross  of  Jesus.     But  the  Bible  teaches,  and  all  experience  con- 


292  JOHN    McCLINTOCK. 

firms  it,  that  every  part  of  God's  word  and  works,  enlarges  and  strength 
ens  this  love,  when  once  it  is  established.  Nay,  the  soul  has  now  a  key 
to  unlock  many  mysteries  of  the  word  of  God,  which,  before,  it  could 
only  wrest  to  its  own  destruction ;  and  what  yet  remains  enigmatical,  it 
takes  upon  trust,  humbly  and  lovingly  leaning  on  Christ,  even  when  he 
says :  What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter. 
So,  too,  with  nature.  For  the  eye  that  can  see  it,  God's  handwriting  is 
everyAvhere,  and  the  redeemed  soul  has  the  clew  to  many  a  hieroglyphic 
which  is  to  others  utterly  undecipherable.  Indeed,  it  is  not  too  much 
to  say  that  the  only  true  lover  of  nature  is  he  that  loves  God  in  Christ. 
It  is  as  with  one  standing  in  one  of  those  caves  of  unknown  beauty,  of 
which  travelers  tell  us.  While  it  is  dark,  nothing  can  be  seen  but  the 
abyss,  or,  at  most,  a  faint  glimmer  of  ill-defined  forms.  But  flash  into  it 
the  light  of  a  single  torch,  and  myriad  splendors  crowd  upon  the  gaze  of 
the  beholder;  he  sees  long-drawn  colonnades,  sparkling  with  gems, 
chambers  of  beauty  and  glory  open  on  every  hand,  flashing  back  the 
light,  a  thousandfold  increased,  and  in  countless  varied  hues.  So,  the 
sense  of  God's  love  in  the  heart  gives  an  eye  for  nature,  and  supplies  the 
torch  to  illuminate  its  recesses  of  beauty.  For  the  ear  that  can  hear 
them,  ten  thousand  voices  speak,  and  all .  in  harmony,  the  name  of  God  ! 
The  sun,  rolling  in  his  majesty, 

"  And  with  his  tread,  of  thunder  force, 
FulfiUing  his  appointed  course," 

is  but  a  faint  and  feeble  image  of  the  great  central  Light  of  the  universe. 
The  spheres  of  heaven,  in  the  perpetual  harmony  of  their  unsleeping  mo- 
tion, swell  the  praise  of  God  !  The  earth,  radiant  with  beauty,  and 
Bmiling  in  joy,  proclaims  its  Maker's  love.     The  ocean  is  but 

"  The  mirror  where  the  Almighty 
Glasses  himself  in  tempests;" 

and  as  it  murmurs  on  the  shore,  or  foams  with  its  broad  biUows  o'er  the 
deep,  declares  its  God ;  and  even  the  tempests,  that  in  their  "  rising 
wrath  sweep  sea  and  sky,"  still  utter  the  name  of  him  who  rides  upon 
the  whirlwind  and  directs  the  storm.  In  a  word,  the  whole  universe  is 
but  a  temple,  with  God  for  its  deity,  and  the  redeemed  man  for  its  wor- 
shiper. 

And  so,  too,  with  the  order  of  divine  providence  in  the  world  :  its 
mysteries  remain,  but  not  out  of  harmony  ;  the  great  melody  of  Christ's 
atonement  pervades  them  all ;  and  all  the  variations,  rapid  and  wondrous 
as  they  are,  still  preserve  the  master-tone  which  gives  unity  and  clear- 
ness to  the  whole. 

ITT,  1.  So,  then,  brethren,  this  refined  and  exalted  love  takes  possession 
of  our  being,  and  such  are  some  of  the  means  of  its  culture  and  develop 


THE     GROUND     OF     MAN'S    LOVE    TO     GOD.  293 

ment.  But  its  best  and  surest  culture,  after  all,  is  to  be  found  in  that 
practice  to  which  the  beloved  apostle  exhorts,  in  immediate  connection 
■with  our  text :  If  God  so  loved us^  we  ought  also  to  love  one  another. 
And  again,  he  applies  most  directly,  and,  for  him,  in  somewhat  stern 
language,  the  test  and  proof  of  all  men's  love  to  God  :  If  a  man  say,  "  I 
love  God,"  and  hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar ;  for  he  that  loveth  not 
his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God,  u'hom  he  hath  not 
seen  ?  It  is  thus  the  design  of  Christianity  to  make  of  the  human  race 
one  universal  brotherhood ;  and  the  solvent  that  is  to  fuse  all  walls  of 
partition,  the  fire  that  is  to  melt  all  weapons  of  oppression,  is  the  love  of 
God.  For,  this  command m-int  ham  we  from  him,  that  he  loho  loveth 
God,  love  his  brother  also.  Loving  thus,  we  shall  fulfill  all  righteous- 
ness. The  whole  law  of  God  is  summed  up  in  this,  by  Christ  himself: 
Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  loith  all  thy 
soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind.  This  is  the  first  and  great  commandment. 
And  the  second  is  like  unto  it :  Thou  s/ialt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 
On  these  tioo  commandments  hang  all  the  laiv  and  the  prophets  (Matt., 
xxii.  37).  That  is  to  say,  if  we  love  God,  we  shall  do  all  things  else 
enjoined  in  God's  law — shall  fulfill  all  things  else  laid  down  by  God's 
prophets.  All  good  deads  will  spring  from  this  root,  as  the  plant  from 
the  seed.  There  is  one  word,  and  but  one,  in  which  all  the  law  is  con- 
tained ;  and  that  word  is  love  (Gal.,  v.  14). 

2.  Let  us  cherish,  brethren,  as  the  root  and  ground  of  our  religious 
life,  the  great  fact  of  God's  love,  to  us  in  Christ  Jesus.  There  is  danger 
of  our  passing  away  from  this  simple  scriptural  belief,  in  a  day  when  so 
many  are  wise  above  what  is  written — in  a  day  when  mysticism,  in  some 
quarters,  passes  current  for  philosophy,  and  philosophy  takes  precedence 
of  religion.  For  young  and  undisciplined  minds,  the  danger  is  great. 
But  no  danger  is  great,  after  all,  so  long  as  the  heart  keeps  its  love  ;  so 
long  as  we  keep  ourselves  near  to  the  cross  of  Christ.  Let  us  cherish 
then,  the  spirit  of  our  text,  and  if  asked  the  reason  for  the  faith  that  is 
within  us,  answer,  "  We  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us."  And  this 
answer  will  harmonize  with  all  voices  of  the  redeemed  on  earth  and  in 
heaven.  Ask  that  young  soul  just  born  into  the  kingdom,  and  all  quiv- 
ering with  the  joy  of  its  new  experience — its  answer  will  be,  as  it  turns 
to  the  blessed  cross  its  new-created  eye  of  faith — Hove  him  because  he 
first  loved  me. 

Ask  that  gray-haired  Christian,  who  for  years  and  years,  has  lived  in 
Christ  and  loved  his  God,  and  whose  aftections  flow  on  now  in  an  unbro- 
ken stream,  never  wandering  or  deviating,  to  the  bosom  of  his  Father  ; 
and  now,  like  Jacob,  he  stands  leaning  upon  the  top  of  his  staff,  and 
looking  to  behold  the  final  salvation  of  God.  Ask  him,  and  still  the  an- 
swer will  be,  Hove  him  because  he  first  loved  me. 

Stand  by  that  joyous  and  triumj)hant  death-bed,  and  seek  the  source 
of  its  joy  and  its  triumph.     You  will  find  it  in  the  last  whisper  that  falls 


294  JOHN     McCLINTOCK. 

from  the  trembling  lips,  ere  they  are  closed  forever :  He  loved  me  and 
gave  himself  for  me. 

And  so,  beloved,  it  shall  be  in  heaven.  Ages  hence,  around  the  throne 
of  God,  if,  in  his  mercy,  we  are  permitted  to  enter  that  beatific  presence, 
our  ears  shall  hear,  and  our  voices  shall  join  in  that  ascription  of  grateful, 
praise  that  goes  up  before  God  and  the  Lamb  forever — that  hymn  that 
rises  from  the  midst  of  the  elders,  who  fall  down  before  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain,  having  every  one  of  than  harps  and  golden  vials  full  of  odors, 
lohich  are  the  prayers  of  saints — that  grateful  hymn  which  goes  up  forever 
from  amid  the  many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and  from  that  vast 
m.ultitude  whose  number  is  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  and  thou- 
sands of  thousands — all  saying,  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Worthy  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain,  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and  wisdom,  and  strength, 
and  honor,  and  glory,  and  blessing."  "  And  every  creature  which  is  in 
heaven,  and  on  the  earth,  and  under  the  earth,  and  such  as  are  in  the 
sea,  all  that  are  in  them,"  shall  be  heard  saying,  "  Blessing,  and  honor, 
and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  ujon  the  throne,  and  unto 
the  Lamb  forever." 


DISCOURSE    XXII. 

MARK    HOPKINS,    D.  D. 

President  Hopkins  was  born  at  Stockbridge,  Mass.,  February  4th,  1802,  so  that 
he  is  now  fifty-five  years  of  age.  His  father  was  a  farmer,  and  gave  to  his  son  the 
advantages  of  a  sound  early  education,  such  as  our  New  England  schools  so  ad- 
mu-ably  afford.  When  about  twenty-four  years  old,  he  was  brought,  by  divine 
grace,  to  a  knowledge  of  the  Saviour,  and  admitted  to  the  fellowship  of  the  Con- 
gregational church  in  his  native  town.  He  graduated  at  Williamstown  in  1824, 
and  gave  himself  to  the  study  and  practice  of  medicine,  pursuing  his  profession  for 
a  time  in  New  York  city.  In  1826  he  was  appointed  as  tutor  in  WilUams'  College, 
and  in  1830  elected  to  fill  the  chair  of  Moral  Philosophy  and  Rhetoric.  He  came 
to  the  Presidency  of  the  same  institution  in  1836,  which  office  he  has  since  filled 
with  eminent  success.     He  is  also  pastor  of  the  College  church. 

Dr.  Hopkins  has  pubUshed  a  work  on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity ;  another 
called  Lowell  Lectures,  a  large  volume  of  miscellanies,  and  a  number  of  separate 
sermons.  He  has  long  been  considered  one  of  the  closest  thinkers  and  strongest 
writers  in  the  country.  His  mind  is  eminently  keen  and  analytical,  and  readily 
grasps  and  resolves  into  their  proper  elements  things  the  most  subtle  and  intricate. 
The  peculiarities  of  his  style,  as  a  preacher,  are  seen  in  his  miscellaneous  sermons. 
In  his  pulpit  productions  there  is  a  rare  combination  of  conciseness  and  pungency, 
of  sprightliness,  clearness,  sharpness,  and  strength — in  a  word,  of  the  soundly- 
logical  and  instructive,  with  the  rhetorical  and  ornate. 

The  discourse,  which  is  found  below,  was  preached  in  August,  1850,  before  the 
American  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science,  during  its  session  at  Albany, 
and  printed  by  request  of  that  body.  It  is  of  a  high  order,  and  will  extend  the 
reputation  of  the  author  as  a  philosophical  thinker,  a  polished  writer,  and  an  elo- 
quent preacher.  It  is  besides  eminently  timely  in  these  days,  when  science  and 
"  science,  falsely  so  called,"  seem  eager  to  assert  their  claims,  as  opposed  to  those  of 
revelation.  We  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  some  of  its  positions  stated  else 
whore;  nor  a  more  effectual  storming  of  the  two  great  points  where  science  di- 
verges into  infidelity.  Its  discriminations,  also,  respecting  the  sphere  of  faith  as 
greater  than  that  of  science,  and  distinct  from  it,  are  not  less  opportune  than  just. 
We  are  desired  to  say  for  the  author,  in  this  connection,  that  the  occasion  of  the 
discourse  suggested  a  consideration  of  the  relations  and  bearings  of  mathematical 
and  physical  science  ;  and  it  will  be  seen  that  what  is  said  refers  specifically  and 
almost  exclusively  to  them.  It  was  not  intended  to  deny  that  there  may  be  a 
science  of  mind  so  far  as  there  are  in  that  fixed  attributes,  necessaiy  relations, 
and  uniform  facts  certainly  deducible. 


296  MARK    HOPKINS 

THE  RELATIOXS  OF  SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 

"  Avoiding  profane  and  vain  babblings  and  oppositions  of  science  falsely  so  caUed , 
which,  sonae  professing,  have  erred  concerning  the  faith." — 1  Tim.,  vi.  20,  21. 

The  genera  and  species  of  science  are  permanent.  The  genus  Apis, 
and  the  species  mellifera,  are  the  same  to-day  as  when  they  were  de- 
scribed by  Virgil  eighteen  hundred  years  ago.  So,  too,  there  are  per- 
manent manifestations  of  human  cliaracter.  We  learn  from  the  text 
that  the  genus  hahbler  existed  eighteen  hundred  years  ago  as  it  does 
now,  and  that  then,  as  now,  it  was  divided  into  two  species.  First, 
there  was  the  simply  vain,  or  empty  babbler.  Without  depth,  frivolous, 
conceited,  with  no  apprehension  of  the  grand  and  solemn  aspects  of  this 
universe,  with  no  comprehension  of  its  great  pioblems  and  interests,  he 
is  always  and  everywhere  an  annoyance  and  a  hinderance.  The  second 
species  of  babbler  is  the  profane.  In  this  species  conceit  is  intensified, 
and  there  are  added  to  the  characteristics  of  the  other,  recklessness  and 
malignity.  Both  were  opposed  to  Christianity,  and,  then,  as  now, 
closely  associated  with  these,  often  identical,  were  some  who  pi-ofessed 
science  of  some  kind,  and  opposed  Christianity  on  that  ground.  They 
so  professed  it  as  to  err  from  the  faith.  Of  this  genus  some  are  earnest 
inquirers,  and  some  mere  babblers.  Certainly  there  have  never  been 
more  perfect  specimens  of  babbling,  whether  of  the  simply  vain,  or  of 
the  profane,  than  have  been  put  forth  in  the  name  of  science.  Before 
the  circulation  of  the  blood  was  known,  what  perfect  babble  were  the 
theories  of  animal  spirits  pervading  the  arteries  ?  How  much  scientific 
babble  was  there,  both  vain  and  profane,  about  the  zodiac  Dendera  ? 
Of  what  a  retreating  ocean  of  it  are  we  now  hearing  the  last  ripples 
respecting  the  "  A'estiges  of  creation"  and  the  Acarus  Crossi  f 

But  the  doctrine  implied  in  the  text  is,  that  whenever  any  thing 
claiming  to  be  science  is  in  opposition  to  Christianity,  it  is  science  falsely 
so  called ;  and  hence,  that  between  true  Christianity  and  true  science 
there  is  perfect  harmony.  It  is  also  implied  in  this  passage,  that  there 
is  a  sphere  of  faith  distinct  from  that  of  science.  These  are  the  points 
to  be  illustrated ;  and,  to  this  end,  let  us  inquire, 

1st,  What  science  is, 

2d,  Whether  all  science  is  related  to  religion. 

3d,  What  science  is  thus  related,  and  how  ;  and 

4th,  Consider  the  sphere  of  faith  as  distinct  from  that  of  science,  but 
not  opposed  to  it. 

First,  then,  what  is  science  ?  This  is  a  species  under  the  (/etiiis  knowl- 
edge. All  knowledge  is  not  science  ;  nor  is  the  most  important  part  of 
it.  Those  primitive  intuitions  which  underlie  all  other  knowledge, 
which  are  the  same  in  all,  and  giye  unity  to  the  race,  are  not  science. 
A  knowledge  of  isolated  facts  by  the  senses,  knowledge  from  testimony, 


THE     RELATIONS     OF    SCIENCE     AND     RELIGION.     297 

the  common  knowledge  by  winch  life  is  regulated,  is  not  science.  If  it 
\vere,  scientific  men  would  not  be  distinguished  from  others.  The  term 
is  used  somewhat  loosely,  but  we  shall  not  depart  from  the  general 
usage  if  we  say  that  science  is  certain  knowledge  organized  into  a  sys- 
tem. If  the  knowledge  be  conjectural,  or  doubtful,  it  is  not  science;  if 
it  be  of  single  facts  or  principles  unlinked  into  a  system,  it  is  not  science ; 
but  wherever  there  is  certain  knowledge  combined  into  a  system,  we 
call  it  science.  This,  however,  will  include  fields  of  great  diversity,  as 
the  grounds  of  certahity,  and  the  associating  tie,  or  bond  of  unity,  differ 
in  difterent  sciences. 

In  mathematical  science,  certainty,  such  as  it  is,  grows  out  of  pui-e 
conceptions  of  the  mmd,  and.  of  relations  among  them  whicli  no  will 
established,  and  which  no  will  can  change.  With  the  equality  of  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  to  two  right  angles  even  the  will  of  the 
Omnipotent  has  nothing  to  do.  The  same  is  true  of  all  hypothetical 
sciences — of  logic  as  it  is  sometimes  understood — as  it  must  be  under- 
stood to  be  an  exact  science.  Assuming  certain  premises,  the  conclu- 
sion, as  contained  in  them,  must  follow  irrespective  of  any  will.  Here, 
neither  the  certainty,  nor  the  science,  has  anything  to  do  with  any  flict; 
but  they  come  from  the  necessary  relations  of  thought. 

But  the  certainty  of  physical  science  dej^ends  wholly  on  the  uniform- 
ities of  nature,  as,  indeed,  does  the  science  itself;  and  these  may  be  the 
result  of  will,  and  so  contingent.  They  doubtless  are.  These  uniform- 
ities are  either  of  construction  and  arrangement  among  things  that 
co-exist ;  or  of  succession  among  those  that  follow  each  other ;  and  only 
as  there  is  uniformity  or  resemblance  can  there  be  physical  science. 

And  not  only  do  sciences  differ  in  the  ground  of  their  certainty,  but 
also  in  the  tie  that  binds  their  parts  together. 

Some  sciences,  as  mineralogy,  are  simply  those  of  arrangement  ac- 
cording to  resemblances,  wdthout  collocation.  Others,  as  anatomy,  are 
merely  a  knowledge  of  uniform  arrangement,  depending  doubtless  on  a 
law,  though  that  is  unknown.  Others,  again,  as  astronomy,  find  unity 
and  certainty  in  what  is  called  a  law,  or  a  force  acting  according  to  a 
fixed  rule.  The  conception  of  a  foi-ce  acting  directly  as  the  quantity  of 
mattei-,  and  inversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance,  belongs  to  the  mind 
alone  ;  but  when  we  find  from  observation  that  it  is  realized  in  nature, 
and  that  every  movement  of  every  body  in  the  system  is  regulated  by 
it,  Ave  reach  what  is  properly  called  a  law.  By  physical  law  is  most 
generally  meant  the  uniformity  itself;  but  here  we  have  not  merely 
that,  but  the  rule  by  which  that  uniformity  is  produced.  When  wo 
reach  this,  if  the  law  be  strictly  universal,  the  science  is  no  longer  in- 
ductive. It  becomes  deductive.  It  gives  us  the  power  of  prediction 
and  of  calculation,  not  only  with  respect  to  observed  bodies,  but  also 
respecting  those  not  yet  observed,  and  concerning  these  we  may  reason, 


298  MARK    HOPKINS. 

and,  as  Le  Yerriei'  did,  draw  certain  conclusions.  Tliis  is  the  highest 
form  of  physical  science. 

We  speak  here  of  law ;  but  what  we  know  of  physical  science  rs; 
simply  uniformities,  not  causes.  Science  knows  nothing,  it  can  know 
nothing  of  law  as  the  cause  of  any  uniformity,  but  only  as  the  rule  by 
which  the  cause  acts.  When  it  understands  itself,  it  claims  to  know 
only  this.  Our  conception  of  the  law  is  purely  subjective.  No  man  can 
show  that  any  thing  corresponding  to  it  is  necessary,  or  that  other  la\\'s 
may  not  obtain  in  other  portions  of  immensity. 

Resemblances,  uniformities,  and  the  rule  by  which  these  last  are  pro- 
duced, implying  the  power  of  classification  and  prediction — these  are 
the  whole  of  physical  science. 

We  next  inquire  whether  all  science  has  relation  to  religion. 

And  hei-e  I  observe  that  mathematics  has,  in  itself,  no  such  relation, 
nor  has  any  hypothetical  science.  Pure  mathematics  is  concerned  with 
nothing  that  can  not  be  demonstrated.  But  nothing  can  be  demonstrated 
that  depends,  or  can  by  any  possibility  depend,  upon  will — no  fact  can 
be  demonstrated — and  as  the  operation  and  power  of  will  are  excluded 
from  the  science,  it  can  have  no  necessary  reference  to  any  personal 
being,  beyond  the  mathematician  himself  How  can  a  science  that  has 
no  dependence  on  will,  or  power,  and  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  facts, 
have  any  relation  to  religion,  which  is  wholly  practical,  and  deals  only 
with  persons  and  with  facts  ? 

It  is  true,  as  was  said  by  Plato,  that  God  geometrizes.  He  has  made 
every  thing  by  weight  and  measure,  has  "  weighed  the  mountains  in 
scales  and  the  hills  in  a  balance."  It  is  true  that  the  forces  of  nature,  and 
the  figures  of  her  crystals,  and  the  forms  of  her  orbits  correspond  with 
the  definitions  and  the  calculations  of  mathematics.  If  they  did  not 
there  could  be  no  science  concerning  them.  But  it  is  one  thing  to 
demonstrate  a  proposition  respecting  an  elHpse  as  a  hypothetical  figure, 
and  quite  another  to  ascertain  the  y«c^  that  the  earth  moves  in  an  ellipse, 
and  so  moves  in  it  as  to  be  brought  round  to  the  same  star,  year  by  year 
at  the  same  time,  without  the  variation  of  a  fraction  of  a  second.  The 
first  is  pure  mathematics,  and  has  no  relation  to  religion  ;  the  second  is 
a  fact,  and  is  a  bright  and  wondrous  illustration  of  the  wusdom  and  the 
power  of  God. 

So  it  should  appear  to  all ;  but,  strange  to  say,  it  is  the  very  perfection 
of  this  coincidence  between  demonstration  and  fact  that  has  blinded  the 
eyes  of  some  to  the  moral  force  of  the  facts,  and  has  made  mathematics 
the  occasion  of  infidelity.  So  was  it  "ndth  La  Place — so  Avith  other  mere 
mathematicians.  But  how  ?  How  has  it  been  that  adepts  in  the  grandest 
of  all  sciences — in  the  knowledge  of  those  heavens  which  "  declare  the 
glory  of  God,"  have  been  atheistic  ?  It  is  thus  :  the  mathematician  can 
tell  by  figures  the  position  of  the  heavenly  bodies  a  hundred  years  ago, 
as  he  doubts  not,  a  hundred  years  hence.     Even  the  perturbations  and 


THE     RELATIONS     OF     SCIENCE     AND     RELIGION.      299 

irregularities  of  the  system  he  finds  to  be  but  as  a  vast  pencluhuii  swinging 
in  an  arc  that  can  be  measured  by  his  Ibrmulas.  But  the  relations  of  the 
figures  by  wliich  these  results  are  obtained  are  necessary ;  and  what  moie 
natural  than  to  transfer  this  necessity  over  to  the  facts  so  wonderfully 
corresponding  with  the  demonstration,  thus  excluding  God,  and  all  will, 
and  bringing  all  thmgs  under  the  sway  of  a  necessity  that  is  absolute  ? 
It  is  this  transference,  perhaps  often  unconscious,  of  the  necessity  of  the 
mathematical  relations  over  to  the  physical  facts  coincident  vv^ith  them, 
that  has  utterly  vitiated  the  logic  of  such  men  as  La  Place.  Could  La 
Place  demonstrate  that  there  would  be  an  eclipse  at  a  given  moment  ? 
Can  you,  my  mathematical  friend,  demonstrate  that  there  will  be  one  at 
a  given  moment  next  year  ?  No.  The  opposite  of  a  demonstration  is  an 
absurdity,  and  it  certainly  is  not  absurd  to  suppose  that  an  eclipse  wUl 
not  take  place.  You  can  demonstrate  it  if — if  the  laws  of  nature  should 
not  be  arrested,  and  if  under  them,  no  new  body  should  come  in ;  but 
demonstration  knows  of  no  possible  ^/' intervening  between  its  data  and 
its  conclusions.  The  laws  of  nature  may  be  arrested  ;  it  would  not  be 
absurd.  Even  under  them  there  may  come  in  a  new  comet  of  six  thou- 
sand years,  with  a  tail  as  long  as  its  cii-cuit,  and  leave  your  demonstra- 
tion merely  idle  figures  on  paper. 

But  the  forces  of  nature  may  depend  upon  will.  Working,  as  they  all 
do,  regularly,  and  for  beneficial  ends,  it  would  seem  most  natural  to  think 
they  do.  But  if  we  admit  this,  then  the  very  coincidence  between  de- 
monstration and  fact,  thus  used  ds  a  premiss  to  exclude  God,  may  be  the 
very  highest  evidence,  nay,  the  only  possihle  evidence^  of  the  infinite  en- 
ergy of  a  will  perfectly  regulated.  The  duration  of  the  system  is  necessary 
to  show  that  there  is  no  weariness  in  the  energy  ;  its  vastness  and  inconceiv- 
able velocities  are  necessary  to  show  that  that  energy  has  no  limit ;  and 
the  mathematical  precision  is  necessary  to  show  that  it  is  perfectly  regu- 
lated. Could  God,  in  any  other  way,  have  given  such  an  example  of 
punctuality  and  order  ?  or  have  so  combined  the  ideas  of  infinite  energy 
and  of  perfect  control  ? 

Thus,  while  pure  mathematics  has  no  direct  relation  to  religion,  the 
relation  to  it  of  nature  appearing  under  mathematical  forms  is  most  inti- 
mate. Only  thus  could  some  of  the  divine  attributes  find  their  highest 
expression.  Within  its  ow^i  sphere  this  science  is  worthy  of  all  regard, 
but  inferences  from  it  which  are  not  mathematical,  but  which  men  seek 
to  clothe  with  the  same  certainty,  to  dignify  with  the  name  of  science, 
and  professing  which  they  err  from  the  faith,  we  are  at  liberty  to  desig- 
nate as  "  science  falsely  so  called."  If  it  can  be  shown  at  all,  certainly 
mathematics  can  not  show  that  the  highest  lesson  taught  by  nature  un- 
der mathematical  forms  is  not  that  she  is  the  exponent  of  a  will  perfectly 
regulated,  and  yet  free.  Thus  seen,  she  becomes  the  most  perfect  possi- 
ble  type  and  herald  of  a  moral  government  in  which  "judgment  shall 
be  laid  to  the  line,  and  righteousness  to  the  plummet." 


200  'MARK    HOPKINS. 

"We  next  inquire  what  sciences  are  related  to  religion,  and  how  ? 

And  here  we  say  that  all  sciences  of  fact  and  law,  of  organization  and 
succession,  are  related  to  religion,  but  they  are  so  related  only  as  there 
may  be  indicated  through  them  intelligence  and  will.  Intelligence  and 
will  are  the  elements  which  we  must  find  in  those  materials  which  are 
the  basis  of  science  if  we  would  bring  it  into  relation  to  religion. 

But  that  inteUlgence  must  lie  among  the  materials  of  science,  as  thought 
in  a  book,  would  seem  to  me  self-evident  if  it  had  not  so  often  been  over- 
looked or  denied.  Is  it  possible,  let  me  ask,  to  study  and  understand 
any  thing  which  does  not  contain  thought,  and  so  is  its  product  ?  Can 
we  thus  study  a  book  or  an  orrery  ?  If  not,  how  can  we  study  and  un- 
derstand that  Avhich  the  orrery  represents  ?  Can  intelligence  commune 
except  with  inteUigence  manifesting  itself  either  directly,  or  through 
signs  that  may  be  called  a  language  ?  Can  there  be  an  objective  law  that 
does  not  correspond  to  a  subjective  idea,  and  that  did  not  originate  in  it? 
It  is  the  dignity  of  science  that  in  it  we  reach  and  share  the  thoughts  of 
God.  We  may  receive  them  as  from  a  letter  unauthenticated,  and  so  have 
no  conscious  communion  with  him  ;  but  we  can  not  understand  them  and 
have  a  science,  a  Jcnoioing^  unless  they  are  thoughts,  and  so,  proofs  of  an 
intelligent  being  who  thus  expresses  them.  Thus  does  it  seem  to  me, 
that  the  very  existence,  the  possibility  even,  of  that  science  through 
which  men  are  sometimes  led  to  deny  God  as  intelligent,  constantly 
gives  the  lie  to  that  denial — that  the  denial  by  science  of  intelligence 
manifested  tlarough  those  things  which  it  studies,  is  suicidal. 

But  while  there  is  this  proof  through  science  of  intelhgence  in  God, 
do  not  those  uniformities  in  nature,  without  which  science  could  not  be, 
preclude  the  idea  of  free  will  ?  It  is,  as  has  been  said,  the  knoAvledge  of 
uniformities  in  succession  and  in  arrangement  that  is  science ;  and  as  science 
knows  nature  only  as  uniform,  whether  through  law  or  otherwise,  the 
question  is,  whether  her  inference  would  not  be  to  a  uniform  cause,  pos- 
sessing possibly  a  degree  of  intelligence,  but  devoid  of  a  proper  person- 
ality and  will.  This  is  the  inference  which  the  mere  naturalist  has  drawn. 
He  has  passed  from  the  uniformity  of  his  data  to  the  uniformity  of  their 
cause,  precisely  as  the  mathematician  has  passed  from  the  necessity  of  his 
data  to  the  necessity  of  their  cause.  The  premises  are  different,  but  thfe 
result  is  essentially  the  same.  Now,  if,  as  Comte  and  his  followers  sim- 
ply assume,  there  is  properly  no  such  thing  as  will,  if  it  be  only  our 
ignorance  that  prevents  the  reduction  of  all  things  to  calculable  uniform- 
ities, and  so  to  Avhat  they  call  positive  science,  then  the  inference  would 
be  legitimate.  But  against  this  we  say  that  both  primitive  belief  and  fair 
deduction  are  conclusive.     To  this  I  ask  your  attention. 

We  say,  then,  that  the  uniformities  of  nature  are  not  only  no  proof  of 
the  want  of  personality  and  will  in  their  author,  but  that  they  prove  it. 

And  we  say  that  they  do  this,  first,  by  certain  uniform  exceptions  to 
the  uniformities.     Of  this  we  take  a  case  under  caloric.     It  is  a  uniform 


THE     RELATIONS     OF    SCIENCE     AND     RELIGION.       gQl 

fact  in  the  science  of  that,  that  it  expands  all  bodies,  and  of  course  that 
its  abstraction  contracts  them.  But  to  this  last  there  is  put  in  the  uni- 
form exception  of  water  when  it  has  reached  the  freezing  point,  because 
our  oceans  and  lakes  would  otherwise  become  solidified.  Now  we  say 
that  the  putting  in  of  a  uniform  exception  like  this,  for  an  obvious  end, 
shows  that  the  uniformity  itself  was  the  result  of  choice. 

We  say,  secondly,  that  the  uniformities  of  nature  prove  the  presence 
of  personality,  will,  and  choice,  from  their  congruity  Avith  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  mind,  and  their  adaptation  to  its  education  and  wants.  Our 
mental  constitution  and  the  instincts  of  all  animals  are  pre-conformed  to 
these  uniformities,  so  that  we  naturally  expect  them.  For  a  logical  be- 
lief in  the  uniformity  of  the  processes  of  nature,  a  wide  induction  would 
be  required,  but  we  find  this  so  impressed  on  the  mind  of  the  infant, 
that  its  very  constitution  is  adapted  to  the  state  into  which  it  is  to  come, 
as  that  of  the  eye  is  to  the  light  to  which  it  is  to  come.  There  is  in  us 
all  a  natural  expectation  of  the  constancy  of  nature.  But  thus  viewed 
this  expectation  is  of  the  nature  of  a  promise ;  and  a  promise  can  be 
made  only  by  a  personal  being ;  and  that  constancy  of  nature,  of  which 
research  only  deepens  the  conviction,  is  simply  the  fulfillment  of  the 
promise.  Who  doubts  the  personality  of  a  man  because  he  is  punctual 
to  a  moment,  and  exact  in  the  fulfillment  of  his  promises  ?  And  so 
every  instance  of  that  constancy  in  the  processes  of  nature  upon  which 
science  is  based,  instead  of  being  an  evidence  of  a  want  of  personality 
in  God,  is  but  the  utterance  of  nature  responding  to  that  of  revelation, 
and  saying,  "  He  is  faithful  that  promised."  If  we  admit  that  simple 
uniformity  may  originate  in  an  instinctive  force,  yet  how  could  a  con- 
gruity between  the  constitution  of  mind  and  of  matter  have  sprung  from 
any  thing  but  the  choice  of  an  all-comprehensive  and  a  divine  wisdom '? 

But  not  only  is  the  constancy  of  nature  congruous  to  the  constitution 
of  mind,  and  an  evidence  of  the  faithfulness  of  God,  it  might  well  ha'.e 
been  chosen  with  reference  to  the  education  and  wants  of  mind.  Who 
does  not  see  that  this  constancy  and  the  consequent  certainty  is  an  essen- 
tial element — perhaps  not  more  so  than  uncertainty — but  still  an  essen- 
tial element  in  the  education  of  mind  and  its  acquisition  of  practical 
power?  Who  does  not  see  that  a  want  of  constancy  in  structure  and 
arrangement  would  have  necessitated  the  study  of  each  individual  object, 
and  so  life  had  been  consumed  before  we  had  learned  how  to  live  ?  Who 
does  not  sec  that  a  want  of  constancy  in  succession  would  have  rendered 
experience  nugatory,  and  rational  calculations  and  plans  for  the  future 
impossible  ?  Is,  then,  a  fcatui-e  in  the  constitution  of  nature  so  adapte<l 
to  the  education  and  wants  of  mind  that  we  can  not  see  how  a  wise 
being  should  have  failed  to  choose  it  to  be  set  down  as  evidence  of  a 
want  of  choice  ? 

But,  once  more,  that  the  uniformities  of  nature  indicate  no  want  ot 
personality  and  will  in  their  author  vs  evident,  because  science  itsell 


302  MARK    HOPKINS. 

shows  that  science  has  not  always  been  possible,  and  that  when  it  has, 
its  tiniforraities  have  not  been  permanent,  but  have  changed  and  been 
progressive  through  different  epochs.  Science  carries  us  back  to  a  be- 
ginning. We  thank  g'^.ology  for  that.  She  says, '"  In  the  'beginning^''  not 
iess  emphatically  than  docs  revelation.  To  the  miracle,  of  that  begin- 
ning she  goes  back  and  lays  her  hand  upon  her  mouth.  She  says,  "It  ia 
too  wonderful  for  me,  it  is  high,  I  can  not  attain  unto  it."  She  has 
reached  the  limit  of  her  element,  the  point  where  her  conditions  cease. 
Science  also  shows  that  after  this  beginning,  there  have  been  periods 
when  science  was  impossible ;  that  when  it  has  been,  it  was  not  the  same 
a?  now,  and  that  it  may  not  always  be.  What  science  could  there  have 
been  in  those  geological  epochs,  those  formative  periods,  when  the  elec- 
trical agencies  were  unbalanced,  and  the  fire-storms  were  abroad,  and 
the  waters  were  playing  hide  and  seek  over  the  tops  of  these  hills  and 
along  these  valleys,  and  Avhen  the  demon  of  the  earthquake  had  his  back 
under  our  mountains  lifting  them  up  ?  What  science  would  there  be 
now  if  the  crust  of  the  earth  should  again  be  riven,  and  the  broad  Pa- 
cific should  be  let  down  upon  that  ocean  of  fire  of  which  geologists  tell 
us  ?  In  utter  chaos  science  is  impossible.  How  different  too  must  sci- 
ence have  been  in  her  forms  and  orders  of  succession  when  the  earth 
was  covered  with  a  species  of  vegetation  now  extinct  and  consolidated 
into  coal,  and  when  the  Iguanodon  and  Megalosaurus,  and  huge  Sauriana 
were  the  "monarchs  of  all  they  surveyed  ?"  And  not  only  does  science 
say  that  there  was  a  time  when  the  present  species  were  not,  but  also, 
that  when  they  came,  they  came,  not  by  development,  but  that  the  mag- 
nates walked  in  the  van.  She  has  no  whisper  to  favor  the  theory  of  the 
confusion  of  species — of  the  transition  of  a  sea-plant  into  a  land-plant — 
of  a  mite  into  a  mammoth,  or  a  man.  She  sweeps  away  all  notion  of 
any  permanent  chain  of  being.  She  says  that  species  have  not  been  per- 
manent, that  in  the  march  of  creative  energy  they  have  been  constantly 
dropped  and  never  repeated,  that  the  progress  has  been  always  upw-ard, 
that  science  is  no  fixed  thing,  no  perpetual  circle ;  but  that  wdth  new 
epochs,  new  constructions  and  new  uniformities  have  been  added,  and 
that  every  new  movement  not  only  connects  itself  with  what  preceded, 
but  looks  forward  to  some  higher  system  for  which  it  prepares,  and  which 
it  dimly  foreshadows.  So  has  it  been  in  the  long  past — so  is  it  now.  In 
the  present  system,  mental  and  physical,  there  are  symptoms  of  unrest. 
He  know^s  little  who  does  not  know  that  the  elements  are  sleeping  be- 
neath and  around  him  which  may,  as  in  a  moment,  bring  it  to  an  end; 
and  the  voice  of  geology,  from  the  past,  no  less  than  that  of  revelation, 
is,  that  "  all  these  things  are  to  be  dissolved,  and  that  we  are  to  look  for 
new  heavens  and  a  new  earth." 

For  the  conception  and  carrying  foward  of  this  progressive  and  ever 
In-ightening  plan,  reason  demands  the  presence  of  a  personal  God.  Here 
aie  no  circling  uniformit'es.     Its  step  is  onward  and  upward  toward 


THE    RELATIONS     OF     SCIENCE    AND    RELIGION.      ^08 

some  consummation  worthy  of  Him.  Of  this  mighty  plan  the  uniform- 
ities of  science  are  a  part.  Seen  thus,  not  as  the  merely  scientific  man 
sees  them,  from  within,  where  only  uniformities  can  be  seen,  but  from 
without  and  from  above ;  seen  in  their  place,  as  permanent  only  for  a 
time,  as  changing  with  the  epoch,  and*  flexible  to  the  wants  of  mind, 
these  very  uniformities  proclaim  with  trumpet  tongue  the  presence  of 
intelligence  and  of  "will. 

Thus  does  the  babble  of  necessity,  and  of  independent  laws,  and  un- 
conscious agencies,  and  pantheistic  instincts  die  away,  and  science  takes 
its  placewith  its  censer  in  its  hand,  and  worships  before  the  throne  of 
the  Almighty. 

This  point  I  dwell  upon,  because  science  has  been  infidel  to  such  an 
extent.  It  ought  not  to  be.  It  can  be  only  through  a  false  logic,  tak- 
ing its  departure,  as  I  have  endeavored  to  show,  from  the  certainties  of 
mathematics,  and  the  uniformities  of  physical  science.  Let  science  keep 
its  own  place.  In  its  own  right  it  can  not  go  beyond  itself,  and  in  that 
right  it  has  strictly  nothing  to  do  but  to  arrange  and  label  phenomena ; 
and  to  leave  the  inferences  to  be  drawn  from  them  respecting  the  great 
intei'ests  of  man  and  the  profounder  problems  of  the  universe  to  a  higher 
Avisdom.  If  the  inference  from  the  science  to  irreligion  wei'e  a  part  of 
the  science,  we  would  respect  it  as  such ;  but  the  moment  a  scientific 
man  attempts  to  draw  such  inferences,  for  which,  perhaps,  the  very  pur- 
suit of  his  science  may  have  specially  disqualified  him,  he  lays  aside  his 
own  chava-.ter,  and  puts  himself  on  ground  where  others  have  a  right  at 
least  quite  as  good  as  he;  for,  of  the  problems  of  religion  and  human 
destiny,  science,  as  such,  can  know  nothing.  Those  problems  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  any  cii'cular  and  recurring  movement.  As  has  been  said, 
all  knowledge  is  not  scientific,  or  rather  science  is  not  all  knowledge,  nor 
can  scientific  knowledge  in  any  case  reach  the  essence  of  things.  The 
inference  from  any  paiticular  science  that  there  is,  or  is  not,  a  God,  is 
not  a  part  of  the  science ;  and  as  to  the  mode  of  his  existence,  science 
has  never  "so  much  as  heard  whether  there  be  any  Holy  Ghost."  She 
may  reach  general  truths  and  laws,  but  of  the  ground  out  of  which  her 
l)!ienomena  spring  she  is  utterly  ignorant.  Her  sphere,  if  not  narrow, 
is  limited.  Even  in  Astronomy,  where  she  has  been  called  "  star-eyed," 
she  knows  only  recurring  movements,  but  is  mole-eyed  with  reference  to 
that  great  movement  which  is  sweeping  us  all — sun  and  stars  together 
— we  know  not  whither.  She  knows  nothing  of  phenomena  except  as 
tlioy  recur;  nothing  of  love,  and  worship,  and  of  a  coinprehensiA-e  wis- 
dom, though  she  may  minister  to  them.  These,  the  great  leaders  in 
science,  its  discoverers  and  pioneers,  have  retained.  They  have  been  in 
sympathy  with  God.  They  have  known  that  man  as  man  is  greater 
than  man  as  scientific.  But  men  of  the  second  rank  ha\'e  often  culti- 
vated science  at  the  expense  of  their  humanity.  It  is  not  that  they  have 
been  too  scientific,  but  exclusively  or  falsely  so.     The  stream  has  deep- 


OQ^  MARK    HOPKINS. 

ened  only  by  growing  narrow.  They  have  become  incapable  of  reason- 
ing from  data  not  involved  in  their  particular  science,  and  on  subjects 
aside  from  their  own  specialty,  mere  b'abblers. 

In  thus  showing  the  relations  of  science  and  religion  we  have  consid- 
ered only  fundamental,  and  not  particular  revealed  truths.  This  the 
time  would  not  admit.  With  respect  to  these  we  neither  fear  nor  shun 
science.  We  welcome  it.  We  welcome  all  truth.  The  Bible  stands  on 
its  own  evidence,  which  we  see  and  feel  to  be  conclusive ;  and  Ave  have 
no  fear  that  any  thing  that  can  be  shown  to  he  science  can  be  brought 
into  contradiction  with  any  thing  that  can  be  shown  to  be  in  the  Bible. 

We  now  pass  to  consider,  as  was  proposed,  in  the  fourth  place,  the 
sphere  of  faith  as  distinct  from  that  of  science,  but  not  opposed  to  it. 
"  Which  some  professmg,"  says  the  text,  "  have  erred  fi-om  the  faith" — 
that  is,  from  the  Christian  doctrine  that  is  received,  not  on  the  ground 
of  the  evidence  of  science,  but  of  testimony,  and  by  faith ;  thus  imply- 
ing that  faith  is  a  ground  of  belief  and  of  action  distinct  from  science. 

And  who  does  not  believe  this  ?  Come  with  me,  my  scientific  friend. 
Leave  your  retorts  and  dried  specimens.  Here  is  an  infant.  See  it  look 
up  Avith  confiding  love  into  the  eye  of  its  mother.  Is  there  science  in 
that  ?  No.  There  is  confidence  in  a  person,  and  that  is  faith.  This 
can  never  become  either  science  or  its  basis.  Is  this  now  a  less  natural, 
or  necessary,  or  rational  principle  of  belief  and  of  action  than  that  first 
faith  of  this  same  infant  in  the  constancy  of  nature,  which  is  the  basis 
of  science  ;  for  in  the  last  analysis  even  science  will  be  found  to  rest  upon 
faith  of  a  certain  kind  ?  Are  not,  indeed,  the  functions  of  the  first  evi- 
dently higher  and  more  vital  than  those  of  the  last  ?  Certainly  they  are 
as  much  higher  and  more  vital,  as  the  sphere  of  life,  of  society,  of  moral 
government,  is  higher  than  that  of  matter  and  mere  physical  laws. 
Faith  is  the  essential  bond  between  man  and  man.  It  is  the  bond  of  the 
family,  of  the  state ;  on  it  every  commercial  and  social  interest  depends. 
It  unites  eveiy  loving  seraph  to  the  throne  of  God ;  it  unites  the  society 
of  heaven.  And  is  science  to  ignore  this,  and  mock  at  it,  while  yet  she  is 
grinding  in  the  prison-house  of  her  own  low  uniformities?  Nature  might 
perish,  and  spiritual  well-being  remain,  hut  if  this  confidence  be  lost,  our 
highest  good  is  inconceivable. 

Science  knows  necessary  relations  and  uniformities,  but  can  it  know 
any  thing  of  love,  or  worship,  or  ultimate  ends  ?  Is  science  life  ?  The 
fact  of  life  lies  back  of  science.  Is  science  freedom  ?  The  fact  of  free- 
dom is  above  science.  Is  it  love  ?  Love  springs  up  by  no  rule  of 
science.  Is  science  wisdom  ?  Wisdom  uses  science  in  the  pursuit  of 
ultimate  ends,  but  of  these  science  knows  nothing.  Is  there  science  in 
a  smile,  a  tear,  a  repartee  ?  Can  science  make  a  home,  or  ever  preside 
there  ?  Science  may  cook  the  dinner ;  it  always  should  ;  but  "  better 
is  a  dirmer  of  herbs  Avhere  love  is,"  though  it  be  poorly  cooked,  "  than  a 
stalled  ox,"  scientifically  cooked,  "  and  hatred  therewitt ."   But  freedom, 


THE     RELATIONS    OF    SCIENCE     AND     RELIGION.      3Q5 

love,  wisdom,  involve  fiiith  ;  and  give  tliis  to  human  beings — give  them 
faith  in  each  other  and  in  God — and  the  ministrations  of  science  are 
secondary.  This  is  what  is  needed  on  earth,  this  will  underlie  the  joys 
of  heaven. 

This  difference  between  persons  and  things,  and  between  the  princi- 
ples by  which  we  are  fitted  to  act  with  reference  to  each,  has  not  been 
sufficiently  signalized.  Persons  and  things  form  distinct  spheres,  and 
when  I  trust  property  in  the  hands  of  a  person  simply  on  his  Avord,  the 
ground  of  my  reliance  is  not  the  same  as  when  I  trust,  or  expect  that 
the  sun  wdll  rise  to-morrow.  One  is  an  instinctive  confidence  in  the  con- 
stancy of  nature  confirmed  by  experience,  and  may  underlie  science;  the 
other  implies  an  apprehension  of  freedom,  responsibility,  goodness,  and 
a  voluntary  confidence  in  the  person  possessing  these.  This  is  faith,  and 
can  never  be  the  basis  of  science.  What  is  natural,  fixed,  recurrent,  is 
the  sphere  of  science  ;  what  is  personal  and  free  is  the  sphere  of  faith. 

Now  between  these  two  spheres  of  persons  and  of  things,  of  faith  and 
of  science,  and  the  two  kinds  of  movement  in  nature  already  referred  to, 
there  is  a  beautiful  correspondence.  As  there  are  in  astronomy  circular 
and  recurrent  movements  among  the  bodies  of  the  system  which  science 
can  calculate,  and  also  an  absolute  movement  in  space  of  which  science 
can  only  say  that  it  is,  so  is  it  everywhere  in  the  works  of  God.  Every- 
where these  two  movements  are  wonderfully  mingled ;  everywhere 
science  knows  something  of  the  one,  and  nothing  of  the  other,  which  is 
yet  the  great  movement.  Of  all  that  pertains  to  human  life  that  is  fixed 
and  recurrent  science  may  speak,  but  that  flow  of  thought  and  feeling 
and  moral  life  which  is  once  for  all,  and  turns  not  back,  is  not  within  its 
sphere.     It  knows  not  whence  it  cometh,  nor  whither  it  goeth. 

So  that  onward  movement  in  the  march  of  creation,  of  which  I  have 
spoken^  how  grand  it  is  !  how  mysterious  in  its  origin  !  How  inscrutable, 
how  utterly  beyond  the  scojje  of  science  are  its  issues !  Only  after  the 
dethronement  of  chaos,  and  during  the  first  epoch  in  which  there  were 
orderly  arrangements  and  recurrent  movements,  was  science  possible. 
Then  she  might  have  pitched  her  tent,  and  polished  her  glasses,  and 
built  her  laboratory,  and  have  begun  her  observations  and  her  records. 
She  might  have  counted  every  scale  on  the  placoids,  and  every  spot  on 
the  lichens,  and  every  ring  on  the  graptolites,  and  have  analyzed  the  fog 
from  every  standing  pool ;  and  so  have  gone  on  thousands  of  years, 
feeling  all  the  time  that  her  tent  was  a  house  with  stable  foundations, 
and  her  recurring  movements  an  inheritance  forever.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose," she  might  have  said,  "that  this  fixed  order  will  be  broken  up  ?" 
"Do  you  not  see  that  since  the  fothers  fell  asleep  all  things  continue  as 
they  were  ?"  But  that  epoch  came  to  its  close.  The  placoids,  and 
lichens,  and  graptolites,  and  all  the  science  connected  with  tliem,  Avero 
whelmed  beneath  the  surface,  to  be  known  no  more  excei)t  ns  they 
might  leave  their  record  there.     Then  again,  in  the  second  period,  sci- 

20 


30G  MARK    HOPKINS. 

once  might  have  gone  the  same  round,  and  fallen  mto  the  same  infidel- 
ity. And,  indeed,  from  her  own  stand-point  alone,  how  could  she  do 
otherwise  ?  The  circular  movement  can  not  speak  of  that  which  is  to 
end  it.     And  so  it  has  been  through  the  epochs. 

According  to  its  own  records,  the  coming  up  of  the  creation  out  of  the 
past  eternity  has  been  as  the  march  of  an  army  that  should  move  on  by 
separate  stages  with  recruits  of  new  races  and  orders  at  the  opening  of 
each  encampment.  During  those  long  days  of  God  there  was  scope  for 
science,  and  for  a  new  one  in  each.  In  each,  science  could  pitch  the 
tent,  and  forage,  and  perfect  the  arrangement  for  the  encampment;  but 
she  could  not  tell  when  the  tents  were  to  be  struck,  or  where  the  army 
would  march  next.  And  so  the  movement  has  been  onward  till  our 
epoch  has  come,  and  we  have  been  called  in  as  recruits.  And  now  agam 
science  is  busy  with  her  fixed  arrangements  and  recurring  movements  ; 
but  knows  just  as  little  as  before  of  the  rectilinear  movement — of  the 
direction  and  termination  of  this  mighty  march.  It  is  within  this  move- 
ment^ and  not  in  the  sphere  of  science  that  oi^r  great  interest  lies.  Be- 
longing to  arrangements  and  movements  in  this  world,  science  can  do 
much  for  us  in  this  world,  but.  she  can  not  regenerate  the  world,  she  can 
not  secure  the  interests  which  lie  only  in  the  rectilinear  line  of  move- 
ment, and  which  are  "  the  one  thing  needful."  Of  that  movement  we 
can  know  nothing  except  through  faith.  Through  that  we  may  know, 
We  believe  there  is  one  who  has  marshaled  the  hosts  of  this  moving 
army,  and  who  has  the  ordering  of  them,  and  that  he  has  told  us  so 
much  of  this  onward  movement  as  we  need  to  know  ;  and  here  it  is  that 
we  find  that  sphere  of  laith  which  we  say  is  distinct  from  science,  but 
not  opposed  to  it. 

Into  this  sphere,  if  you  have  not  done  so,  we  invite  you,  my  honored 
friends,  to  enter.  We  say  it  is  the  higher  sphere,  and  we  invite  you  to 
come  up  into  it.  You  admit  and  illustrate  a  unity  in  all  fixed  an-ange- 
ments;  why  not  admit  and  study  a  grander  one  in  consecutive  move- 
ments? You  know  one  thing,  we  ask  you  not  to  be  ignorant  of 
another,  without  which  all  other  knowledge  will,  in  the  end,  seem  folly. 
We  ask  you  to  join  to  the  attainments  of  science  the  humility  of  the 
Christian,  his  benevolence  and  high  aims.  We  ask  you  not  only  to  learn 
the  teachings  of  nature,  but  also  to  learn  of  him  who  has  said,  "  Come 
unto  me ;"  who  is  "  meek  and  lowly  of  heart."  Thus,  and  thus  only, 
shall  you  "  find  rest  unto  your  souls."  Here  is  rest ;  here  we  bring  you 
to  knowledge  that  is  permanent.  The  rcKJurring  movements  of  science 
shall  cease.  The  heavens  and  the  earth  "  shall  wax  old  as  a  garment,  as 
a  vesture  shall  God  fold  them  up,  and  they  shall  be  changed,"  but  his 
moral  government  shall  endure,  and  in  the  onward  march  of  that,  what 
scenes  of  awe  and  terror,  what  bright  scenes  of  joy  and  wonder  may 
arise,  no  tongue  can  tell. 

Of  this  onward  movement  we  know  but  in  part,  but  what  we  do  know 


THE     RELATIONS    OF    SCIENCE     AND     RELIGION.      307 

not  only  meets  the  wants  of  our  moral  nature,  but  also  corresponds  with 
the  teachings  of  physical  science.  The  termination  of  this  present  epoch, 
foretold  by  Peter  and  Paul,  who  knew  nothing  of  geology  or  chemistry, 
is  precisely  such  as  geology  shows  has  taken  place  heretofore,  as  chem- 
istry shows  may  readily  take  place  again.  And  then  the  simplicity,  and 
worthiness,  and  moral  grandeur,  of  the  epoch  foretold  as  lying  beyond, 
fully  correspond,  and  more  than  correspond,  with  the  magnificence  of  past 
movements,  as  revealed  by  geology,  and  with  the  terrific  termination  of 
the  present  scenes  which  the  Scriptures  reveal. 

In  these  coming  scenes,  not  only,  as  heretofore,  will  the  fountains  of 
the  great  deep  be  broken  up,  and  the  surgings  of  the  intei'nal  ocean  of 
fire  rend  the  earth,  and  matter  be  unchained  from  its  present  aflinities, 
and  the  electrical  agencies  flash  and  thunder  froui  pole  to  jiole ;  but 
above  the  crash  and  roar  of  the  earthquake,  louder  than  the  thunder, 
shall  be  heard  the  "voice  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God,  and 
the  dead  shall  arise."  "Then  shall  the  Son  of  man  come  in  his  gloiy,  and 
all  his  holy  angels  with  him,  and  he  shall  sit  on  the  throne  of  his  glory. 
And  before  him  shall  be  gathered  all  nations ;  and  he  shall  separate  them 
one  from  another,  as  a  shej^herd  divideth  his  sheep  from  the  goats." 
"  Then  shall  the  wicked  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment,  but  the 
righteous  into  life  eternal."  Then,  according  to  his  promise,  do  we  "  look 
for  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness." 


DISCOURSE    XXI.  I. 

GEORGE     W.     BETHUNE,    D.D. 

This  distinguished  author  and  divine  was  born  in  New  York,  March  IS,  ISOOw 
He  was  the  only  son  of  Mr.  Divie  Bethune,  a  native  of  Eoss-shire,  Scotland,  who 
was  eminent  as  a  merchant,  and  for  his  intelligent,  active  piety,  exerting  his  influ- 
ence at  the  starting  of  almost  every  large  charitable  religious  society.  He  printed, 
or  had  printed,  the  first  religious  tract,  long  before  the  Tract  printing-house ;  im- 
ported'Bibles  for  distribution,  long  before  the  Bible  Society;  was  a  foreign  director 
of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  long  before  any  missionary  society  existed  here ; 
was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  American  Colonization  Society;  and  among  the  very 
earUest  movers  in  the  cause  of  seamen,  long  before  the  Seamen's  Friend  Society. 

His  mother,  Mrs.  Joanna  Bethune,  is  still  living,  in  her  eighty-ninth  year.  Her 
mother  was  the  celebrated  Mrs.  Isabella  G-raham.  Mrs.  Joanna  Bethune  was 
very  active  in  founding  the  Widows'  Society  and  the  Orphan  Asylum,  in  New 
York ,  mtroducing  the  Sunday-school  system,  after  Raikes's  plan,  into  this  country; 
originating  the  first  society  for  helping  poor  women,  through  their  own  industry, 
and  the  Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Industry.  She  also  introduced  the  infant- 
school  system  here. 

Dr.  Bethune  was  converted  in  early  life,  and  united  with  the  Presbyterian  church, 
Carlisle,  Pennsylvania,  under  the  pastoral  care  of  his  brother-in-law.  Rev.  Dr.  Duf- 
field,  having  been  led  to  trust  in  Christ  during  a  remarkable  revival  the  same  year, 
1822,  at  Dickinson  College. 

He  studied  three  years  in  Columbia  College,  New  York,  and  spent  the  last  year 
and  that  of  his  graduation  at  Dickinson  College,  Carhsle.  His  theological  education 
was  received  at  Piinceton  Theological  Seminary,  of  which  his  father  was  one 
of  the  founders. 

He  was  ordained  by  the  Second  Presbytery  of  New  York,  1827,  and  first  settled 
over  the  Reformed  Dutch  church,  Rhinebeck,  Dutchess  county.  New  York.  His 
second  charge  was  assumed  in  1830 :  that  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church  at  Utica, 
which  he  gathered  and  built  up.  This  he  resigned  in  1834,  to  go  to  the  First  Re- 
formed Dutch  church,  Philadelphia,  of  which  he  held  the  pastorate  until  1836.  He 
was  settled,  in  1837,  over  the  Third  Reformed  Dutch  church,  Philadelphia,  which  was 
built  for  him,  and  the  congregation  of  which  he  gathered ;  and  in  1849,  desiring  to  be 
near  his  aged  mother,  he  became  the  stated  supply  of  the  Centi'al  Reformed  Dutch 
church  of  Brooklyn.  In  1851,  he  was  settled  over  the  Reformed  Dutch  church  on  the 
Heights,  Brooklyn,  wliich  had  been  built  for  him,  and  the  congregation  of  which  he 
gathered.  Of  this  church,  now  numbering  over  300  communicants,  he  still  has 
the  pastoral  charge. 


GEORGE     W.     BETHUXE.  309 

Dr.  Bethune  was  oflfered,  by  President  Polk,  the  professorship  of  Moral  Pliiloso- 
phy  and  Chaplaincy  at  the  Military  Academy,  West  Point,  which  he  declined.  He 
was  also  elected  Chancellor  of  the  New  York  University,  1850,  which  he  in  like 
manner  declined. 

He  was,  in  1840,  President  of  the  General  Synod  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  Church 
and  is  now  a  member  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society,  and  of  many  histor- 
ical and  other  hterary  societies,  besides  being  largely  identified  with  the  great 
benevolent  institutions  of  the  day. 

He  is  widely  known  as  the  author  of  many  valuable  pubhcations,  such  as  sermons 
before  the  Foreign  Evangelical  Society,  the  American  Sunday-school  Union,  and 
the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  at  Newark,  1856,  with 
numerous  others  on  different  yubhc  and  special  occasions,  including  some  eighteen 
or  twenty  orations  before  various  Hterary  societies.  His  more  permanent  and 
useful  works  are,  "The  Fruit  of  the  Spirit;"  "Early  Lost,  Early  Saved;"  "The 
History  of  a  Penitent;"  "Lays  of  Love  and  Faith;"  a  volume  of  sermons;  and 
"  Orations  and  Occasional  Discourses,"  published  in  1851.  Several  of  these  works 
are  very  able;  but  the  Doctor  calls  the  "Fruit  of  the  Spirit,"  liis  "pet"  book.  It 
is  a  most  edifying  volume.     He  has  also  edited  several  works. 

Dr.  Bethune  has  one  of  the  largest  private  libraries  in  the  country  (over  5,000 
volumes),  and  he  works  it  with  a  -will.  It  is  especially  rich  in  ancient  and  English 
literature  and  belles-lettres,  of  which  he  is  particularly  fond.  He  is  an  ardent  ad- 
mu-er  of  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art,  and  has  composed  some  gems  of  poetry. 
He  is  one  of  the  most  fervid  yet  chaste  orators  in  the  American  pulpit,  and  his 
written  style  is  eloquent,  and  marked  frequently  by  remarkable  verbal  felicities. 

His  sermons  are  characterized  by  the  prominence  which  he  everywhere  gives 
to  the  doctrines  of  the  cross.  The  last  words  of  liis  dying  father  have  not  been 
forgotten :  "  Preach  the  gospel !  Tell  dying  sinners  of  the  Saviour :  all  the  rest 
is  hut  folly/"  His  discourses  are  also  carefully  prepared,  and  often  highly  elabo- 
rated. In  style  and  movement  they  are  easy,  graceful,  simple,  yet  adorned,  but 
not  with  dazzhng  ornaments.  He  is  a  master  of  rhetoric,  and  applies  his  acquisi- 
tions in  this  department  with  great  advantage.  His  soul  is  in  his  preaching,  and 
not  unfrequently  shows  itself  in  great  vigor  of  gesture  and  action  of  body.  Few 
men,  if  any,  in  the  country,  have  a  wider  reputation  as  a  platform  speaker,  lecturer, 
and  pulpit  orator.  He  has  hundreds  of  appUcations  ui  a  year  to  lecture  before 
Lyceums,  Young  Men's  Christian  Associations,  Literary  Societies,  and  the  like, 
most  of  which,  of  course,  must  be  decUned.  He  is  seldom  absent  from  his  pulpit, 
loves  his  people,  and  is  beloved  as  an  affectionate  pastor. 

Of  the  many  admirable  sermons  of  Dr.  Bethune  which  have  come  under  our 
notice,  no  one  is  more  worthy  of  his  reputation,  than  that  which  is  here  introduced. 
The  opening  is  happy,  the  divisions  natural,  the  peroration  apt  and  impressive,  and 
the  language  and  course  of  thought  throughout  highly  eloquent  and  entertaining. 
A  passage  is  not  often  met  with,  which  is  more  truly  sublime,  than  that  toward  the 
close,  in  which  the  words  occur,  "  Hark  !  the  trumpet !  the  earth  groans  and  rocks 
herself,  as  if  in  tiavail  I  They  rise,  the  sheeted  dead ;  but  how  lustrously  white  are 
their  garments !  how  dazzling  their  beautiful  hoUness,"  etc. 


310 


GEORGE    W.    BETHUNE. 


VICTORY  OVER  DEATH  AND  THE  GRAVE. 

"  0  Death,  where  is  tliy  sting?  0  Grave,  whore  is  thy  victory?  The  sting  of  death  is 
sin ;  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law ;  but  thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  vic- 
tory through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." — 1  GoR.,  xv.  55-57. 

The  sublimity  of  the  text  overpowers  us.  It  is  the  exi;ltation  of  an 
inspired  apostle.  How  shall  we,  weak  and  imperfect  Christians,  dare  to 
take  words  of  such  fearless  joy  upon  our  sinful  lips  ? 

My  brethren,  the  apostle,  inspired  of  God,  speaks  also  as  a  sinner 
saved  by  grace.  The  truth  which  gives  him  all  his  courage,  he  preaches 
for  our  confidence.  His  conquering  Champion,  in  the  fight  with  death 
and  the  grave,  "  was  delivered  for  our  oflenses,  and  was  raised  again  for 
our  justification."  He  exults  as  a  Christian  in  God  the  Saviour,  and  he 
invites  all  who  receive  the  gospel  to  join  in  his  triumphant  faith,  when 
he  exclaims, 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ !" 

It  is,  therefore,  our  privilege  and  our  duty  to  make  the  words  of  the 
text  our  own.  God  strengthen  us,  by  their  holy  teachings,  to  rejoice  in 
the  victory,  and  to  utter  the  thanksgiving  with  our  whole  hearts ! 

The  apostle  has  demonstrated  the  glorious  resurrection  of  the  just  in 
Christ,  by  an  elaborate  argument,  and  states  his  conclusion  as  the  fulfill- 
ment of  Isaiah's  prophecy  (xxv,  5),  that  the  Lord  "  will  swallow  up 
death  in  victory,  and  will  wipe  away  tears  from  off  all  faces."  "  So," 
says  he  (54),  "  when  this  corruptible  shall  have  put  on  incorruption,  and 
this  mortal  shall  have  put  on  immortality,  then  shall  be  brought  to  pass 
this  saying  that  is  written :  '  Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory.' "  His 
pious  soul,  with  that  faith  "which  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for," 
anticipates  the  full  triumph,  now  made  certain  by  the  resurrection  and 
ascension  to  glory  of  Christ  the  Saviour,  the  Life  and  Forerunner  of  his 
church.  He  remembers  the  promise  of  God  by  the  prophet  Hosea 
(xiii.  14) :  "I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the  grave;  I  will  re- 
deem them  from  death :  O  death,  I  will  be  thy  jilagues ;  O  gi-ave,  I  will 
be  thy  destruction  ;"  and  in  a  burst  of  eloquent  exultation,  he  defies  his 
former  enemies :  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting !  O  grave,  where  is  thy 
victory  !"  Thou  hadst  a  sting,  O  death  !  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin  ;" 
and  that  sting  was  deadly.  "The  strength  of  sin  is  the  law;"  but  now 
is  thy  sting  plucked  out,  and  all  its  venom'^turned  into  life.  "  Thanks  be 
to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ !" 

The  natural  division  of  the  text,  and  that  which  we  shall  follow,  is : 
The  Challenge  and  the  Thanksgiving :  I.  The  Challenge  :  "  O  Death, 
where  is  thy  sting  !  O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  !"  II.  The  Thanks- 
giving :  "  Thanks  be  to  God  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ !" 


VICTORY    OVER     DEATH     AND     THE     GRAVE.  311 

Under  the  first  head  we  shall  consider  the  sting  of  death  and  the  vic- 
tory of  the  grave  ;  under  the  second,  the  Christian's  victory  over  them ; 
Avhich  will  include  an  exj^lanation  of  the  intermediate  verse:  "The  sting 
of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law." 

I  The  Ciiallexge: 

"  O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting !  O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory !" 

The  apostle,  following  Ilosea,  and  by  a  strong  figure,  challenges  death 
and  the  grave  separately,  though,  strictly,  they  are  one.  The  victory 
of  the  grave  is  the  consequence  of  the  sting  of  death.  It  is  a  bold  chal- 
lenge to  demand  of  Death,  Where  is  thy  sting  ?  and  of  the  Grave,  Where 
is  thy  victory  ? 

Where  is  the  sting  of  death  ?  Alas !  and  is  it  nothing  to  die  ?  Nothing 
to  be  made  sure  that  we  must  die  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  leave  this  fair  earth, 
the  light  of  the  cheerful  sun,  our  pleasant  homes,  our  loving  friends,  and 
to  be  buried  and  become  as  dust  beneath  the  sod,  and  under  the  shade 
of  the  gloomy  cypresses?  Is  it  nothing  to  close  our  senses  forever  upon 
all  we  have  cherished,  and  sought,  and  hoped  for,  and  prided  ourselves 
in  ?  Is  it  nothing  to  have  the  sad  certainty  before  us  at  all  times,  in  the 
midst  of  our  best  successes,  that  the  hour  is  coming  when  the  cold,  nar- 
row, ignominious  grave,  shall  hide  us  from  them  all?  Tliat  our  plans, 
contrive  them  and  pursue  them  as  we  m^y,  of  ambition,  gain,  knowledge, 
s<;rvice  to  those  who  are  dear,  zeal  for  our  country  and  the  welfare  of 
nianldnd,  must  be  broken  oif,  and  the  brain  which  projected,  the  hand 
\\hich  wrought,  and  the  heart  which  beat  strong,  become  still  as  the 
clod,  and  the  luxury  of  worms?  Is  it  nothing  that  eveiy  step  of  hu- 
manity, the  first  tottering  effbrt  of  the  crowing  child,  the  sportive  spring 
of  youth,  the  firm  tread  of  adult  vigor,  and  the  halt  of  the  old  man,  Ican- 
iiig  upon  his  stafif,  is  to  the  same  vile  end  ?  That  every  hour  of  sleep  or 
activity,  pleasure  or  sorrow,  thoughtfulness  or  gayety,  alike  urges  us 
irresistibly  on?  Is  it  nothing  that  the  blood  shall  be  chilled  at  its  fount- 
ain, and  the  clammy  sweat-drops  start  out  upon  the  forehead,  and  the 
breath  come  slow,  and  in  agony,  and  the  hfe,  clinging  desperately,  be 
torn  aAvay  and  cast  forth  by  fierce  convulsion  ? 

Has  death  no  sting,  when  we  hold  the  beloved,  who  made  life  precious, 
and  the  world  beautiful,  by  so  frail,  brief,  melancholy  a  tenure  ?  Has  it 
no  sting  for  the  yearning  bosom,  from  whose  warm  sanctuary  the  little 
one  has  been  taken,  never  again  to  nestle  sweetly  there  at  waking  morn, 
or  for  the  noon-tide  sleep,  or  in  the  drowsy  evenuig? 

Has  it  no  sting  in  that  "  life-long  pang  a  widowed  spirit  bears  ?"  Has 
it  no  sting  when  the  faces,  which  i-eflected  our  smiles,  and  beamed  back 
upon  us  tenderness,  and  sympathy,  and  flxith,  are  so  changed  that  we 
must  send  them  away  and  bury  them  out  of  our  sight?  Or  when  we 
follow  the  good  man,  the  just,  the  generous,  the  friend  of  the  sorrowful 
and  the  stranger  and  the  poor,  the  wise  teacher  of  truth,  the  advocate 


312  GEORGE     W.     BETHUNE. 

of  right,  and  the  champion  of  the  weak,  to  that  bourne  from  which  he 
will  return  to  bless  the  world  no  more  ?  No  sting  in  death  ?  Is  there 
one  among  us  such  a  miracle  of  uninterrupted  happiness,  so  insensible  to 
others'  grief,  as  not  to  have  felt  its  keen  and  lingering  sharpness? 

Where  is  the  victory  of  the  grave  ?  Where  is  it  not  ?  Power  can 
not  resist  it.  The  kings  of  the  earth  lie  in  "  the  desolate  places  they 
built  for  themselves."  Riches  can  purchase  no  allies  skillful  to  avert  the 
blow.  The  marble  in  its  sculptured  pomp  acknowledges  the  struggle  to 
have  been  in  vain.  There  is  no  discharge  in  this  war  for  wisdom,  or 
youth,  or  virtue,  or  strength.  In  the  crowded  burial-place  they  lie  to- 
gether, smitten  down  by  the  same  hand.  Obscurity  affords  us  refuge. 
The  slave  Mis  beside  his  master,  and  the  beggar  is  slain  by  the  wayside. 
Some  may  maintain  the  fight  a  little  longer,  but  "  the  same  event  hap- 
peneth  imto  all." 

Where  is  the  victory  of  the  grave  ?  What  conqueror  is  so  mighty, 
when  all  conquerors  fight  in  its  battles,  and  then  bow  themselves  to  death 
Anth  their  victims?  The  track  of  its  march  is  cumbered  with  the  wreck 
of  fairest  symmetry,  and  beauty,  and  vigor.  The  entire  generations  of 
past  ages  are  crumbled  into  dust ;  all  the  living  are  following  in  one  vast 
funeral ;  all  posterity  shall  follow  us.  Were  all  the  cries  of  those  who 
have  perished  by  flood,  or  battle,  or  fliraine,  or  fire,  or  sickness,  and  the 
wails  of  the  bereaved  over  their  dead,  crowded  into  one,  the  shriek  would 
shake  the  earth  to  the  center.  Were  all  the  corpses  that  are  crumbling, 
or  have  crumbled  to  dust,  laid  upon  the  surface,  as  the  slain  upon  a  battle- 
field, there  would  not  be  room  for  the  living  among  the  disfigured 
trophies  of  the  conquering  grave,  whicli,  with  the  world  for  its  jmson- 
house,  must  consume  its  captives  to  make  room  for  more.  Where  is  the 
victory  of  the  grave?  The  silence  of  the  dead,  the  anguish  of  the  sur- 
\iving,  the  mortality  of  all  that  shall  be  born  of  mortals,  confess  it  to  be 
universal. 

Yet,  were  there  nothing  beside  this,  the  calamity  would  be  light.  A 
gloomy  anticipation,  a  few  tears,  a  sharp  pang,  and  all  would  be  over. 
We  should  sleep,  and  dream  not.  We  should  forget,  and  be  forgotten. 
l)ut  there  is  more  than  this.  Whence  came  death  ?  Why  must  man, 
with  his  upward-bearing  countenance,  his  vast  affections,  his  far-reaching 
thought,  the  most  fearfully  made  of  all  God's  wonderful  works,  die  ? 
How  came  there  to  be  graves  in  this  decorated  earth,  which  God  looked 
down  upon  with  smiles,  and  pronounced  very  good  ?  My  fellow-children' 
of  the  dust,  God  is  angry  with  us.  None  but  God  coiild  take  the  life 
God  gave,  or  dissolve  what  God  has  made.  God  has  armed  Death  with 
fatal  strength,  and  sent  him  forth,  the  executioner  of  a  divine  sentence, 
the  avenger  of  a  broken  law.  The  victory  of  the  grave  is  the  conquest 
of  justice  over  rebellion.  It  is  omnipotence,  putting  to  shame  and  eter- 
nal defeat  the  treason  of  man  against  his  Maker.  It  is  holiness  con- 
suming the  sinner.     Death  is  God's  wrath,  for  his  favor  is  life. 


VICTORY  OYER  DEATH  AND  THE  GRAYE.    gig 

"  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  Death 
liad  no  sting  for  man,  and  the  grave  no  victory,  till  sin  entered  into  the 
Avorld ;  but  now  "  death  hath  passed  upon  all  men,  for  that  all  have 
sinned."  The  law  of  God,  which  condemns  the  sinner,  gives  Death 
power  to  seize  and  hol<l  Him  fast,  with  all  the  strength  of  God's  yvrath 
against  the  guilty.  Wherever  there  is  sin,  its  wages  are  death.  Wherever 
death  is,  there  must  be  ^in.  Yes!  even  in  thy  death,  thou  sinless,  cru- 
cified Lamb  of  God,  for  thou  didst  bear  the  sins  of  thy  people !  It  is 
enough  that  we  are  mortal,  to  prove  that  we  are  sinnei-s,  and  condemned 
already  by  him  who  declares,  "  the  soul  that  sinneth  it  shall  die."  Does 
anyone  doubt  this?  Let  him  solve  the  question  why  God  slays  his  crea- 
tures. Tht?re  is  no  evading  it.  Man  must  be  a  sinner,  or  his  Maker  a  tyrant. 

Here  is  the  sharpness  of  death's  sting.  It  is  the  evidence  and  punish- 
ment of  sin.  It  is  the  lowering  darkness  of  the  storm  of  wrath,  which 
is  eternal.  It  is  the  hand  of  God  tearing  the  sinner's  shrieking  spirit 
out  of  the  world,  and  dragging  him  to  judgment,  thence  to  be  cast  down 
into  pangs  everlasting ;  while  the  grave  holds  the  body  in  its  unyielding 
grasp,  tiU  the  Son  of  man  comes  in  the  clouds  to  execute  his  final  ven- 
geance upon  each  guilty  soul,  and  its  guilty  instrument  the  polluted 
fiesh.  O  my  hearers,  it  is  the  bitterness  of  death,  that  pleasant  as  sins 
may  be  now,  dedth  will  soon  and  surely  come  ;  and  after  death  the  judg- 
ment, when  every  sin  shall  find  us  out,  and  the  sinner  have  no  excuse, 
nor  plea,  nor  refuge  from  the  flashing  terrors  of  the  inexorable  law  ;  and 
after  the  judgment,  eternal  woe  for  all  the  condemned,  and  a  prison- 
house,  whose  doors  allow  no  escape,  where  remorse  preys  upon  the  soul 
like  a  venomous  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  wrath  of  God  burns  in 
fire  unquenchable.  O  my  God,  what  a  strange  lethargy  must  that  sin- 
ner be  in,  who  feels  not  the  sting  of  death,  but  sleeps  stupidly  on,  dream- 
ing of  lust,  and  gain,  and  pride,  till  death  wakens  him  with  eternal  agony ! 

Here  we  see  the  apostle's  boldness,  the  strength  and  valor  of  Chris- 
tian fiiith  ;  for,  knowing  tliat  he  must  die,  and  the  grave  cover  him,  he 
stands  up  bravely,  and  flings  defiance  in  their  fices : 

"  0  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?     O  Grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?" 

To  learn  the  secret  of  his  courage,  we  must  consider, 

II.  The  Tiianksgivixg. 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ !" 

This,  with  the  preceding  verse,  answers  three  questions :  Whence  is 
the  victory  ?     How  is  it  given  us  ?     In  what  does  it  consist? 

1 :  "  Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory !" 

God  gives  death  its  sting,  and  the  grave  its  victoiy.  So  long  as  God 
arms  and  strengthens  them,  it  is  imjiossiblo  to  resist  them.  They  are 
God's  ministers,  and  in  their  ministry  omnipotent.  Goil,  therefore,  alone 
can  give  us  the  victory,  by  becoming  our  friend.     When  lie  is  our  friend, 


SM  GEORGE     W.     BETHUNB. 

his  ministers,  which  were  our  enemies,  must  be  our  friends  and  servants. 
Thus  the  believer  looks  to  God,  and  relies  wholly  upon  him.  If  there 
be  no  help  from  God,  there  can  be  none.  He  hopes  not  to  desei-ve,  or 
earn,  or  work  the  victory  for  himself.  It  must  be  given  him  by  an  act 
of  free  grace,  sovereign  mercy,  and  redeeming  love.  But  when  God 
comes  to  his  rescue,  his  deliverance  is  certain.  Therefore  he  says, 
"  Thanks  be  to  God  !» 

2.  How  is  the  victory  given  ?  Will  the  sting  remain  with  death  ?  or 
strength  with  the  grave  ?  If  so,  how  will  the  believer  conquer  ?  Will 
God  arm  his  enemies  against  him,  and  yet  fight  for  him  ?  Will  om- 
nipotence contend  with  omnipotence  ?  or  mercy  deliver  the  sinner  whom 
justice  holds  bound  ?  Does  sin  cease  to  be  guilty,  or  the  law  abate  its 
force  ?     Hear  the  apostle  : 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  throitgh  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.'''' 

"  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  Death 
is  the  penalty  of  sin,  and,  while  the  law  condemns  the  sinner,  he  must 
remain  captive  to  death  and  the  grave.  But  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  by 
satisfying  the  law  for  his  peoj^le,  plucked  out  the  sting  of  death,  and 
ravished  the  victory  from  the  grave. 

For  this  the  Son  of  God  became  incarnate,  that,  as  man,  in  the  place 
of  man  the  sinner,  he  might  be  capable  of  suftering  the  punishment  of 
the  law,  which  is  death ;  while  his  indwelling  divinity  gave  to  those 
sufferings  an  infinite  worth.  As  God,  he  had  the  power  to  dissolve  the 
bonds  of  death  ;  but  as  the  Redeemer,  by  his  infinite  atonement,  he  pur- 
chased the  right  to  remit  the  penalty  of  the  law,  which  passed  death 
upon  the  sinner.  He  became  man  to  suffer  ;  he  died  that  man  might 
live.  This  the  apostle  expressly  says  (Heb.,  ii.  9),  that  Jesus  "  was 
made  a  little"  (or,  as  some  read,  a  little  while)  "  lower  than  the  angels 
for  the  suffering  of  death;"  and,  again  (14,  15),  "Forasmuch,  then,  as 
the  children  are  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  also  himself  took  part 
of  the  snme,  that  through  death  he  might  destroy  him  that  had  the 
power  of  death;  that  is,  the  devil  (the  tormentor  of  the  damned  sinner), 
and  deliver  them,  who  through  fear  of  death,  were  all  their  life-time 
subject  to  bondage." 

He  stood  forth  in  our  stead,  to  answer  all  the  demands  of  the  law 
against  us ;  and  the  Sovereign  Lawgiver  accepted  the  substitute,  and 
laid  upon  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all.  Then,  having  for  us  honored  the 
law,  by  a  life  of  perfect  obedience,  and  infinite  mei-it,  he  came  to  the 
passion  of  death.  On  the  cross  he  invoked  the  death  we  deserved,  in 
its  most  cruel  and  shameful  forms.  He  stood  between  the  venomed 
monster  and  us,  and  into  his  heart  death  struck  his  sting  deep,  so  deep 
that  he  could  not  draw  it  forth  again ;  and  losing  all  his  power  to  harm, 
hung  gasping  and  dying  with  the  dying  Saviour,  and  died  in  slaying 
Christ.     In  plain  words,  he  exhausted  the  i:)enalty,  and  satisfied  the  law, 


VICTORY     OVER     DEATH     AND     THE     GRAVE.  315 

and  tlms  deatli  lost  all  its  strength  to  hurt  those  who  by  faith  are  cruci- 
fied Avith  Christ. 

More  than  this,  he  demonstrated  his  victory  over  the  grave.  For 
though  he  Avas  buried,  and  the  stone  rolled  to  the  door  of  the  sepulclier 
in  the  rock,  and  sealed  and  guarded,  and  the  grave  and  the  powers  of 
darkness  struggled  miglitily  to  hold  him  fast,  "  it  was  not  possible  that 
he  could  be  holden  by  them ;"  but,  bursting  the  bars  asunder,  he  drag- 
ged them  forth,  captivity  captive,  making  an  ostentation  of  his  spoils, 
openly  triumphing.  Thus  did  God  the  Father  own  him  as  his  Son,  and 
acknowledge  the  penalty  paid,  the  atonement  complete.  Thus  did  the 
Holy  Spii'it  crown  him  conqueror,  and  anoint  him  Prince  of  Life.  Thus 
did  he  show  himself  to  the  believing  sight  of  his  church,  as  their  tri- 
umi)hant  champion,  Jehovah  their  Righteousness,  and  their  "  Living 
Way"  through  death  and  the  grave,  to  the  glory  on  high. 

But  the  full  manifestation  of  his  triumph  and  ours,  is  kept  for  that  day 
when  the  voice  of  the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God  shall  proclaim 
his  final  coming  to  judgment;  and  all  the  dead,  the  countless  dead, 
whose  dust  is  scattered  over  the  earth,  beneath  the  sea,  and  in  the  very 
air,  shall  stait  to  life  ;  his  redeemed,  glorious  in  beauty,  incorruptible, 
like  his  own  glorified  body,  to  shine  with  him,  his  brightest  ti'ophies, 
forever ;  and  the  wicked,  who  would  not  have  him  to  reign  over  them, 
confounded  and  terrified  by  the  terrible  splendor  of  the  once  crucified 
Jesus,  to  hear  the  sentence  of  death,  Avhose  mortal  agonies  are  eternalj-and 
to  be  cast  down  to  shame  unspeakable,  horror,  and  fiery  torment,  Avhosc 
smoke  shall  rise  forever.  Thus  will  our  Lord  vindicate  his  conquest 
over  death  and  the  grave,  by  compelling  them  to  give  freedom  to  the 
holy  bodies  of  the  redeemed ;  that,  as  Adam  walked  in  Paradise,  body 
and  soul,  a  perfect  man,  they,  in  their  entire  humanity,  may  enter  the 
second  Paradise  of  their  inheritance  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not 
away  ;  and  by  making  them  ministers  of  his  just  vengeance  npon  tlie 
souls  and  bodies  of  all  the  wicked. 

3.  Wherein  does  our  victory,  through  the  Lord  Jesus  Cln-ist,  consist  ? 

"Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ !" 

The  believer  trium|)hs  in  Christ's  perfect  atonement. 

By  faith  he  is  born  again  with  Christ,  and  as  (^Ihrist  became  incarnate 
for  him,  so  is  Christ  formed  in  him,  the  hope  of  glory.  By  faith  he 
o])cys  in  Chi-ist,  walks  with  Christ  in  his  holy  life,  and  through  Chiist 
honors  the  divine  law,  which  before  he  had  broken.  By  faith  he  is 
crucified  with  Christ:  "T  am  crucified  with  Christ,"  says  the  apostle 
(Gal.,  ii.  20).  Every  drop  of  the  bloody  sweat,  every  pang  of  the  lacer- 
ated flesh,  every  agony  of  the  sinking  spirit,  in  Avhich  Christ  poured  out 
his  soul  unto  death,  went  to  pay  his  ])enalty,  and  discharge  him  from 
the  grasp  of  death,  the  e.vecutioner  of  the  law's  vengeance.  For  him 
death  has  no  more  sting.     Death  remains.    Its  precursors,  pain  and  sick- 


31(5  GEORGE    W.     BETHUNE. 

ness  and  infirmity  remain.  But  their  mastery  over  him  exists  no  longer, 
lie  knows  that  they  are  changed.  Tlie  curse  is  changed  to  blessing, 
the  enemies  to  friends.  Pain  and  sickness  and  infirmity  are  noAV  God's 
faithful  chastenmgs;  not  precursors  of  death,  but  of  a  far  more  exceed- 
ing and  an  eternal  weight  of  glory  ;  and  death  is  no  more  death,  but 
life,  life  eternal,  life  exalted  and  heavenly.  The  grave  has  no  victory 
over  him ;  for  there  he  buried  his  sins,  his  sorrows,  his  misery,  lusts  and 
vileness.  He  leaves  his  body  there  to  be  purified  against  the  final  re- 
demption, while  his  soul  goes  free  to  exult  where  it  can  feel  no  shacklC; 
no  warring  law,  nor  foul  temptation.  Thus  he  bears  aflliction  with  pa- 
tient hope,  as  he  would  take  a  medicine  with  the  certainty  of  better 
health,  or  submit  to  surgery,  that  an  inveterate  plague  may  be  eradi- 
cated ;  and  he  calmly  awaits  the  coming  of  death  to  unbolt  his  prison 
door,  knoek  ofi"  his  fetters,  and  lead  him  forth  into  purer  air  and  bound* 
less  delight.  The  sting  of  death  lost  its  power  when  his  sins  were  par- 
doned ;  and  death  itself  waits  like  a  captive  upon  its  Christian  master. 

The  believer  triumphs  in  Christ's  resurrection,  "  I  am  crucified  with 
Christ,  nevertheless  I  live,  yet  not  I,  but  Christ  liveth  in  me,"  says  the 
apostle.  (Galatians,  ii.  20.)  He  was  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins ;  but 
as  the  apostle  reasons  in  Ephesians,  first  and  second  chapters,  he  is  quick- 
ened, together  with  Christ's  body,  by  the  same  Holy  Spirit,  to  a  new  and 
better  life.  He  has  a  divine  life  in  him.  He  is  a  new  man  in  Christ  Je- 
su?;  not  in  body,  for  there  are  natural  causes  which  render  its  dissolution 
necessary  ;  but  a  new  man  in  soul,  strengthened  to  bear  the  burden  and 
resist  the  evil  lusts  of  the  flesh.  Eternal  life  is  begun  in  him,  tain', 
indeed,  as  life  in  the  new-born  babe  ;  but,  more  than  the  earnest,  the  very 
pulsations  of  unmortality.  For  this  is  the  ofiice  and  power  of  Christ,  to 
give  eternal  life  to  as  many  as  receive  him ;  and  this  is  the  privilege  of 
the  Christian,  even  on  earth,  to  have  his  conversation  in  heaven.  Death 
has  lost  its  power  to  divide  him  from  God.  He  soars  upon  the  wings  of 
faith  far  above  and  beyond  the  gloomy  barrier,  enters  the  company  of 
the  church  of  the  first-born,  and  listens  to  the  harpings  of  innumerable 
angels.     Is  not  this  a  victory  over  death  and  the  grave  ? 

The  believer  triumphs  in  the  final  resurrection.  Christ  not  only  arose, 
but  ascended  up  on  high.  There  the  body,  which  was  here  bent  by  sor- 
row, has  been  made  glorious  in  divine  beauty  ;  and  the  countenance,  here 
channeled  by  tears,  bufi:eted  and  spit  upon,  is  altogether  lovely,  the  radi- 
ation of  its  smile,  the  fairest  light  of  heaven  ;  and  the  crown  of  all  power, 
might,  and  dominion,  is  bright  in  the  splendor  of  many  priceless  jewels 
upon  the  brow  scarred  by  the  mocking  thorns ;  and  heaven  rolls  up  its 
waves  of  hallelujahs  to  the  feet,  in  which  the  prints  of  the  nails  perpet- 
uate the  memory  of  the  cross  ;  and  the  hands,  yet  manifesting  the  cruel 
malice  of  men,  are  stretched  forth  to  bless  the  countless  throngs  uttering 
praises  to  the  name  of  Jesus,  the  Lamb  that  was  slain. 

As  the  Redeemer  is  glorified  in  his  flesh,  so  shall  the  believer  be  raised 


VICTORT  OVER  DEATH  AND  THE  GRAVE.    817 

up  to  glory  at  the  last  day.  What  then  to  him,  whose  faitli  can  grasp 
things  hoped  for  and  unseen,  are  all  the  passing  ignominies,  and  pangs, 
and  insults,  which  nowaffiict  the  follower  of  the  man  of  sorrows,  the  Lord 
of  life  and  glory?  Every  revolution  of  the  earth  rolls  on  to  that  fullness 
of  adoption,  "  when  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immoitality,  and  this  cor- 
ruption shall  put  on  incorruption,  and  shall  be  brought  to  pass  this  say- 
ing,' Death  is  swallowed  up  in  victory ;"  when  these  eyes  now  so  dim 
and  soon  to  be  closed  in  dust,  shall  behold  the  face  of  God  in  righteous- 
ness ;  when  these  hands,  now  so  weak  and  stained  with  sin,  shall  bear 
aloft  the  triumphant  palm,  and  strike  the  golden  harp  that  seraphs  love 
to  listen  to  ;  and  these  voices,  now  so  harsh  and  tuneless,  shall  swell  in 
harmony  ineiFable  to  the  song  of  Moses  and  the  Lamb,  responsive  to  the 
Trisagion,  the  thrice  holy  of  the  angels.  Yes,  beloved  Master,  we  see 
thee,  "  who  wast  made  a  little  lower  than  the  angels  for  the  suffering  of 
death,  crowned  with  glory  and  honor ;"  and  thou  hast  promised  that  we 
shall  share  thy  glory  and  thy  crown  ! 

"  Thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ !"  "  Us  !"  And  who  are  included  in  that  sublime  and  mul- 
titudinous plural  ?  "  Not  to  me  only,"  says  the  apostle,  "  but  to  all  them 
that  love  his  appearing."  (2  Tim.,  iv.  9.)  Ye  shall  share  it,  ancient  be- 
lievers, who,  from  Adam  to  Christ,  worshiped  by  figure,  and  under  the 
shadow !  Ye  shall  share  it,  ye  prophets,  who  wondered  at  the  myste- 
rious promises  of  glory  following  suffering !  Ye  shall  share  it,  ye  mighty 
apostles,  though  ye  doubted  when  ye  heard  of  the  broken  tomb  !  Ye, 
martyrs,  Avhose  howling  enemies  execrated  you,  as  they  slew  you  by 
sword,  and  cross,  and  famine,  and  rack,  and  the  wild  beast,  and  flame  ! 
And  ye,  God's  humble  poor,  whom  men  despised ;  but  of  whom  the 
world  Avas  not  worthy,  God's  angels  are  watching,  as  they  watched  the 
sepulcher  in  the  garden,  over  your  obscure  graves,  keeping  your  sacred 
dust  till  the  morning  break,  Avhen  it  shall  be  crowned  with  princely 
splendor  !  Yes,  thou  weak  one,  who  yet  hast  strength  to  embrace  thy 
JMaster's  cross !  Thou  sorrowing  one,  whose  tears  fall  like  raiii,  but  not 
without  hope,  over  the  grave  of  thy  beloved  !  Thou  tempted  one,  who, 
through  much  tribulation,  art  struggling  on  to  the  kingdom  of  God  !  Ye 
all  shall  be  there,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  more  !  Hark  ! 
the  trumpet !  The  earth  groans  and  rocks  herself  as  if  in  travail !  They 
rise,  tlie  sheeted  dead  ;  but  how  lustrously  white  are  their  graments ! 
How  dazzling  their  beautiful  holiness  !  What  a  mighty  host !  They  fill 
the  air  ;  they  acclaim  hallelujahs  ;  the  heavens  bend  with  shouts  of  har- 
mony ;  the  Lord  comes  down,  and  his  angels  are  about  him  ;  and  he 
owns  his  chosen,  and  they  rise  to  meet  him,  and  they  mingle  with  cheru- 
bim and  seraphim,  and  the  shoutings  are  like  thunders  from  the  throne 
— thunderings  of  joy  :  "  O  Death,  Avhere  is  thy  sting  !  O  Grave,  where 
is  thy  victory  I  Thanks  be  to  God  which  giveth  us  the  victory,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ !" 


glQ  GEORGE    W.    BETHUNE. 

Christian,  death  is  before  us.  The  graves  are  thick  around  us,  Tliere 
lie  many  dear — dearer  because  they  are  dead.  We  must  soon  lie  with 
them. 

I  do  not  say,  Suffer  not — Jesus  suffered.  Faith  teaches  no  stoicism. 
But  suffer  like  men  valiant  in  battle,  whose  wounds,  when  they  smart 
the  most,  are  incentives  to  new  courage,  and  earnests  of  future  honor. 

I  do  not  say,  Weep  not — Jesus  wept.  But  sorrow  not  for  the  Chrislian 
dead.  They  are  safe  and  blest.  Weep  for  the  sins  that  unfit  you  to  fol- 
low them. 

I  do  not  say,  Shudder  not  at  the  thought  of  death — Jesus  trembled 
when  he  took  the  cup  into  his  hand,  dropping  with  bloody  sweat.  It  is 
human  nature  to  shrink  from  the  grave.  But  I  can  say,  Fear  not.  Now 
it  is  your  duty  to  live.  When  death  comes,  you.  shall  have  grace  to  die. 
Look  through  the  dark  avenue.  Think  of  the  good  who  are  awaiting 
you  at  home,  in  our  Father's  house  ;  think  of  the  precious  ones  for  whom 
you  weep ;  but  who  weep  no  more.  Fear  not  to  leave  behind  you  the 
living,  whom  you  have  commended  to  Jesus ;  he  will  remember  your 
trust.  Be  ready  to  go  Avhere  you  shall  not  be  unwelcome  to  your  Father, 
your  Saviour,  and  the  family  around  the  throne.  There  await  the  res- 
urrection morning,  when  the  family  shall  be  complete — "  no  wanderer 
lost." 

But  O  !  be  sure  that  you  are  in  Christ ;  that  you  are  covered  by  his 
atonement ;  that  you  have  indeed  received  the  spirit  of  ado2:>tion,  and 
have  put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  Then  may  you  be  sure  of  the 
victory. 

But  O,  my  God,  what  shall  I  say  to  those  who  have  no  fiith  in  thee, 
no  repentance,  no  consideration  ?  They  are  going  down  to  death  and 
the  grave  ;  yet  they  live  and  laugh  on,  as  though  they  were  to  live  here 
forever !  How  shall  I  tell  them  of  the  sting  of  death  !  The  victory  of 
the  grave  !  The  sting  of  eternal  death !  The  grave  of  everlasting  fire  ! 
Speak  thou  tj?>  them,  O  Holy  Spirit !  O  merciful  Saviour !  O  Father, 
pitiful  of  thy  children  !  Turn  them,  draw  them,  compel  them,  to  come 
under  the  wings  of  thy  pardoning  love  !  Spare  them  from  a  hopeless 
death,  an  unsanctified  grave,  judgment  without  an  advocate  in  Christ, 
and  the  bitter  pains  of  body  and  soul  in  hell  forever ! 


DISCOURSE    XXIV. 

ALONZO    POTTER,    D.D.,    LL.ID. 

Bisnop  Potter  was  born  in  Dutchess  county,  New  York,  July  lOtli,  ISOO — the 
son  of  a  farmer  (Joseph  Potter),  whose  ancestors  came  from  England  and  settled 
in  Rhode  Island.  Joseph  emigrated  from  Rhode  Island  to  Dutchess  county,  in 
1795,  and  represented  that  county  in  the  Legislature,  two  or  three  terms.  He  also 
served  in  the  army  of  the  Revolution.  The  son  was  confirmed  and  admitted  to 
first  communion  by  Bishop  White,  early  in  1819,  in  Philadelphia,  and  received  his 
academic  education  in  the  Dutchess  Academy,  Poughkeepsie,  and  graduated  at 
Union  College,  Schenectady.  He  was  ordained  in  1822,  and  the  same  year  became 
Professor  of  Mathematics  and  Natural  Philosophy,  in  Union  College,  where  he  had 
been  previously  tutor.  In  1826  he  became  Rector  of  St.  Paul's  church,  Boston, 
and  resigned  on  account  of  ill  health,  in  1831.  He  then  became  Professor  of  Moral 
Philosophy,  and  acting  Vice-President  of  Union  College,  where  he  continued  till 
184-5,  when  he  was  elected  Bishop  of  Pennsylvania.  He  had,  previous  to  this,  been 
elected  first  President  of  Geneva  College,  and  in  1838,  Assistant  Bishop  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  afterward  Rector  of  Trinity  church,  Boston;  all  of  which  offices  he 
declined.  Similar  overtures  were  made,  formally  or  informally,  from  the  Dioceses 
of  Western  New  York,  and  of  Rhode  Island,  on  their  first  organization — also  from 
St.  Andrew's  church,  Philadelphia,  church  of  the  Ascension,  New  York,  etc.,  etc. 

Bishop  Potter  is  the  author  of  a  work  called  "  The  School,"  being  the  first  half 
of  a  work  entitled  "The  Schoolmaster;"  also  a  volume  entitled  "Science  and  the 
Arts  of  Industry,"  and  another  entitled  "  Political  Economy."  He  also  edited,  with 
Introduction  and  Notes,  "  Paley'S  Natural  Theology,"  "  Bacon  and  Locke's  Essays," 
"  Lieber  on  Property,"  "  Philadelphia  Lectures  on  Evidences,"  etc.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  numerous  official  engagements,  he  has  for  many  years  interested  himself 
deeply  in  the  educational  operations  of  the  country.  His  efforts  in  this  direction 
are  all  highly  appreciated  by  the  educators  of  the  land,  and  are  widely  influential  for 
good. 

In  any  assemblage  of  men.  Bishop  Potter  of  Pennsylvania,  would  be  remarked 
for  his  personal  appearance;  and  should  there  be  occasion  for  the  encounter  of 
mind,  it  would  be  found  that  his  stature  was  no  mean  index  of  his  intellectual 
power.  He  is  over  six  feet  high,  strongly  built,  and  naturally  gifted  with  a  vig- 
orous constitution,  which  has  been  tasked  to  the  uttermost  by  unremitting  literary 
and  episcopal  labors.  His  head  is  massive;  his  hair  iron-gray  ;  his  forehead  broad 
and  well  developed ;  with  a  physiognomy  indicative  of  firmness.  His  bearing  in 
the  pulpit,  and  in  the  discharge  of  his  functions,  is  unaffected  and  dignified ;  and 
even  in  social  life  there  is  something  of  reserve  mingled  with  simplicity  and  court- 


320  ALONZO     POTTER. 

■esy  of  manner.  As  an  effective  speaker,  he  holds  the  first  rank  in  the  House  of 
Bishops,  and  his  argument  in  the  General  Convention  of  1836,  in  behalf  of  the  late 
Bishop  of  Pennsylvania,  has  beer  characterized  by  competent  judges,  as  worthy  of 
Daniel  Webster  in  his  best  days. 

Bishop  Potter  gives  one  the  idea  of  a  man  who  neither  trifles,  nor  is  to  be  trifled 
with ;  who  unites  large  sympathies  to  large  experience  of  life ;  and  for  whom  Ter- 
ence's words  might  stand : 

"Homo  sum;  liv.mani  nihil  d  me  alienum  puto." 

The  discourse  which  Dr.  Potter  has  furnished  for  this  work,  is  a  fair  index  of  his 
pulpit  productions ;  clear,  solid,  finished,  and  effective.  It  contains  some  thoughts 
which  are  quite  original  and  striking,  upon  a  subject  of  great  and  vital  impcrtance. 


TllE  INTERNAL  CREDENTIALS  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

"  All  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God." — 2  Tim.,  iii.  16. 

The  Bible  was  never  more  widely  or  industriously  circulated,  and  yet 
never  perhaps  was  its  proper  influence  and  authority  in  more  imminent 
danger.  Among  its  most  subtle  and  untiring  foes  are  many  who  cal] 
t?iemselves  Christians,  and  who  add  to  zeal  the  most  fervent,  consuaa- 
mate  ability  and  learning.  Not  they  alone  who  deny  altogether  the 
inspiration  or  credibility  of  the  Bible  are  to  be  met.  They  who  admit 
it  to  a  jiartial  but  divided  sway ;  they  who  would  supersede  some  of  its 
records  by  the  teachings  of  science  or  the  conclusions  of  a  speculative 
philosopliy ;  they  again  who  would  exalt  to  the  same  divine  honors  the 
teachings  of  the  church — all  these  are  to  be  encountered.  Assumptions 
which,  sixty  years  since,  might  be  regarded  as  part  and  parcel  of  the 
Protestant  mind  in  every  Anglo-Saxon  land,  can  not  be  so  regarded 
now.  These  assumptions  in  behalf  of  holy  Scripture,  are  arraigned  on 
one  hand  at  the  bar  of  a  high  philosophy;  on  another,  at  the  bar  of  ven- 
erable tradition,  so  that  he  who  would  match  himself  against  some  of 
the  mightiest  leaders  of  thought  in  our  time,  leaders  whose  writings  are 
spread  abroad  A^ith  indefatigable  industry,  M'ill  have  to  go  back  more 
than  ever  to  the  uncorrupted  Word.  He  must  review  it  in  the  light  of 
these  new  assaults  upon  its  integrity  and  supreme  authority.  He  must 
remember  how  insidiously  it  may  be  undermined,  through  a  skepticism 
Avhich  clothes  itself  in  the  guise  of  reverence  and  voluntary  liumility, 
and  how  this  most  captivatmg  form  of  unbelief  is  even  now  going  forth 
under  the  auspices  of  a  great  communion,  which  we  fondly  desire,  but 
can  hardly  hope,  to  see  reformed.  From  the  ranks  of  our  own  clergy, 
and  from  those  of  our  Anglican  mother,  that  communion  recruits  its 
,  decaying  strength  with  minds  of  no  mean  capacity,  and  it  is  not  to  be 


THE    INTERNAL    CREDENTIALS    OP    THE    BIBLE.        321 

doubted  that  the  prevailing  attraction,  witli  most  of  them,  is  the  fond 
desire  to  add  to  the  unerring  Avord  an  unerring  hiterpreter.  The  work 
of  defection  still  goes  on,  and  who  shall  stay  it  but  they  who  have  gained 
for  themselves,  that  they  may  impart  to  others,  clearer  and  stronger 
views  of  the  claims,  credentials,  contents,  and  capabilities  of  that  one 
book,  which  in  each  of  these  respects,  is  high  and  j^aramouut  above  all 
other  ora,cles,  written  or  oral,  living  or  dead  ? 

For  the  Bible  has  the  strongest  credentials,  oven  from  its  enemies,  in 
the  impotence  of  their  attempts  to  overthrow  its  credibility  and  divine 
authority.  No  book  exer  had  so  many  points  of  contact  with  the  human 
mind  as  Scripture ;  and  if  false,  therefore,  none  was  ever  so  vulnerable. 
Miscellaneous  in  its  contents,  the  work  of  many  different  minds  who 
were  unconnected  and  unacquainted  with  each  other — composed  in  dif- 
ferent languages,  and  at  periods  that  stretch  back  from  St.  John  to 
Moses,  through  sixteen  hundred  years — embracing  history,  jurispru- 
dence, ethics,  poetry,  pro2')hecy,  with  manifold  allusions  to  the  physical 
and  topograjjliical  state  of  different  countries  and  of  the  earth  at  large, 
it  seems  to  invite  the  scrutiny  of  every  class  of  scholars  and  philoso- 
phers. It  can  be  compared  with  profane  history.  It  can  be  compared 
with  the  story  told  by  moldering  ruins.  It  can  be  compared  with  the 
inscriptions  on  half-defliced  medals.  It  can  be  compared  with  the  sculj)- 
tured  or  painted  figures  on  towering  pyramids,  with  the  disinterred 
remains  of  buried  cities ;  with  the  cemeteries  of  dead  races  that  encircle 
the  whole  earth,  with  calculated  motions  of  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars. 
Have  these  comparisons  been  made  ?  Have  they  been  made  by  men, 
able,  acute,  learned,  and  in  many  instances  hostile  to  revelation  ?  In 
each  case,  where  any  thing  like  a  full  and  fair  conclusion  was  reached, 
has  it  been  on  the  whole  favorable  to  this  depository  of  our  faith  ?  Then 
may  we  chei'ish  the  assurance  that  what  has  been,  will  be.  New  inves- 
tigations shall  result  in  new  and  independent  A^erifications,  Philology, 
Ethnology,  Archseology,  Numisjnatics,  Physiology,  History,  Physics, 
each  l)y  its  own  proper  methods  shall  reach  conclusions  which  tend  more 
and  more  to  corroborate  revelation,  so  that  the  time  shall  at  length 
come,  when  through  an  improved  biblical  interpretation  on  the  one  hand, 
and  more  thorough  critical  and  scientific  exploration  on  the  other.  Sci- 
ence and  Scripture  shall  become  clearly  accordant,  and  the  strains  that  go 
up  from  the  temple  of  nature  shall  mingle  and  blend  sweetly  with  those 
that  go  up  from  the  temple  of  grace,  and  all  be  lost  in  the  one  swelling 
chorus,  "  Great  and  marvelous  are  thy  works.  Lord  God  Almighty ;  just 
and  true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  saints." 

But  let  us  examine  now  the  Contents  of  Scripture,  as  evidence  of  ita 
divine  origin.  The  history  of  its  canon,  the  judgment  of  the  church,  the 
consent  of  ages  and  nations  most  eminent  for  intelligence  and  virtue,  and 
the  futility  hitherto  of  all  attempts  to  overthrow  its  authority,  or  per- 
manently to  arrest  its  progress — these  may  proclaim  that  it  comes  from 

21 


322  ALONZO     POTTER. 

heaven,  and  yet  its  contents  may  go  for  to  weaken  that  conclusion.  Books 
and  writings  always  afford  some  clew  to  their  origin,  whether  it  be  ia 
wisdom  or  folly,  in  force  or  feebleness.  There  are  internal  credentials 
not  less  convincing,  and  perhaps  more  impressive,  than  any  that  are  ex- 
ternal. When  a  book  is  the  offspring  of  true  genius,  it  attests  the  fact 
by  the  spell  which  it  casts  upon  our  hearts.  So  if  its  source  be  divine, 
it  must  bear  on  every  page  traces  of  his  hand,  who  is  the  head  over  all 
things  to  the  church. 

We  are  not  mthout  intuitive  notions  and  spontaneous  tendencies  which 
lead  us,  independently  of  revelation  or  formal  teaching  of  any  kind,  to- 
ward the  idea  of  an  intelligent  First  Cause,  and  which  enables  us  to 
discern  in  nature,  and  in  our  own  souls,  traces  of  his  infinite  perfections. 
Hence  we  have  pre-existent  ideas  and  great  first  principles,  which  pre- 
pare and  predispose  us  to  welcome  a  book  claiming  to  be  from  God ; 
and  wdiich  enable  us  to  try  its  claims  by  outward  and  by  inward 
criteria, 

No  conception  of  God  meets  the  real,  though  ever  so  much  suppressed, 
wants  and  cravings  of  the  human  mind,  but  that  which  represents  him 
as  infinitely  good  and  infinitely  holy.  Hence,  when  alleged  miracles 
come  before  us,  to  authenticate  the  commission  of  one  who  claims  to  be 
our  teacher  in  religion,  we  may  at  once  judge  whether  they  are  from 
Satan  or  from  God.  A  house  divided  against  itself  can  not  stand ;  and 
we  thej'efore  conclude,  that  if  the  miracle  be  wrought  or  the  prophecy 
tittered  and  fulfilled,  to  recommend  and  enjoin  high  moral  duties  which 
commend  themselves  to  every  conscience  not  wholly  seared  or  besotted, 
or  if  they  are  employed  as  harbingers  to  introduce  one  whose  doctrine  is 
worthy  of  God's  eternal  power  and  majesty — then  in  such  case  the  mir- 
acle and  the  accompanying  iiistruction  ai-e  to  be  owned,  not  as  diabolical, 
but  as  divine. 

So  when  we  separate  from  Scripture  its  record  of  miracles  and  proph- 
ecies, and  confine  our  attention  to  the  simple  matter  taught  or  to  the 
manner  of  teaching,  both,  if  the  book  were  really  given  by  inspiration  of 
God,  must  stand,  in  some  sense,  self-authenticated.  In  such  a  book,  we 
anticipate  that  its  style  and  structure,  its  prhiciples  and  revelations,  shall 
be  at  once  natural  and  supernatural ;  natural,  so  far  as  to  violate  no 
deep-rooted  and  healthy  sentiment  of  our  minds,  to  misrepresent  no  well- 
established  truth  or  law,  and  yet  supei-natural  because  recording  facts, 
and  inducing  impressions,  and  unfolding  plans  which  no  human  intel- 
ligence could  give  birth  to.  On  comparison  with  all  other  books,  ancient 
or  modern,  the  Bible,  if  divine,  should  vindicate  its  transcendent  power 
and  greatness,  and  should  compel  from  all  gifted  souls,  not  perverted  by 
pride  or  darkened  by  sinful  passions,  the  admission  that  the  Spirit  that 
designed  and  the  power  that  achieved  it,  could  have  sprung  from  no 
earthly  or  human  source. 

And  is  not  such  its  character?    Is  not  that  book  a  phenomenon,  which 


THE    INTERNAL    CREDENTIALS     OF    THE    BIBLE.     323 

can  find  adequate  explanation  only  in  the  pi-esence  and  agency  of  God  ? 
Is  it  not  a  volume  which,  from  title-page  to  colophon,  seems  written  over 
and  over,  with  a  divine  and  heavenly  signature  ?  Look  at  its  human 
authors,  herdsmen  and  shepherds,  fishermen  and  publicans,  men  who 
wrote  without  even  ordinary  art  or  learning,  and  often  in  the  rudest  style ; 
and  yet,  where  among  the  great  poets  and  philosophers  of  antiquity, 
those  masters  of  language  and  models  of  taste,  find  Ave  such  burning 
words,  such  expanding  and  soul-enrapturing  concejjtions.  Or,  to  place 
the  comparison  on  other  grounds,  range  side  by  side  the  writings  of  the 
apostles  in  the  New  Testament,  and  those  which  have  come  down  to  us 
as  Avorks  of  apostolic  fathers,  cotemporaries  and  companions  of  those 
apostles — and  who  does  not  feel  that  the  one  repose  upon  a  serene  height, 
from  which,  to  reach  the  other,  there  is  a  descent  as  great  as  it  is  sud- 
den and  abrupt  ? 

Minds  of  the  most  opposite  tempei's  and  tastes  have  found  themselves 
constrained  to  confess,  that  Avhen  thoughtfully  perused  for  a  few  hours, 
there  is  in  this  Book  of  books  a  spell  Avhich  attests  its  origin  to  be  un- 
earthly. "  Read  to  me,"  said  the  dying  poet,  the  mighty  wizard  of  the 
north,  who  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  held  the  reading- 
world  of  both  hemispheres  in  rapt  delight  with  the  offspring  of  his  teem- 
ing brain.  "  Read  to  me."  "  In  what  book  ?"  was  the  question.  "  Can 
you  ask  ?  there  's  but  on:e,"  and  he  bade  him  open  the  Gospel  of  St. 
John.  Says  Calvin,  a  mind  hoAV  different  in  type,  addressing  scoffers  and 
unbelievers,  "John,  thundering  from  his  sublimity,  more  powerfully  than 
any  thunderbolt,  levels  to  the  dust  the  obstinacy  of  those  whom  he  does 
not  compel  to  the  obedience  of  faith.  Let  all  those  censorious  critics, 
whose  supreme  pleasure  consists  in  banishing  all  reverence  for  the  Scrip- 
ture out  of  their  own  hearts  and  the  hearts  of  others,  come  forth  to  pub- 
lic view.  Let  them  read  the  Gospel  of  John  ;  Avhether  they  wish  it  or 
not,  they  there  will  find  numerous  passages,  which  will  at  least  arouse 
their  indolence;  and  which  will 'even  imprint  a  horrible  brand  on  their 
consciences  to  restrain  their  ridicule." 

There  is  one  characteristic  of  Scripture  that  deserves  an  am])ler  de- 
velopment than  has  yet  been  given  to  it.  I  refer  to  the  intrinsic,  and 
even  monstrous  improbability  of  many  of  the  facts  recorded,  and  many 
of  the  predictions  made,  if  Ave  are  to  explain  them  on  principles  merely 
natural ;  and  the  absurdity,  therefore,  of  supposing  that  those  Avho  Avrote 
of  their  own  mere  motion,  could  have  invented  them,  or  Avould  have 
asked  for  them  the  faith  and  affections  of  mankind.  On  the  other  hand, 
try  these  alleged  facts  and  predictions  by  a  divhie  and  supernatuial  stand- 
ard, and  they  become  not  only  conceivable,  but  probable.  "  It  it  im- 
possible, and  therefore  true,"  said  Tertullian,  speaking  of  the  resurrection 
of  Christ,  i.  e.,  impossible  to  any  power  but  that  of  God,  and  therefore 
impossible  that  men,  not  idiots,  Avho  Avrote  from  the  dictates  of  mere 
reason,  and  for  purposes  of  imposture,  could  have  invented  that  Avhich 


324  ALONZO     POTTER. 

"was  so  essentially  incredible.  This  principle  admits  of  extension  to  a 
large  portion  of  the  sacred  narrative,  and  in  connection  with  the  moral 
and  doctrinal  test,  which  I  have  noticed  already,  constitutes  one  of  the 
strongest  guaranties  for  its  fidelity  to  truth.  Events  and  sayings,  the 
most  strange  to  our  natural  ears,  are  recorded  without  one  word  of  com- 
ment, and  with  perfect  simplicity.  Even  when  they  involve  that  which 
is  most  discreditable  to  the  writers  themselves,  or  to  the  nation  of  which 
they  are  a  bigoted  and  enthusiastic  part,  they  are  still  set  down  without 
any  attempt  at  extenuation  ;  and  in  the  case  of  the  Old  Testament,  these 
records  when  once  made,  though  throughout  their  whole  extent  they 
compromise  that  nation  grievously,  are  yet  preserved,  and  guarded,  and 
cherished  by  them  with  a  care  almost  fanatical.  Here,  then,  is  a  branch 
of  Christian  evidences  most  worthy  of  our  study  at  this  time,  when  the 
external  or  historical  proofs  are  assailed  alike  by  the  advocates  of  au- 
thority, and  the  votaries  of  a  licentious  freedom ;  but  it  can  be  duly 
studied  only  by  him  who  reads  the  Bible  with  all  care  and  diligence  for 
himself 

If  we  look  at  Scripture,  again,  as  a  threefold  revelation,  first,  of  God 
to  man,  second,  of  man  to  himself,  and  third,  of  nature  in  its  relation  to 
both,  we  shall  meet  other  and  more  striking  proofs  of  its  divine  origin. 

Consider  holy  Sci'ipture  then  as  a  revelation  of  God  to  man.  When 
the  learned  Grotius  would  lay  a  secure  foundation  for  the  Law  of  Nations, 
in  that  great  work  of  his,  which  maybe  said  to  have  created  a  new  science, 
he  began  by  gathering  from  the  sages  and  poets,  the  historians  and  orators, 
the  lawgivers  and  moralists  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  a  consensus  of 
l^assages,  which  recognize  certain  first  principles  of  moral  obligation,  cer- 
tain fundamental  and  sacred  duties  as  binding  everywhere  and  in  all 
ages,  and  which  are  to  be  accepted  therefore  as  the  universal  dictate  of 
reason  and  conscience.  He  thus  demonstrates,  that  deep  in  human  na- 
ture itself  has  been  j^lanted  one  great  law,  which  is  obligatory  not  only 
upon  individuals,  but  upon  nations  regarded  as  moral  persons,  and  which 
can  never  be  rightly  superseded  by  custom  or  by  positive  institutions — ■ 
a  law  before  which  power  in  all  its  might  and  majesty  is  bound  to  bow, 
and  under  the  shelter  of  which  weakness  and  innocence  may  always  claim 
sanctuary.  I  need  hardly  add,  that  the  principles,  thus  laboriously  col- 
lected out  of  the  best  wisdom  of  the  past,  are  only  a  faint  outline  of  that 
better  law,  which  we  find  traced  in  our  Bibles,  thus  showing  that  the 
commandments  of  Christ  are  re-echoed  in  the  laws  of  our  own  moral 
constitution.  Would  it  not  be  a  boon  to  Theology,  if  a  similar  course 
were  taken  with  resj^ect  to  the  first  principles  of  that  science ;  if  from 
those  great  intellectual  lights,  who  have  lived  and  labored  without  the 
Bible,  were  collected  their  best  thoughts  respecting  the  divine  nature, 
whether  such  thoughts  came  to  them  from  tradition,  or  were  imparted  to 
them  directly  as  a  reward  for  severe  meditation  and  .self-discipline,  or 
broke  upon  their  view,  when  their  souls  were  most  sorely  tried  by  dan- 


THE    INTEENAL    CREDENTIALS     OF     THE     BIBLE.      325 

ger,  suffering  or  temptation?  Sucli  a  collection  would  represent  the 
universal  religious  sentiment  of  mankind  in  its  noblest  and  purest  mani- 
festations when  left  without  direct  revelation,  and  together  with  our  own 
intuitions  and  irrepressible  convictions,  would  furnish  a  test  by  which  we 
could  measure  the  probable  value  of  Scripture  as  an  exponent  of  the  di- 
^dne  character. 

But  to  apply  this  test  thoroughly,  requires  a  large  and  most  thought- 
fill  consideration  of  all  that  the  Bible  directly  or  indirectly  teaches  of 
God — of  his  personality  as  opposed  to  pantheism — of  his  unitj'^  as  op- 
l)Osed  to  polytheism — of  his  holiness  as  loathing  sin — of  his  mercy  and 
long-suffering  as  pitying  the  sinner,  and  of  the  wondrous  blending  of 
wisdom,  goodness,  justice,  and  mercy,  which  is  seen  in  all  his  dispensa- 
tions. It  requires,  too,  a  patient  comparison  of  such  teachings  with  the 
best,  the  average  and  the  worst  on  the  same  subjects,  which  have  ema- 
nated from  the  heathen  mind.  No  candid  student  could  make  that  com- 
parison, without  rising  from  it  with  conceptions  of  the  greatness  and. 
excellency  of  Scripture,  which  he  never  enjoyed  before,  without  feeling 
that  if  Socrates  and  Plato  spake  of  God  as  became  sages,  Moses  and  the 
prophets,  Chiist  and  his  apostles,  speak  of  him  as  becometh  God  himse'i^ 
when  addressing  men.  Uninspired  poetry,  in  its  loftiest  flights,  un- 
aided philosophy,  in  its  most  unearthly  7noods,  how  faint  the  glimmer  of 
their  light,  beside  the  blaze  of  glory  which  breaks  from  David  and  Isaiah 
— from  Job  and  Ezekiel !  Compare,  for  instance,  the  divinities  of  the  Iliad 
with  the  Jehovah  of  the  Old  Testament,  or  compare  the  invisible  world 
of  Virgil,  which  no  Bible  helped  him  to  conceive,  with  that  portrayed 
by  Miltou  or  by  Dante.  If  it  be  said  that  through  the  vast  mass  of  fable 
and  conjecture,  collected  by  pagan  minds,  may  be  found  scattered,  con- 
fusedly and  dimly,  the  same  views  of  God  which  are  presented  by  Moses 
and  the  prophets,  and  that  therefore  these  last  may  have  been  borrowed, 
then  we  ask  whence  the  instinct  Avhich  enabled  such  men,  and  they  only, 
to  choose  the  gems  and  reject  the  refuse ;  to  bring  together  all  the  pure 
gold,  and  leave  behind  all  the  dross  and  all  the  baser  metal.  To  select, 
under  such  circumstances,  requires  as  much  of  inspiration  as  to  conceive 
or  invent. 

When  by  such  considerations,  in  connection  with  others,  w^e  become 
convinced  of  the  supremacy  and  divinity  of  Scripture,  how  readily  may 
we  accept  its  more  mysterious,  its  awfully  sublime  revelations  respecting 
the  threefold  personality  of  God — the  wonderful  union  of  the  divine  and 
human  in  him,  who  is  both  Son  of  God  and  Son  of  man  ;  the  humiliation 
of  a  Being  so  august — his  passion  and  death,  his  resurrection  and  ascen- 
sion, with  the  outpouring  of  his  Spirit — all  that  we  might  not  perish. 
Our  hearts  cry  out  that  we  need  such  a  divine  redemption,  and  our  con- 
science and  our  experience  accord  with  the  declarations  of  the  Bible, 
that  if  we  would  see  God  aright  in  this  wondrous  manifestation  of  him- 
self^  we  must  be  born  again — -must  become  pure  in  heart — must  be  meek 


g26  ALONZO    POTTER. 

and  lowly — must  be  content  to  do,  in  faith  notbing  doubting,  the  whole 
will  of  Christ.  There  is  nothing  more  characteiistic  of  Scripture,  be- 
cause there  is  nothing,  in  one  sense,  more  alien  from  our  natural  habit  of 
thought,  yet  nothing  more  in  harmony  with  our  highest  reason,  and 
therefore  nothing  more  indicative  of  a  superhuman  origin — than  this 
stress  which  the  Bible  everywhere  lays  upon  the  development  of  a  regen- 
erated consciousness,  upon  the  presence  in  the  heart  of  a  strong  con- 
scientiousness, and  an  humble  fear  of  God — as  the  indispensable  condition 
of  the  highest  Christian  knowledge. 

But,  again,  we  may  consider  the  Bible  as  a  revelation  of  man  to  him- 
self. There  are  depths  in  our  own  nature  which  no  consciousness  hag 
yet  sounded ;  there  are  incongruities  and  contradictions,  before  which 
man's  philosophy,  though  it  has  watched  and  discussed  for  near  six 
thousand  years,  is  confounded.  All  the  systems  that  have  been  framed 
by  man's  device,  have  failed,  because  they  overlooked  some  essential 
element  in  the  human  constitution,  or  because  they  misconceived  the  true 
end  and  highest  good  of  life.  Even  those  which  have  been  constructed 
by  men  who  read  the  Bible,  have  rarely  had  the  amplitude  or  the  fidel- 
ity to  truth,  which  could  satisfy  our  minds.  He  Avho  studies  the  Bible 
as  a  portraiture  of  human  nature,  will  soon  feel  that  for  penetrating 
motives  and  revealing  unconscious  propensities — for  touching,  with  bold 
and  skillful  hand,  the  master-springs  of  human  action  in  g-neral,  and  the 
twisted,  comj)licated  web  of  influences  that  surround  each  one  in  pai'tic- 
ulai" — ^the  myriad- minded  of  our  own  language  and  the  greatest  masters 
of  other  languages  and  other  times  are  as  pigmies.  Collect  all  that  has 
been  well  and  wisely  said  of  the  best  poets  and  moralists  as  pahiters  of 
man,  or  of  the  protbundest  psychologists  and  metaphysicians,  or  of  the 
most  sagacious  and  truthful  historians,  and  it  will  be  seen  by  those  who 
have  studied  holy  Scripture  thoroughly,  that  all  this,  and  more,  is  true 
of  that  one  volume.  And,  therefore,  it  is  in  part,  that  while  other  books 
have  been  bounded  in  their  influence,  by  country,  by  race,  or  by  civil- 
ization, the  Bible  seems  to  be  free  of  all  lands,  races,  and  estates  of  men. 
Other  writings  have  succeeded  in  gaining  an  imperial  sway  over  the 
woi'ld  only  for  some  specific  purpose,  as  the  classics  for  beauty,  natural 
philosophers  for  knowledge ;  but  here  is  a  volume  which  is  at  once  a 
classic,  a  history,  a  philosophy,  a  collection  of  divine  hymns,  a  code  of 
universal  morals,  and  in  each  capacity  it  holds  the  mirror  up  to  nature, 
as  is  done  in  no  book  besides.  Dante  has  been  styled  the  priest  of  the 
Catholicism  of  the  middle  ages.  The  Bible  is  the  organ  of  the  Cathol- 
icism of  all  ages  and  of  all  people.  Its  voice  gives  meet  utterance  and 
articulation  to  the  highest  conceptions  and  desires  of  the  enlightened, 
while  it  is  at  the  same  time  joy  and  strength  to  the  rude  and  unlettered. 
It  is  the  book  to  which  the  child  takes  soonest,  and  clings  the  closest. 
It  is  the  book  to  which  manhood  in  its  prime — in  the  fullness  of  its  active 
strength,  its  far-reaching   thoughtfuluess — mstinctively  seeks,  when   it 


THE     INTERNAL    CREDENTIALS    OF    THE     BIBLE.      307 

would  gain  the  liighest  wisdom  or  the  surest  solace.  Its  appeals  ring, 
like  a  trumpet  summons,  on  the  heart  and  conscience  of  all  who  are 
alive  to  duty  or  to  the  soul's  eternal  weal;  and  when  we  reach  the 
evening  of  our  life,  or  stand  on  the  vei'ge  of  the  eternal  world,  then  it  is 
that  the  still  small  voice  of  this  same  word  is  all  our  stay.  What 
hoarded  wealth,  then,  does  it  not  contain?  IIow  Uttle  of  that' wealth 
has  yet  become  theirs,  who  are  its  most  devoted  students.  What  a  duty 
binds  us,  as  ministers  of  God,  to  gain,  through  intimate  and  Hving  com- 
munion with  its  pages,  the  divine  art  of  giving  the  "  word  in  season,"  to 
those  of  every  class  whom  we  would  know  at  last  as  "  our  joy  and 
crown." 

Thij?  theme  is  too  large  for  an  occasion  like  this.  It  would  need  vol- 
umes to  show  how  true  to  man's  universal  nature  the  Bible  is ;  how  it 
speaks  to  every  faculty  and  through  every  faculty;  how  there  is  no  con- 
stituent element  in  our  complex  being  which  it  does  not  discern  and  own 
as  legitimate,  while  it  points  to  each  as  disfigured  by  sin.  The  grand 
problems  before  which  man's  Avit  has  stumbled,  it  solves  with  an  ease  and 
simplicity  only  surpassed  by  its  originality.  Is  it  the  question,  for  example, 
which  divided  so  long  the  ethical  sages  of  old,  touching  the  simininm 
honnm^  the  chief  good  of  man  '?  Some  held  that  it  must  be  in  the  mind, 
others  in  the  outward  estate,  others  in  both  combined.  Christ  goes  up  into 
a  mountain,  and  when  he  was  set,  his  disciples  came  unto  him,  and  he 
opened  his  mouth  and  taught  them  saying,  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit^ 
for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Blessed  are  the  meek.,  for  they  shall 
inherit  tJie  earth.  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart.,  for  they  shall  see  God. 
Nothing  could  seem  more  strange  or  paradoxical  to  the  world  as  it  then 
was,  than  teaching  like  this ;  and  yet  Bayle  the  skeptic  admits,  that  its 
wisdom  is  corroborated  by  the  whole  history  and  experience  of  mankind. 
Or  do  we  consider  again  the  contrarieties  in  our  human  nature,  the  mag- 
nanimity and  the  meanness,  the  lofty  promises  and  the  slim  performance, 
the  perverse  moral  eye  that  can  see  motes  in  others  and  overlook  the 
beam  in  ourselves ;  the  resolving  and  re-resolving  and  yet  living  un- 
changed; tlie  heart  that  honors  virtue,  and  the  hand  that  perpetrates 
sin ;  the  intellect  that  will  not  be  content  unless  it  asks  for  truth,  and 
the  affections  that  shrink  from  that  truth  lest  they  be  reproved  ?  AVould 
M'e  find  the  key  to  this  vast  enigma  ?  It  is  all  supplied  in  one  utterance 
of  this  divine  oracle:  God  made  man  upright.,  hut  they  have  sought  out 
many  inventions.  Or  look  we  at  ourselves,  so  full  of  sin,  at  God  so 
awful  in  holiness,  and  does  our  trembling  spirit  cry  out:  "Wherewith 
shall  we  come  before  the  Loi'd  ?"  There  is  breathed  forth,  even  from 
the  Old  Testament,  the  words  of  hope :  "  O  man,  what  doth  the  Lord 
require  of  thee  but  to  do  justly,  to  love  mercy,  and  to  Avalk  humbly  with 
thy  God  ?"  Again,  however,  does  conscience,  taught  of  enlightened 
reason,  insist  on  inquiring,  how  man  the  guilty,  can  be  just  with  God 
the  holy  ?     Lo !  strains  of  a  sweeter  and  better  promise  I'ise  and  swell^ 


S28  ALONZO     POTTER. 

iintil  in  one  grand  symphony  we  hear :  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  which 
taketh  axoay  the  sins  of  the  world.  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth 
from  all  sin.  If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  Advocate  vnth  the  Father, 
Jesus  Christ  the  righteous.  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 

In  one  word,  the  Bible  has  a  balm  for  every  wound,  a  medicine  for 
every  sickness.  What  Hooker  has  said  so  nobly  of  the  Psalms,  is  truer 
still  of  the  whole  of  Scripture.  "  The  choice  and  flower  of  all  things 
profitable  in  other  books,  the  Psalms,  do  both  more  briefly  contain,  and 
more  movingly  also  express,  by  reason  of  that  poetical  form,  wherewith 
they  are  written.  The  ancients,  when  they  speak  of  the  book  of  Psalms, 
used  to  fall  in  large  discourses,  showing  how  this  part  above  the  rest, 
doth  of  purpose  set  forth  and  celebrate  all  the  considerations  and  opera- 
tions which  belong  to  God  ;  it  magnifieth  the  holy  meditations  and 
actions  of  divine  men  ;  it  is  of  things  heavenly — an  universal  declaration, 
working  in  them  whose  hearts  God  inspireth  with  the  due  consideration 
thereol^ — a  habit  or  disposition  of  mind  wliereby  they  are  made  fit  ves- 
sels both  for  receipt  and  for  delivery  of  whatsoever  spiritual  perfection. 
What  is  there  necessary  for  man  to  know  that  the  Psalms  are  not  able 
to  teach  ?  They  are  to  beginners  an  easy  and  familiar  introduction, 
a  mighty  augmentation  of  all  virtue  and  knowledge  in  such  as  ai'e 
entered  before,  a  strong  confirmation  to  the  most  perfect  among  others. 
Heroical  magnanimity,  exquisite  justice,  grave  moderation,  exact  -wisdom, 
repentance  unfeigned,  unwearied  patience,  the  mysteries  of  God,  the 
sufierings  of  Christ,  the  terrors  of  wrath,  the  comforts  of  grace,  the 
works  of  Providence  over  this  world,  and  the  promised  joys  of  that 
.vorld  which  is  to  come;  all  good,  necessarily  to  be  either  known,  or 
done,  or  had,  this  one  celestial  fountain  yieldeth.  Let  there  be  any 
grief  or  disease  incident  unto  the  soul  of  man,  any  wound  or  sickness 
named,  for  which  there  is  not  in  this  treasure-house,  a  present  comfort- 
able remedy  at  all  times  ready  to  be  found." 

This  abounding  fullness  that  there  is  in  Scripture,  who  shall  appreciate 
it  as  he  ought,  save  he  who  gives  to  his  Bible  something  of  that  unyield- 
ing toil,  that  enthusiastic  study  which  is  so  often  bestowed  on  mere  hu- 
man compositions'?  Or  what  minister  of  Christ  will  be  able,  out  of  this 
exhaustless  store-house,  to  make  distribution  to  every  one  according  to 
his  need,  save  he  who  by  careful  inventory  of  its  treasures,  and  thorough 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  manifold  nature  and  wants  of  men,  shall  have 
come  to  see  the  soul  as  it  stands  revealed  in  the  light  of  redemption  and 
eternity '? 

There  is,  perhai)S,  nothing  more  striking,  throughout  the  Bible,  than 
the  manner  in  which  the  natural  and  supernatural  worlds  interpenetrate. 
Man  is  presented  as  working  on  in  all  freedom,  and  frequently  with  all 
perverseness,  and  God  is  presented  as  working  now  in  him  to  will  and 
to  do ;  now  through  him,  to  overrule  even  his  rebellions  to  the  triumph 


THE     INTERNAL     CREDENTIALS     OE     TILE     LILLE.     S29 

of  law,  and  the  wickedness  alike  of  individuals  and  nations  to  his  own 
gloiy.  From  Genesis  to  Revelation,  God  is  in  the  foreground,  working 
here  by  miracle,  there  by  providence,  and  yet  man  remains  always  true 
to  his  own  nature,  and  seems  never  bereft  of  his  hiherent  liberty.  Thus 
we  see  in  mute  prophecy  and  dim  shadow,  the  w^ay  j^reparing  for  that 
mystery  of  mysteries,  God  inanifest  in  the  flesh  ,'  the  incoijyoration,  as 
it  tcere^  of  the  finite  and  the  infinite^  oflhe  human  and  the  divine  ;  pre- 
figuring also,  how  closely  we  may  all  become  united,  by  spiritual  bonds, 
with  God  in  Christ ;  how  our  whole  soul,  and  body,  and  spirit  may  be 
sanctified,  through  the  indwelling  of  the  Spirit ;  how,  retaining  all  our 
personal  identity,  we  may  still  be  gradually  filled  with  the  fullness  of 
God,  and  thus  be  made  ready  for  that  final  and  glorious  transfiguration, 
when,  risen  and  renewed  in  the  likeness  of  Christ,  we  shall  be  permitted 
to  dwell  foi-ever  with  the  Lord. 

The  Bible  may  be  regarded  again  as  a  revelation  of  nature.,  in  its  two- 
fold relation  to  the  Creator  and  to  his  earthly  creatures,  especially  to  us, 
who  are  self-conscious,  and  accountable.  Considered  even  by  itself,  na^ 
ture  is  rendered  nowhere  with  such  spirit  and  life  as  in  the  Bible.  He 
who  Avould  awaken  a  love  for  it,  in  its  grandeur  and  beauty,  in  its  rich 
variety  and  boundless  magnificence,  will  find  that  even  for  such  a  purpose 
there  is  no  book  like  Scripture.  As  seen,  however,  through  that  book, 
nature  is  no  isolated  or  self-subsisting  machine.  It  is  full  of  relations  to 
God  and  to  man.  Every  object,  from  the  blazing  sun  to  the,  faintest 
twinkling  star — from  the  tallest  cedar  on  Lebanon  to  the  hyssop  in  the 
wall,  acquires,  when  seen  through  this  medium,  a  di\ine  imjiort.  In 
each  we  behold  the  agency,  and  in  most  we  can  trace  the  wisdom  and 
the  goodness  of  a  present  God  ;  in  each,  too,  the  marks  of  a  Providence, 
such  that  the  meanest  are  not  too  lowly  for  its  care,  nor  the  greatest 
too  great  to  be  upheld  by  its  abounding  goodness  ;  in  each  an  image 
likewise  more  or  less  distinct  of  some  high  and  specific  truth  in  morals 
or  in  religion. 

And  if  from  the  poetry  of  nature  we  pass  to  its  science,  we  shall  find 
that  even  there  the  Bible  is  a  great  and  most  necessary  teacher.  Neither 
telescope  with  its  farthest  reach,  nor  microscope  with  its  most  amazing 
revelations,  nor  the  calculus  with  its  widest  sweep  of  inductions  and  gen- 
eralizations, ever  kindled  conceptions  of  the  greatness  and  manifold  wis- 
dom displayed  in  the  material  universe  equal  to  those  which  filled  the 
mind  of  Job  or  David,  and  which  gave  bi-rth  to  those  sublime  utterances 
that  must  forever  outrun  the  discoveries  of  science. 

To  read  the  book  of  nature  aright,  we  always  need  to  draw  aid  from 
the  book  of  grace.  He  but  half  knows  the  thing  formed,  who  does  not 
see  in  it  the  mind  and  hand  of  him  who  formed  it — a  mind,  that  having 
once  made,  would  now  forever  superintend  it,  and  that  may  come  forth, 
too,  from  time  to  time  to  stay  its  onward  movements,  or  even  to  reverse 
its  course ;  that,  so,  when  laws  and  unifoi-ni  succession  fail  to  instruct  us,  ■ 


330  ALONZO     POTTER. 

we  may  be  roused  to  reflection  by  laws  suspended,  by  forces  disar- 
ranged, and  thus  be  constrained  to  rise,  even  tlirougli  natui-e  convulsed, 
to  nature's  God. 

Mere  physics,  whether  inductive  or  deductive,  evince  too  often  a  tend 
cncy  toward  iatalism  and  sensualism,  which  can  be  arrested  only  through 
such  teaching  as  will  keep  the  supernatural  always  in  mind,  and  remind 
us  that  our  pledge  for  the  stability  of  nature  is  to  be  found,  not  in  the 
laws  themselves,  nor  in  the  necessity  of  things,  but  in  the  will  of  God. 
The  grand  secret  of  the  success  of  modern,  as  compared  with  ancient 
science,  lies  in  the  more  docile  and  tractable  spirit  which  has  guided  its 
researches ;  precluding  rash  assumptions ;  recognizing  everywhere  an 
intelligent  purpose  ;  waiting  for  sufficient  light  before  conclusions  are 
Anally  adopted ;  and  beholding,  in  every  law,  a  provision  through  which 
God  dispenses  good,  directly  to  men,  and  to  his  other  creatures ;  and 
through  which,  too,  by  art  and  industry,  man  himself  is  enabled  to  mul- 
tiply to  an  indefinite  extent  his  own  resources  and  enjoyments. 

Nature,  too,  as  seen  through  Scripture,  reveals  herself  as  an  instru- 
ment of  trial  and  disci2oline.  The  whole  material  system  of  things, 
beginning  with  our  own  bodies  and  extending  away  to  the  remotest  part 
of  the  visible  world,  is  made  subservient  to  the  development  of  charac- 
ter— the  education  of  the  soul.  What  the  garden  was  to  our  first 
parents,  with  its  forbidden  tree  and  tree  of  life,  the  same  in  some  sense 
is  the  whole  outward  world  to  us.  We  may  indulge  ourselves  and  be 
ruined ;  we  may  deny  ourselves  and  rise  through  self-denial  to  a  better 
life.  We  may  ply  the  hand  of  industry,  and  through  it  evolve  plenty 
for  our  bodies  and  enjoyment  and  improvement  for  our  minds.  Or  we 
may  play  the  sluggard  till  want  comes  upon  us  as  an  armed  man,  and 
our  higher  powers  are  wholly  paralyzed.  We  may,  again,  in  laboring 
to  suj)ply  our  humblest  material  wants,  so  proceed  as  to  exei'cise  and 
strengthen  the  loftiest  virtues  and  the  holiest  charities  in  the  fear  of 
God ;  or  we  may  so  proceed,  that  we  shall  grow  only  more  selfish,  more 
sordid,  more  cruel,  more  godless,  more  God-defying  and  God-forsaken, 
The  Creator  has  given  us  bodies ;  through  these  bodies  he  has  put  our 
minds  in  relations,  both  active  and  passive,  with  all  extei'nal  objects,  and 
all  other  terrestrial  inhabitants ;  so  that  at  every  stej^  we  may  xise  the 
material  in  order  to  unfold  and  discipline  the  spiritual  and  immaterial,  or 
we  may  use  it  to  debase  and  enslave  them. 

There  is  one  more  characteristic  of  holy  Scripture  which  I  desired  to 
insist  upon  at  much  more  length  than  time  will  now  permit.  It  is  what 
may  be  termed  its  capahillty  as  the  educator  of  the  individual  and  the 
educator  of  the  race.  In  man  there  is  capability  for  progress  and  devel- 
opment unknown  in  any  other  earthly  creature ;  and  in  the  Bible  there 
is  capability  for  promoting  that  progress  without  measure  or  limitation. 
Bounds  can  hardly  be  set  to  the  powers  and  the  knowledge  that  even 
one  mind  can  compass,  if  it  have  time  enough  and  a  fitting  field.    What, 


THE     INTERNAL     CREDENTIALS     OF     THE     BIBLE.      331 

then,  shall  limit  the  progress  of  society  or  of  the  race,  working  as  they 
do  through  associated  eflbrt  and  through  all  time,  if  only  they  have  a 
guide  to  keep  always  in  advance,  urging  them  on  to  new  achievements, 
and  teaching  them  how,  in  attaining  the  new,  they  lose  not  the  old. 
Thus  far  in  the  history  of  the  world,  civilization  in  its  highest  forms  has 
not  permanently  advanced,  on  the  same  theater.  It  has  kept  migrating, 
from  one  seat  to  another,  toward  the  setting  sun.  Though  it  has  gained 
new  elements  as  it  moved  on,  and  has  transplanted  itself  with  more  and 
more  power  of  self-perpetuation,  it  is  still  sad  to  observe  how  nation 
after  nation  has  gradually  grown  unworthy  of  the  trust,  and  has  been 
obliged  to  sit  down  humbled,  amid  the  ruins  of  its  own  greatness.  Time 
will  not  allow  me  to  suggest  all  the  causes  of  this  mournful  and  most 
striking  fact ;  but,  I  shall  not  presume  too  much  on  your  opinions,  if  I 
assume,  that  moral  deterioration  has  always  preceded  that  which  was 
material  and  hitellectual,  and  that  decay  and  weakness  have  invariably 
ensued  when  "  the  salt  had  lost  all  its  savor."  The  faith,  the  virtue,  the 
nobleness  of  soul,  which  are  our  only  sure  and  abiding  guaranty  for  the 
loyalty  of  individuals  to  each  other  or  to  their  country — die  out,  and 
universal  stagnation  or  dissolution  follows  as  the  inevitable  consequence. 
Now,  is  it  not  a  fact,  that  of  no  people  having  the  Bible,  and  cherishing 
that  Bible  aright,  can  this  be  alleged  ?  A  nation  without  a  Bible,  or 
with  a  Bible  suppressed,  or  a  Bible  neglected,  may  well  decline ;  for  it 
finds  it  hard  to  keep  open  those  fountains  of  high  enthusiasm,  or  to  main- 
tain that  sense  of  responsibility  which  are  the  best  j^reservatives  ot 
society  from  efieminacy  and  corruption.  A  bold,  hardy,  enterprising 
people,  who  cherish  the  domestic  virtues  and  fear  God,  need  but  a  gen- 
erous culture  to  make  them  steadily  and  constantly  progressive  ;  and  is 
not  the  Bible,  whenever  read  and  honored,  the  fruitful  parent  of  hardi- 
hood and  heroic  enterprise  ?  Is  it  not  the  palladium  too  of  the  domes- 
tic virtues,  and  does  not  its  voice  ever  urge  in  all-commanding  tones  to 
the  fear  of  God  and  to  works  of  righteousness  ? 

Tlie  Bible,  however,  is  not  merely  a  conservator  of  good  already  com- 
passed, nor  is  it  merely  an  authoritati\e  summons  to  come  up  higher. 
It  is  itself  the  well-spring,  the  exhaustless  fountain,  of  the  noblest  truths 
and  impulses,  that  have  been  given  to  mankind.  It  has  not  only  sup- 
plied new  views  of  God,  and  put  its  ban  on  Polytheism,  Pantheism,  and 
Supei'stition ;  it  has  not  only  solved  the  awful  problem  of  evil  in  its 
relation  to  man,  and  taught  us  the  way  of  redemi)tion  through  the 
Son  of  the  Highest — it  has  invested  every  individual  soul,  for  which 
Christ  died,  with  a  new  and  inconceivable  dignity.  It  has  developed  in 
all,  Avho  have  received  its  great  truths  in  the  love  of  them,  a  sense  ol 
1  esponsibility  which  takes  in  both  worlds.  It  has  proclaimed  the  idea  oi 
a  true  brotherhood  among  all  men  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  has  thus  laid  the 
axe  to  the  root  of  the  tyranny  with  which  man  once  lorded  over  woman, 
patrician  ever  plebian,  noble  over  prince,  master  over  slave.     It  lias 


332  ALONZO    POTTER. 

developed  the  trae  function  of  the  State,  as  one  of  the  agencies  through 
which  the  individual  mind  is  to  be  trained,  under  God,  to  full  capacity 
and  taste  for  all  its  duties  and  prerogatives,  and  as  having  right  to  exist 
and  to  rule,  only  as  it  promotes  to  the  uttermost,  in  all  its  people,  this 
high  culture. 

These  ideas,  when  first  propounded,  met  with  universal  contempt  or 
execration.  Slowly  but  surely,  however,  they  have  spread  like  leaven 
through  bodies,  politic  and  social — charging  mind  after  mind  with  their 
sacred  influence,  and  gradually  achieving  that  amelioration  which  places 
us  this  day  high  above  the  highest  condition  ever  attained  under  Pagan 
or  Mohammedan  sway.  And  thus  are  mankind  to  be  always  taught  of 
God.  Thus  have  they  been  learning  for  six  thousand  years — from  the 
Patriarchal  to  the  Mosaic — from  the  Mosaic  to  the  Christian  stage.  In 
the  infancy  or  childhood  of  the  world,  it  was  the  absolute  regimen  of 
parents — in  its  hot  and  fiery  youth,  it  was  the  fixed  and  well-defined  do- 
minion of  law  as  prescribed  in  the  Old  Testament ;  and  in  its  riper  and 
more  thoughtful  manhood  it  is  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God.  First, 
there  is  outward  truth  to  make  men  wise,  then  there  is  subjective  prep- 
aration to  receive  that  truth.  There  is  glory  without,  hidden  from  the 
proud  and  self-complacent,  but  revealed  to  those  who  in  meekness  are 
babes.  There  are  laws  for  earlier  stages,  and  there  are  laws  again  which 
shall  be  fully  comprehended  in  all  their  applications  and  cordially  obeyed, 
only  when  society  through  a  larger  experience  and  a  deeper  moral  sense, 
shall  come  to  see  their  wisdom  and  to  own  their  sanctity  and  binding 
force. 

What  an  instrument  have  we  here  for  regenerating  universal  human- 
ity. Ours  is  not  a  religion  for  a  favored  family  or  a  preferred  people. 
We  are  put  hi  trust  of  the  gospel,  and  we  hold  it  for  mankind  ;  for  the 
distant,  the  benighted,  the  do^wm-trodden,  the  afflicted.  Nations  hi  their 
loftiest  successes,  in  their  purest  forms  of  civilization,  are  but  traveling 
toward  the  ideal  presented  in  Scripture ;  and  as  new  jDhases  of  society 
appear,  that  Scripture  ,will  be  found  aldapted  to  each,  so  far  as  it  may  be 
legitimate,  and  be  calculated  to  advance  each  to  new  glory  and  perfec- 
tion. If  this  book  be  of  God,  then  it  was  written  with  foresight  of  all 
coming  conditions  of  the  world,  and  it  will  be  found  to  have  for  every 
one  of  them  appropriate  instructions  and  influences. 

But  if  the  Bible  be  such  an  educator  for  nations  and  for  tlie  race,  it 
must  have  capabilities  equally  great  for  the  culture  and  im])rovement 
of  the  individual.  And  what  could  we  desire  in  a  book,  to  rouse  our 
dormant  faculties  or  to  invigorate  and  refine  them,  that  we  may  not  find 
here  ?  Holy  Scripture  comprehendeth  History  and  Prophecy,  Law  and 
Ethics,  the  Philosophy  of  Life  that  now  is,  the  Philosophy  of  Life  that 
is  to  come.  At  one  time,  it  clotheth  its  teachings  in  strains  of  tlie  sub- 
limest  or  tenderest  poetry — at  another,  in  narratives,  as  beautiful  and 
touching  for  their  simplicity  as  they  are  unrivaled  hi  dignity.     It  haa 


THE     INTERNAL    CREDENTIALS     OF     THE     BIBLE.     333 

reasoning  for  the  logical  understanding ;  it  lias  pictures  for  the  discur- 
sive  imagination  ;  it  has  heart-searching  appeals  for  the  intuitive  powers 
of  the  soul.  There  is  no  duty  omitted  ;  there  is  no  grace  or  enjoyment 
undervalued.  It  provides  a  sphere  for  every  faculty,  and  even  for  eveiy 
temperament  and  disposition.  This  many-toned  voice  uses  now  the  logic 
of  a  Paul,  and  now  the  ethics  of  a  James — here  the  boldness  and  fervor 
of  a  Peter,  and  there  the  gentleness  and  sublimity  of  a  John.  With 
one  it  discourses  of  the  awful  guilt  and  curse  of  sin,  and  points  us  to 
the  only  way  of  escape ;  while  with  another  it  expatiates  on  the  unut- 
terable loA'e  of  God  and  the  attractions  of  the  Cross  of  Christ.  The 
Bible  is  no  formaj,  lifeless  system  of  propositions  and  inferences  and  pre- 
cepts. It  is  as  rich  in  the  variety  and  vivacity  of  its  methods,  as  it  is 
in  the  overflowing  abundance  of  its  materials.  While  it  draws  pome  to 
religion,  through  the  ideal,  and  some  thro-ugh  the  real  and  demonstrable, 
it  allures  others  by  means  of  the  aflx^ctions  and  sensibilities,  and  others 
it  overawes,  as  a  son  of  thunder,  by  its  appeals  to  conscience  and  the 
dread  of  an  hereafter. 

And  how  is  it,  if  we  look  to  the  culture  of  the  intellect  merely  ?  How 
vast  is  the  field  which  the  Bible  opens  to  our  inquiries!  What  rich  re- 
sults may  we  not  win,  in  almost  any  conceivable  line  of  research  !  What 
discipline  does  not  the  proper  study  of  it  j^rovide  for  our  reason  and  oui 
faith,  for  patience  and  humility,  for  fortitude  and  modei'ation  !  And  in 
respect  to  those  momentous  questions,  which  pertain  to  God  and  the 
soul's  destiny,  there  is  light  enough  for  every  humble,  robust  mind; 
there  is  darkness  enough  for  every  proud  and  self-confiding  one.  To 
attain  to  perfect  and  all-embracing  knowledge  belongs  not  to  us,  who 
are  still  in  the  twilight  of  our  being,  and  who  are  called  to  work  our 
way,  through  patient  and  ennobling  laboi*,  to  that  state  where  we  can 
see  even  as  we  are  seen,  and  know  even  as  we  are  known.  That  way 
will  open  gradually  but  surely  before  all  who  go  forward  trustfully 
and  manfully  Mdth  the  Bible  as  their  guide.  They  shall  have  no  infallible 
certainty,  but  they  shall  have  unshaken  and  soul-satisfying  confidence. 
To  the  question  of  questions,  "  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  they  shall 
find  an  answer  on  which  they  can  stay  themselves  in  perfect  peace. 
Their  assurance  will  be  the  gift  of  no  ghostly  confessor ;  it  will  be  the 
ofispring  of  no  sudden  and  undcfinable  impression  or  inspiration.  It 
will  be  faith  w^ell-grounded  and  settled — an  anchor  to  the  soul.  It  will 
have  the  witness  within  that  we  love  and  strive  to  serve  God  ;  and  it 
will  have  the  witness  without  that  they  who  do  Christ's  will  shall  know 
of  his  doctrine — that  the  Holy  Spirit  will  guide  the  meek  in  judgment, 
and  instruct  them  in  God's  way,  and  that  he  Avho  cometh  with  a  faithful 
and  penitent  heart  in  Christ's  name,  shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out. 


DISCOURSE    XXV, 

FREDERIC    D.    HUNTINGTON,    D.D., 

The  celebrated  Plummer  Professor  and  University  Preacher  at  old  Harvard,  is 
yet  young  in  years,  having  been  born  May  28th,  1819,  at  Hadley,  Massachusetts. 
His  father,  Dan  Huntington,  is  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  and  in  early  life  was  settled 
in  Litchfield  and  Middletown,  Connecticut.  He  was  a  graduate  of  Yale  College, 
and  a  tutor  in  Williams'  and  Yale.  The  son  had  a  "  Christian  nurture,"  and  can 
recall  no  period  when  he  was  not  interested  in  religious  things.  He  came  first  to 
the  Lord's  table  at  sixteen  years  of  age.  This  was  chiefly  by  means  of  the  special 
and  the  constant  prayers  and  example  of  an  excellent  and  saintly  mother.  His 
academic  education  was  obtained  at  Hoplcins  Academy,  at  home,  and  at  Amherst 
College,  where  he  graduated,  with  the  first  honors  of  his  class,  in  1839.  He  after- 
ward studied  three  years  in  the  Theological  School  in  Cambrid^-e.  In  October, 
1842,  he  was  ordained  over  the  South  Congregational  Church  in  Boston ;  and  in 
September,  1855,  inaugurated  at  Cambridge  as  "  Preacher  to  the  University,  and 
Plummer  Professor  of  Chistian  Morals  in  Harvard  College."  He  also  acts  as  pastor 
of  the  church  in  Harvard  College,  of  about  fifty  communicants. 

He  is  the  author  of  "'Sermons  for  the  People  ;"  "  Parables  of  the  Saviour;"  and 
various  occasional  discourses,  sermons,  etc.,  and  has  edited,  several  years,  the 
"  Monthly  Eeligious  Magazine  and  Independent  Journal." 

Professor  Huntington  is  not  properly  a  representative  of  the  Unitarians.  Though 
elected  by  them  conjointly  with  the  "  Orthodox"  Congregationalists,  they  did  not 
elect  him  to  stand  for  their  creed,  and  it  would  be  unjust  on  both  sides  to  make  him 
answerable  for  their  cause.  His  training  and  associations  have  been  chiefly,  not 
wholly,  among  them.  His  preaching  is  in  Unitarian  pulpits,  when  away  from  home, 
but  only  because  asked  to  preach  there  rather  than  elsewhere.  He  respects  their 
liberty,  and  prizes  and  loves  many  of  their  men.  But  he  yet  refuses  to  be  recog-  ■ 
nized  as  belonging  to  that  body.  To  use  his  own  words  (for  we  have  said  the 
above  with  his  authority),  "  In  doctrine  and  devotion  both,  I  consider  the  Unitarian 
body — as  a  body — ^radically  diseased  and  defective.  My  humble  position  is  that  of 
entire  independency." 

As  we  understand  him,  he  is  an  earnest  Christian  man,  seeking  to  awaken  and 
develop  a  higher  and  deeper  spirituality,  and  render  less  sharp  existing  outward 
distinctions  between  those  who  hold  the  essential  verities  of  the  revealed  word. 
Whether  he  is  strictly  orthodox,  in  the  proper  sense  of  that  word,  is  a  question 
which  is  much  discussed,  but  which  it  docs  not  fall  within  our  province  to  decide. 
That  he  is  becoming  the  means  of  the  revival  of  a  more  evangelical  and  earnest 
piety,  in  this  honored  seat  of  learning,  is  surely  matter  for  universal  and  devout  con- 


THREE    DISPENSATIONS.  335 

gratulation,  and  thousands  are  looking  to  him  as  raised  up  to  be  the  restorer  of  a 
more  operative  faith  to  many  of  the  churches,  as  well  as  to  the  university,  of  Mas- 
sachusetts ;  or  at  least  to  be  the  leader  in  such  a  restoration,  to  be  perfected  in  the 
coming  times. 

In  the  pulpit,  Dr.  Huntington  combines  dignity  with  grace;  and  his  whole  bear- 
ing produces  a  conviction  of  the  thoughtfulness  and  earnestness  of  the  man.  The 
tones  of  his  voice  are  full,  firm,  and  smooth,  and  well  modulated ;  and  his  counte- 
nance beams  with  intelligence  and  benignity.  He  is  said  to  infuse  a  full  soul  into  all 
his  discourses,  uniting  thereto  a  chastened  and  buoyant  rhetoric.  His  manner  is 
easy,  and  half  colloquial,  and  his  composition  abounds  in  similes  and  strong  and 
comprehensive  sentences. 

The  volume  of  sermons  which  Professor  Huntington  has  recently  published,  has 
already  had  a  wide  and  influential  circulation.  The  subjects  are  varied  and  pertinent, 
and  the  discourses  ar6  replete  with  the  Christian  element,  and  with  fresh  and  striking 
thoughts  strongly  and  clearly  expressed.  Their  style  is  uniformly  elevated  and 
elaborate — perhaps  too  much  so  for  ordinary  pulpit  address.  They  are  also  remark- 
able for  breadth  and  depth  of  thought,  classic  gracefulness  and  terseness,  a  touching 
earnestness,  the  traces  of  an  affluent  imagination,  and  the  plain  and  manly  avowal 
of  views  sincerely  entertained. 

The  sermon  which  is  here  given  has  been  kindly  furnished  for  this  work,  and 
appears  now  for  the  first  time  in  print.  It  will  increase  Dr.  Huntington's  distin- 
guished reputation,  as  a  vigorous,  stirring,  and  eloquent  preacher. 


THREE  DISPENSATIOXS  IN  HISTORY  AND  IX  THE  SOUL. 

"  Abraham  believed  God,  and  it  was  accounted  to  him  for  righteousness.  The  law  was 
given  by  Moses  ;  but  grace  and  truth  came  by  Jesus  Christ." — Gal.,  iii.  6,  and  John,  i.  17. 

The  spiritual  growth  of  mankind  has  proceeded  through  three  great 
stages.  Each  of  these  has  been  marked  by  the  evohition  of  one  pre- 
dominating element,  or  salient  principle  of  religious  action.  On  ex- 
amination, we  shall  be  able  to  discover  an  impressive  correspondence 
between  these  successive  epochs  in  the  history  of  humanity  at  large, 
and  the  process  of  life  in  a  well-disciplined,  Christianized  individual. 
This  analogy  Is  so  thickly  set  with  points  of  interest,  as  well  as  so  fruit- 
ful of  practical  suggestions  toucliing  right  religious  ideas,  and  right 
living,  that  I  shall  let  it  fix  the  form,  and  be  the  subject  of  the  discourse. 
That  subject  is:  The  threefold  discipline  of  our  spiritual  exj^erie/ice,  as 
compared'  with  the  threefold  order  in  the  expandifif/  mn-ture  of  the 
human  family. 

The  three  Biblical  Dispensations  are  types  of  three  great  principles 
of  conduct,  or  rather  three  schools  of  religious  culture,  under  which 
we  must  pass  as  persons,  just  as  the  race  has  passed  in  history,  before 
we  can  be  built  up  into  the  symmetrical  stature  of  a  Christian  maturity 


836  FREDERIC    D.    HUNTINGTON. 

I.  First,  was  the  disiDeusation  of  natural  religious  feeling.  The  race 
was  in  diildhood.  It  acted  from  impulse.  It  obeyed  no  written  code 
of  moral  regulations,  but,  so  far  as  its  life  was  right,  it  either  followed 
some  free  religious  instincts,  or  else  depended  on  direct  intimations 
from  the  Deity,  directing  or  forbidding  each  specific  deed.  The  man 
chosen  as  the  representative  of  this  period  was  Abraham,  The  reco]"d 
of  it  is  the  book  of  Genesis.  That  wiiting  is  the  first  grand  chapter  in 
the  biography  of  man  ;  and  its  very  literary  structure — so  dramatic  in 
contents,  and  so  lyrical  in  exj^ression,  so  careless  of  the  rules  of  art,  so 
abounding  in  personal  details,  and  graphic  groupings  of  incident ;  so 
like  a  child's  story  in  its  sublime  simplicity — answers  to  the  spontaneous 
period  it  pictures.  "The  patriarchal  age"  we  call  it.  The  term  itself 
intimates  rude,  unorganized  politics ;  the  head  of  each  family  being  the 
legislator  for  his  tribe.  But,  in  the  absence  of  systematic  statutes,  every 
man,  by  a  liberty  so  large  as  to  burst  often  into  license,  was  likely  to  do 
very  much  what  was  right  in  his  own  eyes.  If  he  had  strong  passions, 
he  would  be  a  sensualist,  like  Shechem,  or  a  petty  tyrant,  like  Laban. 
If  he  were  constitutionally  gentle,  he  would  be  an  inoffensive  shepherd, 
like  Lot.  Such  were  the  first  two  brothers.  Cain's  jealousy  made  him 
a  murderer  ;  Abel  was  peaceable,  kept  sheep,  and  the  only  Aoice  he 
lifted  up  against  outrage,  was  when  his  blood  cried  from  the  ground. 
Some  of  these  nomadic  people,  having  devout  temperaments,  •'  oalle^l 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  we  are  told,  like  Enoch  and  Noah.  OtheT* 
were  bloated  giants,  mighty  men  in  animal  propensities,  gross  and  licen- 
tious, given  to  promiscuous  marriages;  so  that  presently  God  saw 
that  the  wickedness  was  so  great,  and  the  imaginations  of  men's  hearts 
were  so  evil,  that  he  must  wash  the  unclean  earth  with  a  deluge.  But 
there  was  no  permanent  restraining  power  ;  no  fixed  standard  of  judi- 
cial command  ;  and  so,  when  the  flood  dried,  the  tide  of  siij  set  in  again, 
streaked  only  with  some  veins  of  nobleness.  On  the  jDlains  of  Shinar 
pride  fiuicied  it  could  build  a  tower  that  should  overtop  the  All-seeing 
Providence  ;  and  it  had  to  be  humbled  by  a  confusion  of  tongues,  scat- 
tering the  builders.  Even  Noah,  a  just  man  for  his  times,  so  pure  in 
that  comparison,  that  he  was  carried  over  on  the  waves  from  a  drowned 
generation,  to  install  a  new  one,  had  scarcely  seen  the  many-colored 
splendors  of  the  promise  in  the  rainbow,  before  he  was  drunken  of  over- 
much wine.  Abraham  himself,  so  full  of  trust  that  his  trust  finally 
saved  him ;  strong  enough  in  the  power  of  it  to  lay  his  son  on  an  altar ; 
at  an  earlier  age  stained  his  tongue  with  a  cowardly  falsehood,  calling 
his  wife  his  sister  for  safety's  sake — first  pattern  of  politicians  of  mere 
expediency — and  was  rebuked  for  it  by  a  Pharaoh,  who  had  seen  less 
of  the  heavenly  visions  than  he.  Sodom,  with  its  indescribable  pol- 
lutions, was  not  far  from  Beth-el — house  of  God.  Jacob  received  a 
revelation  from  opened  heavens ;  yet  he  over-reached  his  brother  to  ap- 

Througb.. 


THREE    DISPENSATIONS.  337 

out  the  whole  of  this  patriarchal  era,  reaching  from  Adam  to  Joseph, 
and  covering,  by  the  common  computation,  twenty-three  hundred 
years,  there  were  beautiful  virtues,  flowering  into  the  light  by  the  spon- 
taneous energy  of  nature,  but  poisoned  in  many  spots  by  the  slime  of 
sensuality.  The  human  stock  threw  out  its  forms  of  life  with  a  certain 
negligence,  as  the  prodigal  force  of  nature  does  her  forests — as  a  boy 
swings  his  limbs  in  the  open  air.  There  were  heroic  acts ;  but  they 
were  dispersed  over  intervals,  with  dismal  contrasts  of  meanness  and 
cowardice  between.  There  were  ardent  pi'ayers ;  but  foul  passions 
often  met  and  put  to  flight  the  descending  hosts  of  the  angels  of  God. 
Character  needed  a  staunch  vertebral  column  to  secure  its  uprightness. 
No  permanent  sanction  lent  impregnability  to  good  impulses.  Even 
the  saint,  whose  sjjirit  rose  nearest  to  heaven,  walked  on  the  verge  of 
some  abyss  of  shame.  For  though  Abraham  believed,  Moses  had  not 
yet  legislated,  nor  Christ  died, 

Corresjionding,  now,  to  this  impulsive  religioias  age  of  the  race,  is  the 
natural  state  of  the  individual.  It  is  the  condition  Ave  are  born  into, 
and  the  multitudes  never  pass  beyond  it,  because  they  are  never  re- 
newed, or  made  Christian.  Morally  they  are  children  all  their  lives. 
Bad  dispositions  mix  with  good  ;  one  moment  holy  aspirations  ;  the  next 
a  flagrant  immorality.  What  is  wanting  is  a  second  birth  of  spiritual 
conviction.  Conduct  is  not  brought  to  the  bar  of  a  governmental  ex- 
amination, and  judged  by  an  unbending  principle.  Temptation  is  too 
much  for  this  feeble,  capricious  piety.  Nature,  true  enough,  is  always 
interesting ;  and  spontaneous  products  may  be  beautiful.  But  man, 
with  his  free  agency,  beset  before  and  behind  by  evil,  is  not  like  a  Hly 
growing  under  God's  sun  and  dew,  with  no  sin  to  deform  its  grace  or 
stain  its  coloring;  he  is  not  like  the  innocent  architecture  of  a  cloud, 
shaped  by  the  fantastic  caprices  of  the  summer  wind  ;  nor  yet  like  the 
aimless  statuary  of  the  sea-shore,  sculptured  by  the  pliant  chisel  of  the 
wave.  lie  has  to  contend,  struggle,  resist.  He  is  tried,  enticed,  be- 
sieged. Satan  creeps  anew  with  every  new-born  child  into  the  Eden 
of  the  heart,  and  flaming  swords  are  presently  planted  on  its  gates,  pro- 
claiming— no  return  that  way  to  innocence.  The  natural  religion,  of 
Avhich  modern  mystics  are  so  fond,  and  modern  peripatetics  prattle,  is 
not  enough  for  him.  It  might  possibly  answer  in  the  woods,  unless  this 
feeble  iiantheism  would  substitute  artistic  ccstacy  for  worship,  and  moon- 
light for  the  sun,  that  flashes  down  the  glories  of  revelations ;  or  in 
some  solitary  cell,  though  even  there  monk  and  hermit  have  often  found 
the  snare  of  impure  imaginations  spread  too  cunningly  for  it.  But  let 
the  boy  go  to  the  shop,  and  the  girl  to  school ;  let  the  young  man  travel 
to  the  city,  and  the  young  woman  lend  her  ears  to  the  flatteries  of  that 
silver-tongued  sorceress.  Society  ;  and  all  this  natural  piety  is  like  a 
silken  thread  held  over  a  blazing  furnace.  We  may  put  ourselves  at 
ease,  fancy  we  shall  fare  Avell  enough  under  so  kind  a  Father  ;  come  out 

22 


338  FREDERIC    D.    HUNTINGTON. 

comfortalDly  at  last ;  there  is  such  tender  pity  in  the  skies.  But  the  dis- 
pelling of  that  delusion  will  be  the  sharp  word  out  of  the  throne  of 
judgment — "Depai't  from  me,  I  never  knew  you."  No  Babel  of  refuge 
will  be  built  to  the  top.  No  friendly  intervention  will  avert  the  perdi- 
tion of  the  Sodom  in  the  heart.  No  Tamar  of  custom  will  cajole  with 
her  coquetry  the  ancient  and  everlasting  justice.  No  thrifty  leagues  of 
a  low  commercial  instinct,  postponing  conscience  to  the  arithmetic  of 
traffic — no  corrupt  political  majorities,  subscribing  patriotic  manifestoes 
as  stock  for  party  or  private  dividends,  though  they  be  as  eleven  against 
one,  and  though  they  piously  profess  to  be  sons  of  Israel  by  church  sub- 
scriptions, shall  buy  national  prosperity  by  their  brother  Joseph's  blood. 

There  is  often  a  vague  assumption  that  certain  principles  of  natural 
right,  evolved  and  compacted  by  ethical  science,  might  save  our  social 
state.  But,  remember  that  society,  without  Christ,  in  its  philosophy,  its 
literature,  its  art,  its  morals,  obeyed  a  law  of  deterioration  and  decay. 
Without  him,  it  would  have  been  sinking  still.  Instead  of  the  Christian 
justice  that  hangs  its  balances  over  our  seats  of  lawful  trade  to-day,  we 
should  have  not  even  Punic  faith ;  but  something  more  treacherous  than 
that — not  even  the  hesitating  Roman  honesty,  but  a  zone  of  restraint 
more  dissolute  than  the  Corinthian,  and  principles  looser  than  the  Spartan's. 
Instead  of  a  respected  merchant,  or  steady  mechanic,  going  out  to  his 
business  to-morrow,  amid  a  public  order  that  Christ  has  organized,  might 
have  been  seen  a  barbarian  with  the  concentrated  falsity  of  a  hundred. 
Ai'al'S,  waking  into  a  world  convulsed  with  perpetual  anarchy,  or  skulk- 
ing away  to  transact  his  base  affairs  in  a  worse  than  Circassian  mart.  We 
may  baptize  the  interesting  displays  of  our  intermittent  virtue  wdth  a 
Christian  name  ;  but  they  may  yet  contain  no  quality  of  Christ's  peculiar 
sanctity.  They  may  leave  human  life  quite  imtouched  by  that  unrivaled 
glory,  however  bright  their  transient  beam.  They  are  not  redolent  of 
the  New  Testament.  Their  uprightness  does  not  bear  the  sanction  of 
the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  Their  slender  rectitude  is  not  the  principle 
that  treats  men  justly  because  they  are  God's  children,  which  was  the 
law  of  Christ's  great  honesty.  Their  kindness  is  not  the  sweet  charity 
of  the  beatitudes.  Their  -moderation  is  not  guarded  by  those  majestic 
warders,  reverence  for  God,  and  a  Saviour's  love.  Nor  is  their  Avorship, 
if  they  adore  at  all,  fervent  with  the  prayers  of  Olivet  and  Gethsemane. 

And  as  the  first  dispensation  ended  in  a  slavery  in  Egypt,  or  broods 
darkly  over  Pagan  nations  waiting  to  be  brought  nigh  by  the  blood  of 
Christ  to  this  hour,  so  the  lawless  motions  of  every  self-guided  Avill  end 
in  a  servitude  to  some  Pharaoh  in  the  members  that  cries  aloud  for  eman- 
cipation— a  settled  alienation  from  the  household  of  the  good. 

II.  Next  after  this  impulsive  or  spontaneous  period,  which  is  the  period 
of  Childhood,  comes  the  legal  or  judicial — a  second  stage  in  the  history 
of  the  rehgious  consciousness.     Moses,  the  lawgiver,  is  its  representa^ 


THREE     DISPENSATIONS  339 

tive.  From  this  crisis,  the  chief  significance  of  the  world's  religious 
experience  is  concentrated,  for  some  sixteen  hundred  years,  in  Judea,  and 
human  progress  runs  on  tlirough  the  channel  of  Hebrew  nationality. 
Other  families  have  wandered  off"  into  hopeless  idolatries.  The  religion 
of  instinct  has  found  its  appropriate  termination  in  a  degraded  Egyi)tian 
priesthood,  mixing  civil  despotism  with  the  incantations  of  an  impure 
mythology. 

And  now,  God  calls  up  Moses  out  of  this  miserable  oppression  into 
the  summit  of  Sinai,  and  appoints  him  the  head  of  the  second  august 
human  epoch.  A  period  of  laws,  after  instinct,  begins.  Instinct  must 
be  curbed,  for  it  has  done  mischief  enough.  Impulse  must  be  subjected 
to  principle,  for  it  has  proved  itself  insufficient  alone.  There  must  be 
positive  command,  controlling  wayward  inclinations.  "  Thou  shalt,"  and 
"  Thou  shalt  not,"  are  the  watchwords.  It  is  an  age  of  obedience. 
Ceremonies  and  ordinances  are  set  up  to  bring  the  wild  will  under  disci- 
pline. And  the  better  to  secure  exact  obedience,  a  visible  system  of 
formal  observances  is  atmounced — so  many  sacrifices  every  day,  and  so 
many  meat-ofterings,  drink-offerings,  cattle,  doves,  fruits,  cakes,  for  evei*y 
sacrifice.  To  withstand  the  surrounding  seductions  of  nations  still  steeped 
in  the  vices  of  their  natural  propensities,  a  scheme  of  coercive  restraints 
comes  in.  The  people  must  have  multiplied  ft^civals,  jubilees,  national 
gatherings,  regulai'ly  kept,  and  by  divine  appointment.  To  draw  them, 
t  here  is  a  gorgeous  temple  with  an  imposing  altar,  a  tabernacle,  a  covenant,  a 
shekinah  lighted  from  heaven,  a  priesthood  clad  in  splendid  garments,  and 
all  the  superb  appai-atus  of  a  magnificent  ritual.  Even  the  duily  habits, 
mateiials  of  common  dress,  qualities  of  food  and  kinds  of  flesh,  are  all  to  be 
regulated  in  detail  by  specific  statutes.  Law  reaches  down  to  determine 
the  most  minute  particulars — the  cleansing  of  houses,  the  shape  of  the 
beard,  the  sowing  of  the  field — all  having  reference  to  neighboring  idol- 
atrous usages,  of  which  these  twelve  tribes  must,  by  all  means,  be  kept 
clear.  And  for  the  breach  of  every  law,  from  greatest  to  least,  there 
must  be  penalty.  That  part  of  human  nature,  that  terror  and  dread  ap- 
peal to,  is  addressed.  On  the  transgressor  woe  is  denounced.  There  is 
a  Mount  Ebal,  full  of  menacing  curses,  as  well  as  a  Gerizim  pledged  to 
blessings.  Smoke,  earthquakes,  thunders  and  lightnings,  marshaling  their 
awful  pageant  about  Sinai  when  the  law  was  given,  only  prefigured  pun- 
ishments that  should  always  torment  the  disobedient.  And,  accordingly, 
down  through  all  the  Hebrew  fortunes,  while  prophets  were  set  to  admon- 
ish and  call  back  the  rebellious,  the  great  staple  of  Israelitish  history  was, 
the  divine  chastisement  that  followed  violations  of  law,  and  the  prosper-, 
ity  that  rewarded  its  observance.  Sieges  and  campaigns,  conquests  and 
captivities,  judges  and  kings,  Joshua,  Gideon,  and  Ezra,  David,  Saul, 
andRehoboam — all  were  of  less  consequence,  as  events,  or  as  individuals, 
than  as  instruments  of  that  mighty,  organized  power  ly'mg  hehind  them — 
Moses  and  the  law. 


340  FREDERIC    D.    HU^JTINGTON. 

So  with  all  of  ws  ;  tbei-e  comes  a  time,  when  we  feel  that  we  cau  not  act 
by  inclination,  but  must  follow  law.  The  principle  of  duty  is  that  law.  Ba- 
byhood is  past,  and  its  instincts  suffice  us  no  longer.  To  do  as  we  like, 
would  still  be  pleasant ;  but  it  is  dangerous  and  false.  We  become  stew- 
ards, and  7nust  give  account  of  our  stewardship.  Life  has  put  its  harness 
upon  us,  and  Ave  must  work  in  it.  Passions  have  sprung  up,  and  conflicts 
have  commenced  within  us,  that  make  impulse  an  unsafe  guide.  We  find 
a  meaning  in  that  hard  w'ord,  mi{st.  We  are  free  to  do  as  w^e  will,  and  yet 
we  feel  somehow  bound  under  God's  necessity.  It  begins  to  be  evident 
that  as  sure  as  a  stone  falls  or  fire  burns,  sin  Avill  bring  trouble ;  indulgence, 
pain  ;  impiety,  remorse  ;  dissipation,  disease  ;  dishonesty,  infamy.  The 
spendthrift  must  be  pinched,  the  fraudulent  bargainer  lose  his  soul  though 
he  gain  the  world,  and  the  false  professor  be  spiritually  damned.  Here 
are  laws — laws  of  the  Almighty's  ordaining — laws  that  bring  retribution. 
If  we  would  live  peaceably,  w'e  must  come  under  them  and  obey. 

Very  often  it  happens  that  by  obeying  a  law,  we  acquire  superiority 
to  it.  Voluntarily  submitting  to  certain  rules  for  a  time,  our  virtue  is 
strengthened  and  finally  becomes  independent  of  them,  so  that  it  can  go 
alone.  The  inebriate  binds  himself  by  a  pledge,  and  thus  regains  his 
freedom.  The  disciple  appoints  specific  hours  for  praying,  and  by  that 
means  gains  the  devout  spirit  which  breathes  a  perpetual  aspiration,  at 
last  inaugurating  a  silent  converse  of  the  soul  wdth  heaven,  as  natural  as  the 
pulse  in  the  veins.  The  methodical  division  of  time  for  business  is  only 
a  form  of  law,  coercing  industry  and  efficiency.  Many  a  man  has  to 
spur  his  sluggishness,  by  definite  tasks ;  and  many  more  would  bring 
nothing  to  pass,  but  for  fixed  methods  and  seasons.  Without  a  raornmg 
and  evening  sacrifice,  forgetful  worldliness  would  render  poor  service  to 
God ;  and  memories,  like  Martha,  so  careful  and  troubled  about  many 
things,  would  fail  of  Mary's  one  thing  needful.  The  laying  apart  of  ex- 
act sums  for  chanty  has  been  all  that  stood  between  some  men  and  the 
doom  of  avarice ;  benevolence  had  to  be  put  out  to  school,  and  philan- 
thropy be  drilled  into  promptitude  like  a  cadet.  Let  us  not  despise  law, 
for  every  day  practical  proofs  are  scattered  before  us,  that  it  is  a  school- 
master to  lead  us  to  Christ. 

Even  fear,  though  fastidious  nerves  are  apt  to  discredit  it  as  a  lower 
sentiment,  has  its  office  in  disciplining  thoughtless  and  stubborn  wills, 
breaking  down  pride  and  prompting  insensibility,  till  it  is  ready  to  hand 
us  over  to  motives  of  a  nobler  order.  There  is  a  meaning  in  a  tradition 
of  an  ancient  German  prince,  who,  in  early  life,  was  bidden  by  an  oracle 
to  search  out  an  inscription  on  a  ruined  wall  which  should  prefigure  his 
mortal  fate.  He  found  the  Latin  words,  signifying  «/?er  six.  Supposing 
they  revealed  the  number  of  days  he  was  to  live,  he  gave  himself  for  the 
six  days  following  to  his  hitherto  neglected  soul,  preparing  liimself  to 
die.  But  finding  death  did  not  come,  he  was  still  held  to  his  sober  reso- 
lutions by  supposing  six  weeks  were  the  interpretation ;  and  then  he 


THREE     DISPENSATIONS.     .  341 

prolonged  his  holy  life  to  six  months,  and  six  years.  On  the  first  day  of 
the  seventh  year,  by  reason  of  the  excellent  manhood  into  which  he  had 
thus  formed  his  character,  he  had  gained  the  confidence  of  the  people,  and 
he  found  the  fulfillment  of  the  ambiguous  prophecy,  by  being  chosen 
Emperor  of  Germany.  Here  is  a  figure  of  common  expeiience.  We 
may  conceive  it  to  have  been  a  more  "  spiritual"  process,  that  the  prince 
should  have  been  drawn  to  piety,  by  loving  goodness  for  its  own  sake. 
But  it  was  the  timid  dread  of  dying  that  drew  him,  and  the  royal  bene- 
factions of  a  truly  Christian  monarch  justified  the  agent.  Have  you 
never  known  a  fever,  or  an  accident,  or  the  incipient  symptoms  of  a  con- 
sumption to  be  the  determining  cause  that  bent  the  whole  current  of  a 
life  from  earthward  to  heavenward  ?  Have  you  never  known  that  a 
mere  dread  of  punishment  or  pain,  of  hell  or  disgrace,  has  stopped  the 
erring  feet  of  lust,  silenced  profanity,  driven  back  the  Sabbath-breaker  ? 
God  is  not  ashamed  to  take  into  the  sublime  economy  of  his  purposes 
these  stimulants  to  virtue  ;  and  let  not  us,  in  our  puerile  conceit,  venture 
to  pi'onounce  them  unworthy.  Outgrow  them  if  you  will,  and  can  ;  but 
take  care  that  you  are  not  found,  after  all,  below,  instead  of  above  the 
plane  of  their  influence. 

For  be  assured,  though  we  have  read  the  New  Testament,  named  the 
name  of  Jesus,  and  quite  looked  down  on  the  Jews,  some  of  us  have 
not  yet  climbed  up  so  far  as  to  Moses  and  his  Jewish  law.  In  the  Bible's 
elder  Testament  there  are  needed  examples  for  us  yet.  Not  all  of  us 
have  learned  that  majestic,  unchangeable  fact,  that  God  is  Sovereign ; 
nor  those  related  facts  that,  if  we  toill  perpetrate  the  icrong,  we  must 
suiFer  the  penalty  ;  that  we  can  not  dodge  the  consequences  of  what  we 
do ;  that  indolence  must  sap  our  strength  ;  that  selfishness  must  end  in 
wretchedness ;  that  falsehood  is  a  mint,  coining  counterfeits  that  must 
return  upon  our  hands;  that  hypocrisy  to-day  is  disgrace  to-morrow. 
This  is  law,  everlasting,  unrepealable  law;  and  our  poor  attempts  to 
resist,  or  nullify  it,  avail  not  so  ranch  as  a  puff  of  mortal  breath  against 
the  gulf  stream  in  the  Atlantic.  Blessed  will  it  be  for  our  peace,  when 
we  accept  it,  and  bow  to  it,  turning  it  into  a  law  of  liberty. 

Remember  that  the  grandest  examples  of  sainthood,  or  spiritual 
life,  that  the  ages  have  seen,  have  been  souls  that  recognized  this  truth 
— the  firm,  Puritanical  element,  in  all  valiant  piety ;  and  without  it  mere 
amiable  i-eligious  feeling  will  be  quite  sure  to  degenerate  into  sentimen- 
tality. We  need  to  stand  compassed  about  with  the  terrible  splendors 
of  the  Mount,  and  with  something  of  the  somber  apparatus  of  He- 
brew commandments,  to  keep  us  from  falling  oft'  into  some  impious, 
Gentile  idolatries  of  the  senses.  Holy  places,  and  holy  days,  and  solenm 
asseinblies,  still  dispense  sanctity.  Our  appetites  have  to  be  hedged 
about  with  almost  as  many  scruples  of  regimen  for  Christian  modera- 
tion's sake,  as  the  Jew's  for  his  monotheism.  "We  Avish,"  says  some 
one,  "  that  it  was  not  so  difficult  to  be  good.     We  wish  that  we  could 


342  FREDERICK    D.    HUNTINGTON. 

be  self-iniiulgent,  and  yet  be  good  for  all  that ;  that  we  could  idle  off  our 
time,  and  yet  be  wise  for  all  that."  The  worldling  wishes  he  could  com- 
bine his  worldliness  now  with  a  heaven  hereafter;  the  voluptuary,  that 
he  could  have  "the  clear  eye  and  steady  hand  of  the  temperate  ;"  the 
vain,  ambitions,  ca|)ricious  woman,  that  she  could  exhibit  the  serenity 
that  comes  of  prayer.  But  Sinai  stands  unmoved,  at  the  outset  of  every 
life-journey  through  the  wilderness;  and  at  the  further  end,  beyond  the 
river,  Ebal  with  its  curses,  and  Gerizim  with  its  blessings.  "  Whatsoever 
a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

III.  But  there  is  a  Third  Dispensation,  profounder  and  richer  than  that 
of  statutes;  and,  at  the  head  of  it.  One  greater  than  Moses.  The  period 
of  literal  commandments  was  insufficient ;  humanity  outgrew  it.  It  be- 
came a  dead  profession,  a  school  of  foolish  questions,  a  shelter  of  hideous 
hypocrisies.  Lo !  the  enlarging  soul  of  the  race  asks  a  freer,  more  sin- 
cere, more  vital  nurture,  and  it  comes.  If  the  simple  religious  instincts 
of  Abraham  had  been  accepted  for  righteousness;  if  the  law  had  been 
given  by  Moses  ;  grace  and  truth  enter  in  by  Jesus  Christ ;  grace  for  the 
heart,  truth  for  the  understanding ;  favor  for  man's  stumbMng  feet,  and 
light  for  his  eyes.  Christ  does  not  abrogate  law,  but  by  his  own  life 
and  sacrifice  first  satisfies  its  conditions.  He  says  expressly,  "  Think  not 
that  I  came  to  destroy  Moses,  but  to  fulfill."  The  cross  does  not  unbmd 
the  cords  of  accountability,  but  tightens  and  strengthens  them  rather. 
The  gospel  affords  no  solvent  to  disentegrate  the  commandments ;  it 
only  lets  "  the  violated  law  speak  out  its  thunders"  in  the  tones  of  pity. 
Divine  laws  never  looked  so  sacred  as  when  they  took  sanctity  from  the 
redemption  of  the  crucified. 

Witness  now  a  new  light,  "  fighting  every  man  that  eometh  into  the 
"world."  It  is  the  deliverance  of  the  heart.  It  is  the  purifying  of  the 
life.  It  is  the  sanctification  of  the  spirit.  The  law,  by  which  no  man 
living  can  be  justified,  because  no  man  ever  yet  kept  it  inviolate ;  which 
makes  no  allowance  for  imperfect  obedience,  and  yet  never  was  pei-fectly 
obeyed — which,  therefore,  is  a  rule  of  universal  condemnation  when 
standing  alone — this  stern,  unrelenting  law  gives  place  to  a  gosj^el — glad- 
der tidings — a  voice  that  comes  not  to  condemn  but  to  save,  a  ministry 
of  mercy,  asking  only  a  penitent  spirit  that  it  may  offer  forgiveness,  and 
only  an  inward  faith  changing  the  motives  that  it  may  confer  eternal 
life. 

Law  and  Prophets,  then,  are  not  annulled  ;  what  they  lacked  is  sup- 
plied. They  are  absorbed  by  Evangelists.  The  gospel  takes  up  all  their 
contents,  recasts  them,  and  quickens  them  with  the  vitality  of  a  fresh 
inspiration.  Moses  remains,  but  only  as  a  servant  to  Christ.  The  deca- 
logue still  stands ;  but  the  cross  stands  on  a  higher  pedestal,  invested 
with  a  purer  glory.  Humble  Calvary  is  the  seat  of  a  loftier  power  than 
towering  Iloreb.     We  must  still  be  under  discipfine ;  but  the  Lawgivei 


THREE     DISPENSATIONS.  343 

is  lost  in  the  Redeemer.  Wliat  ^cas  a  task  is  transfigured  into  a  choice. 
The  drudgery  of  obedience  is  beautified  into  the  privilege  of  reconcilia- 
tion. Love  has  cast  out  fear.  Man  no  longer  cowers  before  his  sover- 
eign with  terror,  but  pours  out  his  praises  to  a  Father.  The  soul  is 
released  from  the  bondage  of  a  thrall  into  the  liberty  of  a  child.  Out 
of  the  plodding  routine  of  mechanical  sacrifice,  it  ascends  into  spiritual 
joy,  where  the  handwriting  of  ordinances  is  done  away;  the  Great  High 
Priest  has  ascended  once  for  all  into  the  heavens,  and  suffering  is  will- 
ingly borne  because  it  makes  the  disciple  Uke  the  Lord. 

Thus  the  word  spoken  by  the  third  epoch  of  religious  culture  is  not, 
"Act  thy  nature  out  and  follow  thy  lawless  impulses" — nor  yet,  "Do 
this  circle  of  outward  works,  and  then  come  and  claim  salvation  for  thy 
merits" — but.  Believe,  first,  and  then  out  of  thy  faith  do  the  righteous 
works  which  thou  then  canst  not  but  do.  Repent  of  thy  short  com- 
ings, and  be  foi-given.  Lean  on  Christ,  thy  Saviour.  Love  God,  thy 
Father.  Help  men,  thy  brethren.  And  come,  inherit  thine  immortal 
kingdom ! 

Now,  at  last,  if  it  only  keeps  on  in  the  path  divinely  marked  for  it, 
the  soul  emerges  into  that  wide  fellowship  of  Christ — that  open  hospi- 
tality of  spiritual  freedom,  where  the  impulse  of  nature  is  only  guided, 
not  stifled,  by  law ;  where  law  is  ripened  and  fulfilled  into  faith.  The 
highest  victory  of  goodness  is  union  with  God.  That  union  comes  only 
by  a  Mediator.  For  reconciliation  between  finite  and  infinite,  there 
must  be  a  Reconciler  combining  both.  The  way  to  peace  hes  by  Cal- 
vary. Humanity  realizes  its  complete  proportions,  only  by  inward  mem- 
bership with  him  Avho  fills  all  the  veins  of  his  living  body  with  his  blood, 
and  the  chambers  of  his  church  with  the  glory  of  his  presence  to-day. 
"  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved." 

For,  observe,  by  all  means,  this  striking  condition  pertaining  to  the 
doctrine ;  that  neither  of  these  three  stages,  whether  of  the  general  or 
the  personal  progress,  denies,  or  cuts  off,  its  predecessor.  Nature  pre- 
pares the  way  for  law — making  the  heart  restless^  by  an  unsatisfying 
experiment,  without  it.  Abraham  saw  more  glorious  ages  coming  than 
his  own,  and  the  promise  given  to  him  and  liis  seed,  Emmanuel  accom- 
plished. The  law  disciplined  wayward,  uncultured  man,  making  him 
ready  for  the  church  that  was  to  descend  "  like  a  bride  out  of  heaven." 
Every  ordinance  in  its  ritual  was  a  type ;  every  statute  was  a  proph- 
ecy. 

All  Judaism  was  prospective.  Moses  looked  forward  to  the  Messiah. 
So,  in  the  heart  of  childhood,  there  are  expectations,  vague  and  yet  bril- 
liant, of  the  responsible  second  stage  of  manhootl ;  it  is  too  thoughtless 
yet  to  look  beyond,  to  the  age  of  mature  Christian  holiness.  But  see, 
again,  when  that  second  age  of  stern  command  and  strict  obedience 
comes,  it  grows  sober  and  reflective.     It  feels  heavily  that  it  is  not  suffi' 


0^4  FREDERIC     D.     HUNTINGTON. 

cient  to  itself.  It  must  look  longingly  forward  for  the  consolations  of 
tlie  cross.  Nature  does  not  comprehend  law,  nor  law  gospel ;  Abraham 
Moses,  nor  Moses  Messiah  ;  but  the  Son  of  God  understands  all,  and  the 
gospel,  in  its  majestic  orbit^  while  embracing  law  and  nature,  transcends 
them  both. 

Remember,  also,  for  its  practical  fruit's  sake,  this  fact,  that  each  stage 
requires  fidelity  in  the  preceding.  You  must  have  been  true  to  the 
better  impulses  of  youth,  that  you  may  be,  to  the  best  advantage,  a  serv- 
ant of  the  law  of  maturity.  You  must  be  faithfully  obedient  to  duty, 
before  you  are  fit  to  be  a  subject  of  grace.  Do  not  imagine  you  can 
glide  over  into  the  favor  of  heaven,  without  first  keeping  the  command- 
ment. It  is  a  strait  gate,  and  a  narrow  way  that  leads  to  life,  I  must 
be  a  cheerful  servant,  before  I  can  know  the  joy  of  adoption,  and  cry, 
"Abba,  Father."  Willing  to  be  constrained  by  the  positive  precept, 
I  may  hope,  by-ancl-by,  for  the  freedom  of  a  child  and  heir.  Many 
things  that  I  would  rather  not  do — irksome  to  the  sluggish  will,  hai'd  to 
the  love  of  ease,  oftensive  to  pride,  bitter  to  selfish  pleasure — I  must 
do,  before  I  can  ascend  to  that  sublime  self-mastery  with  Christ,  where  I 
shall  desire  to  do  only  what  I  ought.  You  have  seen  a  seabird,  which  in 
rising  from  the  waves  has  to  run  some  way  with  difiiculty  upon  the 
water,  striking  the  surfaci;  aboriously  with  its  pinions;  but  Avhen  it  has 
once  lifted  itself  into  the  upper  air,  it  balances  its  flight  with  a  calm  mo- 
tion, and  enfranchised  into  the  freedom  of  the  sky,  the  slow  beat  of  its 
wings  is  imperceptible.  It  is  by  pain  and  toil  under  the  commandments, 
that  the  soul  gets  the  hberty  of  its  faculties  ;  but  when  it  has  been  taken 
up  out  of  itself  by  love  and  trust,  it  moves  in  harmony  with  God.  The 
law  was  our  schoolmaster  to  bring  us  unto  Christ,  that  we  might  "be 
justified  by  faith."  But  "after  that  faith  is  come,  we  are  no  longer 
undei-  a  schoolmaster,"  "  All  things  are  yours,  and  ye  are  Christ's,  and 
Christ  is  God's."  No  longer  at  Gerizim,  nor  yet  at  Jerusalem,  but  every- 
where, we  may  worsliip  the  Father  ! 

You  have  seen  the  religionist  of  mere  passion.  That  impulsive  tem- 
perament is  doubtless  capable  of  good  services  to  the  master.  But,  to 
that  end,  the  master  must  have  the  reforming  of  it.  That  unsteady  pur- 
pose must  be  made  steadfast  through  a  thoughtful  imitation  of  the  con- 
stancy, that  said,  "  Behold,  I  go  up  to  Jerusalem  to  be  crucified,"  That 
fluctuating  wing  of  worship,  must  be  j)oised  by  some  influence  from  those 
hills,  where  whole  nights  were  not  too  long  for  a  Redeemer's  prayers. 
That  inexpert  swimmer  in  the  sea  of  life,  now  rising,  now  sinking,  and 
now  noisily  splashing  the  waters,  must  be  schooled  by  sober  expe- 
rience to  glide  onward  with  a  firmer  and  stiller  stroke.  Ardor  must  be 
matched  with  consistency.  You  are  not  to  be  carried  to  heaven  by  a 
fitful  religion,  periodically  raised  from  the  dead  at  seasons  of  social  ex- 
hilaration ;  not  by  a  religion  alive  at  church,  but  stagnant  in  the  streets 
and  in  the  market-places ;  not  by  a  religion  kindling  at  some  favored 


THREE    DISPENSATIOXS.  3-45 

hour  of  sentimental  meditation,  only  to  sink  and  flicker  in  the  drudgery 
of  common  work.  It  is  to  little  purpose  that  we  read,  and  circulate,  and 
preach  the  Bible,  except  all  our  reading  and  all  our  living  gain  thereby 
a  more  bibUcal  tone.  And  it  is  quite  futile  that  our  breasts  glow  with 
some  fugitive  feeling  in  the  house  of  God,  unless  that  feeling  dedicates 
our  conmion  dwellings  to  be  all  houses  of  God. 

So  have  you  seen  the  religious  legalist.  In  business,  in  the  street,  in 
sanctuai-ies,  at  home,  you  have  seen  him.  In  business,  measuring  off  his 
righteousness  by  some  sealed  measure  of  public  usage,  as  mechanically  as 
his  merchandise,  and  making  a  label  or  a  dye-stuff  his  cunning  proxy  to 
tell  the jie  that  some  judicial  penalty  had  frightened  from  his  tongue; 
disowning  no  patent  obligation,  but  cheating  the  customer,  or  oppressing 
the  weak,  in  secret.  In  the  street,  wearing  an  outside  of  genial  manners, 
with  a  frosty  temper  under  it,  or  a  cloak  of  propriety  Avith  a  heart  of  sin  ; 
in  the  sanctuary,  purchasing,  with  formal  professions,  one  day,  the  priv- 
ilege of  an  untroubled  self-seeking  the  other  six,  or  possibly  opening 
the  pew  door  and  the  prayer-book  here  to-day,  with  the  same  hand  that 
wiU  wrong  a  neighbor  to-morrow;  and  at  home, practicing  that  reluctant 
virtue  that  would  hardly  give  conjugal  affection  but  for  the  marriage- 
bond,  and  that,  by  being  exported  to  another  continent,  would  find  a 
Parisian  atmosphere  a  solvent  of  all  its  scruples.  Not  descending,  at 
l)resent,  to  the  depth  of  depravity,  he  certainly  never  rises  to  a  pure 
piety.  AVhatever  respectable  or  admirable  traits  you  see  in  him,  you 
miss  that  distinctive  mark  which  every  eye  takes  knowledge  of  as  a 
spiritual  consecration. 

Engraft,  now,  on  that  "  wild  olive"  stock,  the  sweet  juices  of  Christian 
love,  drawn  from  their  original  stock  in  Bethlehem,  "  of  the  seed  of  David 
and  the  I'oot  of  Jesse ;"  soften  that  hard  integrity  by  Christian  charity ; 
in  25lace  of  duty  done  from  sheer  compulsion,  put  duty  done  from  a  will- 
ing, eager,  and  believing  heart.     Do  this,  and  thou  shalt  live. 

Abraham,  Moses,  Christ ;  impulse,  discipline,  fiith ;  nature,  law,  gos- 
pel ;  instinct,  obedience,  grace ;  Mamre,  Sinai,  Calvary ;  this  is  that 
divine  order — not  bound  by  rigid  rules  of  chronological  succession,  but 
having  the  free  play  and  various  intershadings  of  a  moral  growth — to 
which  we  are  to  conform  our  lives.  AVhen  the  "271118  salth  the  LonV 
shall  have  controlled  our  impatient  will,  our  hearts  will  be  ready  to  say, 
"  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven !"  Seek,  first,  after  that  indwelling 
goodness  that  has  its  fountain  in  the  center  of  the  soul,  and  good  woi-ks 
Avill  be  the  constant  stream.  Be  children  of  hght.  Live  by  the  spiiit, 
not  the  letter ;  by  faith,  not  by  fear.  For  you  are  called  to  be  discijjles 
of  Jesus.  Henceforth  the  Christian  is  to  be  known,  and  to  be  saved,  not 
by  the  hand  so  much  as  by  the  heart ;  not  by  a  righteousness  that  is 
legal,  but  spiritual.  Let  not  your  piety  be  the  occasional  piety  of  Rab- 
binical Sabbaths,  with  ghastly  intervals  of  worldlincss  between,  like  iso- 


346  FREDERIC     D.     HUNTINGTON". 

lated  springs  in  a  desert  of  sand  ;  but  a  piety,  whose  perennial  influence, 
like  the  i-iver  that  keeps  the  meadows  always  green,  shall  penetrate  and 
fertilize  the  whole  soil  and  open  held  of  your  being,  and  thus  make  glad 
the  city  of  your  God.  N"o  rich,  or  beautiful,  or  accepted  life  can  be  had 
by  us,  except  Christ  be  its  ins])iration.  Hope  will  not  reach  up  to  im- 
mortality, except  it  climb  by  the  cross.  Let  not  your  lives  be  dead 
shapes  of  outward  decency — the  carved  and  gilded  wood  of  an  ark  and 
a  tabernacle  deserted  by  the  Spirit — but  vital  branches,  filled  with  leap- 
ing and  vigorous  cun-ents  of  holy  feeling,  on  the  Uving  vine !  "  For  if 
any  man  have  not  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his." 


DISCOURSE    XIVI. 

•       RICHARD     FULLER,     D.  D. 

This  distinguished  pulpit  orator  was  born,  the  son  of  Thomas  Fuller,  a  planter, 
in  Beaufort,  South  Carolina,  in  1808.  He  was  sent  to  Harvard  College,  where  he 
applied  himself  diligently  to  his  studies,  and  took  his  degree  as  a  gi'aduate  with  iiig 
class  in  1824,  although  he  had  left  college  at  the  end  of  his  junior  year.  On  his  re- 
turn to  his  native  State,  he  commenced  the  study  of  law,  and  was  admitted  to  the 
bar  before  the  required  age  (twenty-one).  His  practice  is  said  to  have  increased 
so  rapidly,  that  at  the  third  term  of  the  court,  after  he  was  admitted,  he  had  one 
hundred  and  fifty  cases  to  plead.  During  a  fit  of  sickness  his  mind  was  turned 
toward  rehgion,  and,  on  his  recovery,  he  became  a  member  of  the  Episcopal  church. 
He  afterward  adopted  Baptist  sentiments,  changed  his  denominational  connection, 
abandoned  his  profession,  and  devoted  himself  to  a  preparation  for  the  ministry. 
He  pursued  his  studies  diligently  for  a  year,  when  he  was  ordained,  and  took 
charge  of  the  Beaufort  Baptist  church,  S.  C,  in  1833.  Besides  his  regular  duties, 
he  made  excursions  as  an  evangeUst,  preaching  the  gospel  among  the  slaves.  In 
1836,  his  health  having  become  impaired,  he  spent  a  year  in  Europe,  and,  on  his 
return,  resumed  his  labors  with  great  success.  In  1847,  he  took  charge  of  the 
seventh  Baptist  church  in  Baltimore,  where  he  still  holds  the  pastoral  charge  of  a 
largo  and  influential  church,  now  numbering  over  nine  hundred  communicants. 

Dr.  Fuller's  manner  in  the  pulpit  is  peculiar.  When  he  first  rises  to  address 
an  audience,  he  generally  surveys  them  leisurely,  sometimes  draws  a  deep  heavy 
breath,  or  sigh,  and  then  commences  to  speak  in  a  calm,  low  tone,  so  softly  that  he 
can  hardly  be  heard.  He  also  reads  his  hymns  in  a  similar  tone,  and  prays — 
sometimes  with  great  earnestness — in  a  subdued  voice.  His  gestures  are  not 
numerous,  but  exceedingly  graceful  and  natural,  and  at  times  very  animated, 
almost  violent.  In  his  more  youtliful  days  he  was  far  more  saltatory  in  his 
gesticulation  than  he  is  now.  He  preaches  altogether  without  even  a  sketch.  He 
probably  never  wrote  a  sermon  before  its  delivery.  Every  Sabbath  evening  he  has 
the  pulpit-desk  removed,  and  comes  forward  upon  the  platform,  with  a  small 
Bible  or  New  Testament  in  his  hand,  reads  his  text,  makes  a  few  introductory 
remarks,  then  easily  and  gracefully  lays  the  book  aside,  and  proceeds  with  his 
discourse  with  nothing  before  him.  We  believe  he  thinks  this  method  enables  him 
to  approach  the  hearts  of  his  hearers  more  readily  than  when  he  is  intrenched 
behind  a  wooden  barricade. 

As  a  pulpit  orator.  Dr.  Fuller  has  few  equals,  an<l  piobably  no  superior,  in  the 
country.     Besides  rare  natural  endowments  for  sucli  a  position,  his  practice  aMhe 


548  RICHARD     FULLER. 

bar  no  doubt  contributed  to  this  result ;  and  then,  too,  he  has  the  advantage  of  a 
delivery  untrammelled  by  notes.  On  some  occasions,  as  before  stated,  even  the 
ordinary  breast-work  of  the  pulpit  is  removed,  and  he  stands  out  wholly  at  ease 
upon  the  platform,  pouring  forth  volumes  of  fervid  and  instructive  oratory  upon  an 
almost  entranced  congregation.  With  a  fuU.  round,  manly  form,  tall  and  dignified ; 
a  frank,  open  countenance,  bespeaking  the  benignity  of  his  heart;  a  flashing  eye, 
beneath  a  stately  forehead,  overhung  with  thick,  bushy,  dark  brown  hair ;  a  voice  clear, 
deep,  and  musical,  now  gentle  and  tremulous,  and  now  powerful  and  explosive, 
filling  every  part  of  the  largest  auditory ;  and  with  warmth  and  earnestness,  and 
depth  of  pathos,  and  often,  cheeks  suffused  with  tears,  he  melts  and  carries  the 
coldest  heart,  and  awakens  in  the  hardest  a  responsive  throb. 

In  his  official  position  as  pastor,  he  is  very  busily  engaged  in  visiting  and  praying 
with  his  people,  and  has  great  tact  in  introducing  the  subject  of  religion,  without  ap- 
pearing to  force  it  in.  He  is  remarkably  easy  and  pleasant  in  his  manners,  and  is 
consequently  a  favorite  in  society.  Without  losing  his  dignity,  he  has  decided 
conversational  power,  and  sometimes  sparkles  with  witty  and  epigrammatic  sayings. 
He  is  said  not  to  have  much  executive  capacity^  and  with  all  his  genial  and  social 
nature,  he  has  comparatively  little  intercourse  with  his  brother  ministers. 

Dr.  Fuller  is  withal  quite  a  student,  and  is  seldom  absent  from  his  pulpit.  The 
marked  feature  of  his  preaching  is  the  highly  spiritual  and  evangelical  element.  He 
aims  incessantly  at  the  exaltation  of  Christ,  and  the  immediate  conversion  of  men. 
On  no  theme  does  he  so  warm  and  glow  as  on  that  of  Christ  and  him  crucified. 
As  an  instance,  mention  may  be  made  of  his  celebrated  sermon  on  "  The  Cross," 
preached  before  the  General  Convention  of  the  Baptist  denomination,  April  28, 
1841.  Such  an  outpouring  of  chaste  and  fervid  eloquence,  such  gushing  forth  of 
feelings,  such  zealous,  pointed,  and  affectionate  appeals,  drawn  from  the  sufferings 
on  Calvary,  are  not  generally  seen  oftener  than  once  in  a  man's  lifetime.  The 
place  was  indeed  a  Bochim. 

The  substance  of  the  discourse,  of  which  Dr.  Fuller  has  kindly  furnished  a  copy 
for  this  work,  was  delivered  before  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention  at  its  first 
session  in  Richmond,  Va.,  June  10,  1846.  It  does  not  contain  passages  of  equal 
power  with  some  which  might  be  selected  from  the  sermon  referred  to  above, 
and  which  has  been  widely  circulated  in  various  forms;  but  yet,  as  a  whole,  it 
does  equal  credit  to  the  author's  reputation.  The  thoughts  are  edifying  and  in- 
structive, and  are  expressed  with  the  essentials  of  true  eloquence. 


THE  DESIRE   OF   ALL   NATIONS. 

"  And  the  desire  of  all  nations  shnll  come." — Haggai,  ii.  7. 

The  text  foretold  a  strange  phenomenon.  It  declared  that  the  High 
and  Lofty  One  who  inliabited  eternity,  would  be  seen  among  sinful 
men  ;  that  he  who  from  everlasting  had  dwelt  in  light  unapproachable, 
•would  assume  some  form,  and  make  his  entrance  upon  this  globe ;  that 
the  invisible  and  ever-glorious,  whom  no  man  had  seen,  nor  could  see — 


THE    DESIRE     OF     ALL    XATIOXS.  349 

the  Eternal  forever  concealed  behind  stars  and  suns,  would  vail  hig 
effulgence,  and  push  aside  those  stars  and  suns,  and  come  into  the 
"vvorld.  Such  is  the  prophecy ;  and  if  this  wonderful  event,  dimly  an- 
ticijiated,  could  agitate  and  transport  the  inmost  spirit  of  patriarch  and 
l»rophet,  flooding  them  with  rapture,  what  should  be  our  emotions  now 
— now  when  he  has  come ;  when  we  have  seen  "  the  brightness  of  the 
Father's  glory"  "  come  forth  from  the  Father,  and  come  into  the 
world  ;"  when  he  who,  "being  in  the  form  of  God,  thought  it  not  rob- 
bery to  be  equal  with  God,"  has  "  made  himself  of  no  reputation,  and 
taken  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  been  made  in  the  likeness  of 
men,  and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  has  humbled  himself  and  be- 
come obedient  unto  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross  ;"  Avhen  we  can 
say,  "without  controversy  great  is  the  mystery  of  godliness,  God  was 
manifest  in  the  flesh,  justified  in  the  S})irit,  seen  of  angels,  preached  unto 
the  Gentiles,  believed  on  in  the  Avorld,  received  up  into  glory ;"  when, 
-vWth  adoiing  confidence,  each  of  us  can  exclaim,  "  This  is  a  faithful  say- 
ing, and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world 
to  save  sinners,  of  whom  I  am  chief" 

Of  this  stupendous  and  overmastering  deed  of  love,  how  can  I  Avorthily 
speak,  who  am  a  man  of  unclean  lips,  and  live  among  a  peo2:)le  of  un- 
clean lips?  Well  have  we  done,  to  commence  from  it  a  new  era  in  the 
biograpliy  of  our  race.  Amid  the  wrecks  of  past  ages,  tJiat  transac- 
tion stands  alone  by  itself,  in  unique  and  solitary  grandeur :  and  stand 
it  forever  shall,  amid  the  waste  of  future  ages,  the  great  epoch  in  the 
cycles  of  eternity,  the  master-piece  of  infinite  power,  and  wisdom,  and 
love,  to  absorb  our  expanding  souls  long  after  this  globe  shall  have  been 
l)urged  by  fire,  and  when  all  its  records  and  annals  shall  have  been  for- 
gotten. Turning,  then,  from  the  mysterious  unutterable  glories  of  this 
"  new  thing  which  God  has  made  in  the  earth,"  let  us  come  to  what  we 
may  compass  by  our  thoughts ;  let  us  confine  ourselves  to  the  text,  and 
speak  of  the  title  here  applied  to  the  Redeemer,  regarding  the  term 
"  Desire"  as  referring  to  the  expectation^  and  the  icants,  and  the  happi- 
ness^ of  the  whole  human  family. 

I.  First,  then,  it  is  a  fact  deserving  more  attention  than  has,  I  think, 
been  bestowed  upon  it,  that  among  tlie  nations  there  has  ever  existed  a 
vn<.U-sp>read^  if  not  universal  expectation^  of  a  glorious  person,  to  be  the 
renovator  of  manhind,  and  to  impress  a  neio  character  on  the  spirit, 
Jiahits,  and  morals  of  t1ie  earth.  A  truth  this,  whoUy  inexplicable  to 
the  infidel,  but  quite  incontestable  for  all  that,  and  to  every  Christian 
admitting  of  an  easy  solution. 

Why,  my  brethren,  such  a  catastrophe  as  the  fall — who  will  believe 
that  it  could  ever  be  obliterated  from  the  memory  of  man  ?  And  if 
our  ruin,  much  more  surely  would  the  promise  of  our  redemption  be 
transmitted — a  promise  which  in  so  peculiar  a  manner  assured  the  guilty 


350  RICHARD    FULLER, 

that — "the  seed  offheicoman  should  bruise  the  serpent's  he.ad,"  and 
which  was  performed  when,  "  tlie  fulhiess  of  time  being  come,  God  sent 
forth  his  Son,  i7iade  of  a  icomcm,  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  them 
that  were  under  the  law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons." 

It  is  a  famous  question,  which  I  shall  not  disturb,  whether  the  benefits 
of  the  atonement  by  Jesus  extend  to  other  beings  besides  man.  The 
Bible  conveys  clear  intimations,  that  among  intelligences  peopling  other 
portions  of  God's  empire,  the  knowledge  was  dispersed,  both  of  the 
•legeneracy  of  our  race  and  of  some  wonderful  exjjedient  for  our  rescue. 
And  if  in  distant  provinces  of  creation,  the  advent  of  a  Saviour  into  the 
world  was  matter  of  adoring  study — away  with  tlie  thought  that  God 
would  leave  the  posterity  of  Adam  in  ignorance  of  a  transaction  so 
deeply  affecting  their  destiny,  and  of  which  this  earth  was  to  be  the 
theatre.  Accordingly,  we  find  that  such  a  revelation  was  not  only 
given,  but  perpetuated.  And  those  of  you  who  are  acquainted  with 
antiquity  know,  that  in  all  ages,  and  among  nations  most  distant  from 
each  other,  the  expectation  of  a  deliverer  has  been  cherished,  and 
cherished  everywhere  as  an  express  communication  from  1  eaven. 

The  truth  is,  that  scarcely  had  the  foil  occurred,  when  God  began  to 
announce  a  retriever  from  the  ruins  of  that  fall ;  and  in  antediluvian 
ages  we  see  him  so  busied  with  this  great  promise,  that,  studied  by  the 
light  of  faith,  the  history  of  the  world  even  then  will  appear  as  the  first 
act  in  the  grand  drama  of  redemption.  It  is  a  touching  proof  of  God's 
compassion,  that  before  the  sentence  was  uttered  against  our  guilty 
parents,  the  gospel  was  preached  to  them,  and  its  golden  notes  mingled 
tenderly  with  those  accents  of  wrath,  which  otherwise  might  have 
driven  them  to  despair.  Directly  after  this,  sacrifices  seem  to  have 
commenced— an  institution  by  which  an  innocent  victim  was  to  be  im- 
molated for  the  sins  of  man ;  a  thing  so  entirely  above  the  dictates  of 
reason,  that  we  at  once  recognize  in  it  the  appomtment  of  heaven,  and 
a  type  of  the  ]Messiah.  The  offering  of  Cain  was  as  choice  as  that  of 
Abel ;  the  latter,  however,  was  an  expiatory  sacrifice,  and  the  conduct 
of  God  to  the  two  worshipers  was  a  proclamation  never  to  be  forgotten, 
that  without  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission  of  sins  ;  hence, 
'■^hj  faith  Abel  offered  a  more  excellent  sacrifice  than  Cain."  In  short, 
brief — to  me  instructively,  most  aftectingly  brief,  as  is  the  record  of 
those  Avho  lived  before  the  flood,  their  cares,  and  passions,  and  j^leasures, 
and  pains,  all  summed  up  in  a  few  pages — yet  the  Spirit  has  supplied 
one  important  fact.  There  were  preachers  in  those  days,  whose  theme 
was  the  same  Jesus  we  preach — Enoch  especially  foretelling  his  coming, 
and.  2-)reparing  the  world  for  his  reception. 

From  the  flood  to  the  call  of  Abraham,  we  see  God  still  occupied  in 
consoling  the  earth  with  the  promise  of  its  great  restorer.  The  Scrip- 
tures, indeed,  declare  that  the  very  manner  of  Noah's  escape  was  em- 
blematical of  salvation  by  Christ.     "  The  like  figure  whereunto,"  says 


THE    DESIRE     OF    ALL    NATIONS.  351 

Peter,  "  oven  baptism,  doth  also  now  save  ns;  not  the  putting  away  of 
the  filth  of  the  flesh,  but  the  answer  of  a  good  conscience  toward  God, 
by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ."  Xo  sooner  is  that  patriarch  landed, 
than  this  second  father  of  mankind,  by  sacritices  of  blood,  inculcates  on 
his  lamily,  then  the  whole  population  of  the  earth,  the  faith  of  the  grand 
atonement.  And  upon  all  of  Jehovah's  dispensations  at  this  period  we 
discern  the  plain  shining  signatures  of  this  illustrious  doctrine.  Audience 
is  never  given  to  man  as  an  innocent  being,  but  always  as  guilty,  and 
t.lirough  the  medium  of  sacrifices. 

In  process  of  time  we  find  God  adopting  a  singular  measure.  He 
separates  one  nation  from  all  the  nations,  choosing  them,  not  because 
they  were  more  in  number  than  any  people,  but  for  this  peculiar  purpose, 
that  they  might  be  the  depositories  of  the  "  faithful  saying ;"  and  might 
show  from  afar  the  magnificent  redemption  to  be  one  day  wrought  out 
for  man.  If  patriarchs  rejoiced,  it  was  in  anticipation  of  that  event — 
Abraham  desiring  to  see  Christ's  day,  and  gladdened  by  the  sight ;  and 
Jacob  exulting  over  death,  as  he  leaned  upon  the  top  of  his  staff,  and 
turned  his  eye  to  the  ti-iumphant  Shiloh.  If  prophets  were  insjiired,  it 
was  to  confirm  the  fliithful  in  their  aspirations  for  the  Messiah  ;  so  much 
so,  "  that  the  testimony  of  Jesus  was  the  spirit  of  prophecy" — "  the 
Spirit  of  Christ  which  was  in  them,  testifying  beforehand  the  sufferings 
of  Christ  and  the  glory  that  should  follow."  Amid  the  pomp  of  royalty, 
if  monai'chs  pined  with  a  longing  for  the  gratification  of  which  they  would 
have  bartered  their  crowns,  it  was  to  see  him  who  was  all  their  desire 
and  all  their  salvation.  "  Many  kings  have  desired  to  see  those  things 
Avhich  ye  see,  and  have  not  seen  them,  and  to  hear  those  things  which  ye 
hear,  and  have  not  heard  them."  Types,  altars,  oblations,  and  all  the 
gorgeous  machinery  of  the  temple,  were  but  shadows  of  the  promised 
mercy.  In  short,  Avhcrever  among  the  Hebrews  "  righteous  men"  were 
found,  the  consummation  of  all  their  desires  would  have  been  to  witness 
the  ingress  of  the  Prince  of  Peace ;  and  in  every  Hebrew  woman's 
bosom,  concealed  but  glowing,  there  was  such  an  ambition  of  the  honor 
afterward  conferred  upon  Mary,  that  the  prophet  calls  the  Saviour,  "  tlie 
desire  of  •womfiii''' — the  fondest,  highest,  holiest  dreams  of  the  sex  ter- 
minating in  the  bliss  of  becoming  mother  to  that  Son  whom  a  virgin  was 
to  bear,  whose  name  would  "  be  called  Immanuel,  "Wonderful,  Coun- 
selor, Mighty  God,  Everlasting  Father,  and  of  whose  government  and 
peace  there  should  be  no  end." 

Up  to  this  point,  then,  in  all  ages  preceding  the  birth  of  Christ,  you 
see  how  that  wonderful  ejiiphany  was  the  engrossing  theme  of  i)iety  and 
inspiration.  And  here  let  me  repeat  two  important  remarks  which  have 
been  already  matle,  and  which  we  should  always  take  with  ns  when 
perusing  the  books  of  the  Old  Testament.  The  first  is,  that  during  thia 
period  the  expectation  of  a  wonderful  porsorage  to  change  and  mold  the 
destiny  of  the  world,  was  not  confined  to  the  Jews,  but  was  diffused 


352  RICHARD     FULLER. 

through  the  earth.  It  was  imj^ersonated  in  Melchisedec ;  it  sustained 
the  sufferer  of  Iduraea — who,  wheu  all  was  desolation  around  and 
within,  exclaimed,  "  I  know  th  .t  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and  that  he 
shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon  tie  earth  ;"  it  fired  the  lips  of  Balaam ; 
it  was  scattered  over  Asia,  Africa,  Sicily,  and  the  islands  of  the  Archi- 
pelago, and  from  thence  was  conveyed  to  Rome,  and  treasured  among 
those  Sibylhne  oracles  which  even  the  wisest  men  revered  as  sacred ; 
and  it  prevailed,  as  Tacitus  and  Suetonius  inform  us,  most  anciently,  all 
over  the  East. 

This  is  one  striking  fact,  and  the  other  is,  the  existence  everj^where  of 
sacrifices,  and  the  fixith  of  appeasing  the  Deity  by  blood,  by  the  substi- 
tution of  the  innocent  for  the  guilty.  Unite  now  these  two  truths,  and 
how  incontestable  is  the  assertion,  that  from  the  fall  to  the  advent  of 
Jesus  Christ,  there  was  a  general  expectation  of  the  mighty  victim  of 
Calvary,  which  justifies  the  application  to  him  of  this  title  "  the  Desire 
of  all  nations," 

We  come  now  to  the  great  advent;  and  as  the  nativity,  and  afterward 
the  public  manifestation,  of  the  Saviour  approach,  the  truth  I  am  urging 
becomes  confirmed  on  all  hands,  and  the  earth  is  agitated  by  premoni- 
tions and  prognostications  exciting  most  intense  concern.  In  the  west, 
at  Rome,  the  meti-opolis  of  the  earth,  and  only  a  few  years  before  the 
appearance  of  Christ,  Julius  Caesar  seeks  to  subvert  the  liberties  of  his 
country,  aspiring  to  a  throne ;  and  by  what  argument  is  his  claim  sup., 
ported  ?  His  friends  appeal  to  an  oracle  in  the  temple,  predicting  a 
king  to  arise  at  that  time  whose  reign  should  be  without  bounds,  and 
whose  government  should  secure  the  happiness  of  mankind.  And  ia  a 
work  almost  contemporaneous  with  the  birth  at  Bethlehem,  the  most 
celebrated  of  the  Latin  poets  rehearses  this  oracle,  declaring  it  now 
about  to  be  accomplished,  and  employing,  as  to  the  wonderful  offspring, 
almost  the  very  images  and  language  of  Isaiah  himself.  In  the  East, 
the  light  to  enlighten  the  Gentiles  is  not  only  seen  from  afar,  but  shines 
so  clearly,  that  the  sages  leave  their  homes  and  studies,  and  repair  to  the 
birth-place,  doing  homage  to  the  kingly  Star  of  Jacob. 

Above  all,  in  Judea,  and  at  the  scene  of  this  amazing  mystery,  how  is 
every  thing  in  commotion,  and  from  every  quarter  what  notes  of  prep- 
aration !  Does  the  Hebrew  enter  the  temple  or  walk  the  streets  of 
Jerusalem  ?  he  sees  the  most  devout  and  venerable  of  his  nation  bend- 
ing with  years,  yet  rejoicing  that  even  their  foding  eyes  should  "  behold 
the  Consolation  of  Israel."  Does  he  leave  the  city  ?  among  the  hills,  and 
buried  in  cells  upon  the  mountains,  he  finds  those  holy  hermits  of  whom 
Joseph  us  speaks,  absorbed  with  the  immediate  coming  of  Messiah, 
waiting  to  form  his  escort,  and  vindicating  their  sublime  hope  by  proi)h- 
ecies  not  to  be  mistaken.  From  oiit  the  dreary  depths  of  the  wilderness, 
and  along  the  verdant  banks  of  the  Jordan,  resounds  perpetually  the 
voice  of  a  most  extraordinary  man,  au  austere  herald,  who  has  drawn  all 


THE     DESIRE     OF     ALL     NATIONS.  353 

eyes  upon  him  as  a  prophet  "  with  the  spirit  and  poAver  of  Elias,"  and 
who  still  utters  the  startling  cry,  "Prepare  ye  the  vraj  of  tlie  Lord; 
make  straiglit  in  the  desert  a  highway  for  our  God."  In  fine,  my  breth- 
ren, so  eager  and  univei-sal  Avas  the  expectation*  of  a  great  deliverer, 
that  as  soon  as  John  appeared,  multitudes  flocked  and  crowded  about 
him  ;  and  the  inqr.iry,  "Art  thou  he  ?  Art  thou  he  ?"  a  question  never 
before  proposed  to  any  of  the  propliets,  now  breaks  from  their  impatient 
lips  ;  and  if  they  surrender  their  convictions,  it  is  most  rekictantly,  and 
only  Avhcn  the  Baptist  "  confesses  and  denies  not,  but  confesses  that  ho 
is  not  the  Christ,"  but  merely  his  harbinger,  and  not  worthy  to  perform 
even  the  most  menial  office,  such  as  unloosing  his  sandals,  for  that  exalted 
personage. 

Nor,  my  brethren  (though  it  is  out  of  place  to  make  the  remark  here), 
was  the  sensation  felt  by  the  inhabitants  of  this  earth  alone.  Other  and 
very  different  orders  of  intelligence  Avere  moved  at  the  astonishing 
phenomenon.  On  the  night  Avhcn  the  Saviour  was  born,  hell,  I  make  no 
doubt,  stood  aghast  and  marshaled  all  its  forces,  and  commenced  in 
Herod  and  the  massacre  of  the  children,  that  infernal  conspiracy  Avhich 
pursued  the  Redeemer  through  his  life,  and  seemed  to  triumph,  but  was 
most  gloriously  discomfited,  at  the  cross.  And  all  heaven,  we  are  ex- 
pressly informed,  was  filled  with  a  sympathy  most  thrilling  and  ecstatic. 
Man,  those  glorious  beings  had  known  in  Eden,  and  had  loved  Avith  the 
love  of  a  brother  for  a  younger  sister.  The  dismal  hour  of  man's  fall 
they  had  Avitnessed ;  nor  can  any  tell  their  emotions  Avhen,  amid  tlie 
bowers  of  Paradise,  there  rang  that  shriek,  Death,  death  is  in  the  Avorld  ! 
And  now  Avhen  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory  stoops  to  that 
Avorld,  and  on  such  an  errand,  Avhat  Avonder  and  rapture  seize  their 
adoring  thoughts.  All  along  their  radiant,  countless  files,  roll  anthems 
of  high  exultation,  and  then,  Avheeling  down,  they  pour  u})on  the  listening 
oar  of  Palestine  the  music  of  the  skies. 

Yes,  my  brethren,  not  only  on  this  scene  of  his  love  and  grief,  but  in 
other  and  distant  places  were  felt  the  communications  of  uruitteral^le 
intei'cst  AA'hen  the  Day-spring  from  on  high  visited  us.  And  if,  wlien  ho 
came,  the  Avorld  kncAV  him  not,  and  honored  him  not,  he  Avas  not  Avith- 
out  honor,  such  as  no  mere  creature  can  receive.  True,  no  star  formed 
by  mortal  hands  Avould  ever  glitter  upon  his  breast,  for  he  was  to  be  de- 
S])ised  and  rejected  of  men  ;  but  a  star  made  by  eternal  hands  moves 
along  the  heavens,  and,  stopping  in  reverence,  showers  its  lustre  upon 
his  cradle.  No  illuminated  ca})ital  or  palace  hails  his  approach,  for  he 
comes  at  midnight,  and  in  an  humble  village,  but  "tlie  glory  of  the 
Lord  shines  around,"  and  beams  from  the  Shekinah  ii-radiate  the  earth. 
Xo  troops  of  admiring  courtiers  Avelcome  the  incarnate  God — O  no  ! 
LoAv  lies  his  liead  in  a  manger,  and  among  the  herds  of  the  stall ;  but  a 

*  Luke,  iii.  ]  5,  "  And  as  the  people  were  in  expectation,  and  all  men  mused  m  their 
hearts  of  John,  whether  he  wer.-  the  Christ,"  oto. 

23 


354  RICnARD     FULLER. 

retinue  of  strong  and  immortal  cherubim  and  seraphim  adore  the  Lord 
of  glory,  and  shake  the  night  air  of  Galilee  with  praises  for  that  birth 
wliich  would  give  "  glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace, 
good-will  toward  men." 

The  Expectation  of  all  nations  shall  come !  You  now  perceive,  my 
brethren,  with  what  propriety  in  this  view  the  Saviour  is  called  "  the 
Desire  of  all  nations."  As  in  those  regions  where  the  sun  is  hid  for 
months,  all  console  themselves  with  anticipations  of  his  light,  and  turn 
instinctively  to  the  point  whei-e  he  will  appear,  and,  when  the  dawn  ap- 
proaches, abandon  their  pursuits,  and  dress  themselves  in  their  richest 
garments,  and  climb  the  highest  hills  to  greet  his  first  rays,  so  was  it 
with  the  Sun  of  righteousness.  The  expectation  of  a  deliverer  cheered 
the  earth  in  its  gloomiest  darkness.  As  the  fullness  of  time  drew  near, 
the  gaze  of  all  settled  upon  that  quarter  where  the  Luminary  Avas  to 
arise,  the  pious  and  the  wise  secluded  themselves  from  all  their  avo- 
cations, and,  in  the  sublimest  tliith  and  loftiest  contemplations,  watched 
for  that  morning  which  was  to  know  no  night,  but  forever  give  light  to 
them  who  sat  in  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  death,  and  guide  the 
wretched  in  the  way  of  peace. 

But  it  is  time  to  pass  to  our  second  article,  and  to  consider  this  title  of 
the  Saviour  in  another  view,  and  with  reference  to  the  toants  of  man- 
kind ;  for  as  regards  these  also,  he  is  emphatically  "  the  Desire  of  all 
nations." 

n.  The  words  rendered  "the  Desire  of  all  nations,"  mean,  in  fict,  the 
want,  the  good  needed,  the  grand  desideratum  of  all  the  people  of  the 
earth.  Nor,  were  this  the  place,  would  it  be  difficult  to  vindicate  the 
text  thus  considered,  both  politically  and  socially,  and  to  prove  that 
those  nations  upon  whom  the  gospel  shines,  occupy  summits  gilded  and 
gladdened  by  the  orb  of  day,  while  all  others  are  still  in  the  deep  val- 
leys, not  yet  penetrated  by  his  rays.  Why,  my  brethren,  look  abroad 
upon  the  governments  of  the  earth.  Who  need  be  told  that  righteous- 
ness exalteth  a  nation,  that  Christianity  alone  can  inbreed  and  nourish 
true  patriotism,  and  that  whatever  be  the  form  of  civil  polity,  it  will 
prove  a  blessing  or  a  scourge,  just  as  rulers  obey  or  violate  the  precepts 
of  the  gospel  ?  And  so,  too,  as  to  the  arts  and  sciences,  as  to  Hberty 
and  order,  as  to  every  virtue  which  adorns  a  people  (and  woe,  above 
all  lands,  to  this  republic,  when  such  virtues  come  to  be  worn  only  with 
a  loose  and  disheveled  decency),  in  all  these  respects,  while  it  is  true 
that  each  age  and  nation  hath  its  peculiar  character,  how  \mequivocal  is 
the  testimony  of  history,  that  the  characters  of  all  depend  ujion  the 
infusion  or  rejection  of  the  principles  of  the  gospel. 

I  am  not,  however,  a  politician  or  a  philosopher,  but  a  preacher.  It  is 
not  my  design  to  speak  of  political  or  ethical  defects,  but  of  wants  far 
more  profound  and  pressing — tl)e  wants  of  the  soul,  the  necessities  of 


THE     DESIRE    OF    ALL    ^STATIONS.  355 

the  immortal  spirit,  exigencies  which  no  .arthly  sclieme  of  polity,  oi 
])hilosophy,  or  religion,  has  ever  even  recognized,  but  which  the  gos}»el 
l)oth  reaches  and  abundantly  satisfies.  The  entire  system  of  tlie  Bible, 
indeed,  and  every  provision  of  the  gospel,  has  this  great  peculiarity:  it 
addresses  man  as  carrying  within  him  the  consciousness  of  wants  over- 
looked by  all  teachers  except  Jesus  Christ — wants  which  make  him  poor, 
and  blind,  and  naked,  and  miserable,  while  he  pretends  to  be  rich  and 
increased  in  goods.  Christianity  takes  for  granted  a  guilt  and  ruin,  such 
as  no  human  expedient  could  meet.  It  is  precisely  on  this  account — it 
is  because  of  its  exact  adaptation  to  all  the  dreadful  emergencies  of  our 
condition,  that  the  great  salvation  has  trumphed  and  must  triumph ;  that 
Jesus  must  i-eign  till  he  hath  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet ;  that  Christ 
lifted  up  will  draw  all  men  unto  him  ;  that  all  nations  shall  call  him 
blessed,  and  that  unto  him  shall  the  gathering  of  the  people  be.  And  if 
you  do  not  already  feel  all  the  force  of  this  truth,  suffer  me  to  explain  it 
to  you. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  my  hearers,  wherever  a  human  being  is  found, 
there  will  be  found  a  conscience — a  moral  sense — ignorant  perhaps — per- 
ha])s  stupefied,  but  still  asserting,  at  least  periodically,  its  mysterious 
power,  and  reverberating,  through  all  the  chambers  of  the  soul,  those 
thunders  which  awe  and  terrify  the  guilty.  "This  is  the  curse  which 
goeth  forth  over  the  face  of  the  whole  earth,"  and  secretly  appalls  the 
proudest,  and  flashes  in  upon  the  liardest,  through  all  their  steel  and 
adamant,  convictions  that  cleave,  and  agitate,  and  shake  the  soul  with 
terror ;  nor  from  this  pressure  of  unpardoned  sin  has  man  ever  found, 
nor  will  man  ever  find,  deliverance  but  by  the  blood  of  Christ.  Let  men 
afl:ect  to  despise  the  gospel,  and  seek  to  persecute  its  ministers  and  stifle 
its  light :  that  gospel  has  in  their  bosoms  a  ministry  they  can  not  resist, 
a  radiance  they  can  not  extinguish ;  and  wiiile  their  hands  are  reeking 
Avith  persecution,  the  fell  murderers  of  Christ,  the  ruthless,  ferocious 
Saul,  the  cruel  jailor,  ask  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved.  Let  men 
plunge  into  excesses,  and  seek  in  vice  and  revelry  to  drown  the  inward 
forebodings,  the  fearful  looking-for  of  judgment.  ''  Though  they  dig  into 
hell,"  saith  God,  by  his  prophet,  "  thence  shall  my  hand  take  them  ; 
though  they  bury  themselves  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  I  will  command 
tlie  serpent  to  sting  them  there."  And  Belshazzar,  amid  his  delirious 
cai'ousals,  and  Felix,  triumphant  in  all  his  schemes  of  rapine  and  voluji- 
tuousness,  find  their  faces  gathering  paleness,  and  their  frames  shivering 
with  terrors  they  can  not  conceal.  In  a  word,  let  men  seek  by  mew. 
repentance  to  atone  for  guilt :  it  is  in  vain.  Everywhere  the  imploring 
cry  is  heard,  for  some  medium,  some  mediator,  between  God  and  man. 
AVlierever  humanity  is  diffused,  there  the  deep,  earnest,  imploring  excla- 
mation is,  "Wherewith  shall  I  come  before  the  Lord,  and  bow  myself 
before  the  high  God  ;  shall  I  come  before  him  Avith  burnt-offerings,  ^vith 
calves  of  a  year  old  ;  will  the  Lord  be  pleased  with  thousands  of  rams,  or 


356  EICHARD     FULLER. 

with  ten  tliousancls  of  rivers  of  oil ;  shall  I  give  ray  first-born  for  ray 
transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  of  ray  soul  ?"  and  blood, 
blood,  flowing  in  every  land,  altars  groaning  with  victiras,  hecatombs 
smoking  with  gore,  lacerating  hooks  and  torturing  pilgrimages,  the  red- 
dened axles  of  Juggernaut,  and  the  wail  of  anguished  women  on  the 
Ganges,  attest  the  inefficacy  of  i-epentance  to  give  peace  to  the  con- 
science. No,  my  brethren,  the  great  want  of  a  guilty  world  is  the 
atonement  of  Calvary.  It  is  the  Lamb  of  God  alone  who  taketh  away 
the  sin  of  the  world.  To  him,  John,  the  great  preacher  and  impersonOf 
tion  of  repentance^  pointed  ;  in  him  there  is  a  redundancy  of  merit  for 
the  vilest ;  from  his  cross  there  floats  down  a  voice,  saying,  "  Look  unto 
me  and  be  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth  !"  And  in  this  view,  how  truly 
is  the  Saviour  "  the  Desire  of  all  nations,"  bringing  "  peace  to  them  that 
are  nigh  and  to  them  that  are  afar  ofi"." 

Guilt !  To  the  want  produced  by  guilt,  add  now  that  created  by  the 
corruption  which  sin  hath  shed  through  our  nature,  blinding  the  mind, 
perverting  the  will,  and  not  only  encasing  the  heart  in  obduracy,  but 
filling  it  with  enmity  to  God ;  a  corruption  so  entire,  and  universal,  and 
self-proi)agating  that  the  Bible  employs, in  portraying  it, the  most  fiight- 
ful  image,  and  pronounces  all  men,  not  only  without  life,  but  dead — 
meaning  by  death  not  raerely  the  absetice,  but  the  ojyposite  of  Hfe ; 
death  as  a  principle,  a  power  so  active,  so  terrific  in  its  destructive 
energy,  that  in  a  few  hours  it  reduces  to  a  mass  of  disgusting  putrefac- 
tion all  the  vigor  and  beauty  which  the  more  sluggish  element  of  life 
had  been  for  years  maturing  and  perfecting.  "  All,"  say  the  Scriptures, 
"  are  dead,  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins."  Such  is  the  natural  condition  of 
the  whole  world ;  and  were  men  left  to  themselves,  this  corruption,  this 
virus,  this  leprous  essence,  would  forever  work,  and  spread,  and  forever 
feed  the  deathless  worm  and  the  quenchless  fire.  And  as  most  glo- 
riously "the  Life  of  the  ^vorld,"  as  he  who  "has  come  that  we  may  have 
life,  and  have  it  more  abundantly"  than  by  the  first  infusion ;  that  the 
Spirit  may  quicken,  and  purify,  and  renovate,  and  pour  into  the  imper- 
ishable fabric,  the  elixir  of  immortal  strength  and  vigor — in  this  view, 
how  truly  is  Jesus  "the  Desire  of  all  nations." 

Li  fine,  take  but  one  thought  more :  the  just  anger  of  God — that 
wrath  which  hangs  in  unmitigated  blackness  over  a  guilty  world,  and 
from  Avhich  there  is  no  refuge  but  at  the'  cross  of  Christ.  The  wrath  of 
God,  ray  hearers,  is  a  calamity  without  a  name — a  calamity  which  none 
can  comprehend — which  it  will  require  eternity  to  coraprehend  and 
deplore ;  and  even  the  possibility  of  incurring  it,  must  fill  a  reflecting 
mind  with  unspeakable  concern  and  alarm.  In  heaven  it  once  burned  a 
little,  and,  promptly  as  the  peal  follows  the  flash,  carae  the  crisis  upon 
the  crime.  Forthwith,  without  any  waiting  for  a  second  ofiense,  with- 
out hope  or  respite,  angels  were  weeded  out  of  their  "  first  estate." 
Radiant  cherubim  and  seraphun,  the  choice  and  prime  of  all  the  celestial 


THE     DESIRE     OF    ALL    NATION^'.  357 

hierarchy,  withered  into  devils,  and  sank  all  flaming  into  hell,  flung 
from  eternal  splendor  down  to  bottomless  perdition,  where  they  now  lie, 
"reserved  in  everlasting  chains,  under  darkness,  unto  the  judgment  of 
the  great  day,"  And  not  only  are  all  the  children  of  Adam,  "  children 
of  wrath,"  but  all  hear  the  premonition,  all  hear  that  cry,  "Flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come."  All  know  that  the  consciousness  of  guilt  is  the 
prophecy  of  vengeance  ;  and,  until  sheltered  in  Jesus,  all  stand  helpless 
and  hopeless,  exposed  to  the  lurid  cloud  which  is  only  suspended  for  a 
while — only  waits  till  it  shall  have  been  charged  and  burdened  with 
storms,  and  fires,  and  every  deadly  material,  when  it  will  break  and 
beat  forever  on  their  heads,  and  pour  a  deluge  of  eternal  wrath  upon 
their  souls.  And  in  this  view,  is  not  Christ — that  Jesus  who  "  hath 
delivered  us  from  the  wrath  to  come" — O !  is  he  not  "  the  Desire  of  all 
nations  ?" 

It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  details  on  this  article,  but  I  must  not. 
It  were  easy  to  show,  that  in  reference  to  the  most  profound  and  press- 
ing necessities  of  man, -the  gospel  is  the  great  desideratum — literally,  the 
one  thing  needful.  The  spiritual  wants  of  every  age,  and  clime,  and 
class,  declare  how  worthy  of  all  acceptation  is  the  faithful  saying ;  and 
the  assertion  would  not  be  at  all  extravagant,  should  I  use  the  image 
of  the  apostle,  and  say,  that  where  Christ  is  not  known,  the  earnest 
expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth  for  his  manifestation,  and  the  whole 
creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together,  for  a  deliverance  he 
alone  can  bestow.  Justice  pursues;  vengeance  . thunders ;  conscience 
shoots  its  clear  and  ghastly  flashes ;  Satan  sways  his  baleful  sceptre  ; 
death  "reigns  over  all,"  trampling  the  nations  under  the  hoofs  of  that 
terrible  pale  horse  ;  and  after  death,  "hell  follows."  Such  is  the  state 
of  man ;  nor  is  there  any  hope  for  him  but  in  the  Redeemer.  Until  that 
Sun  of  eternity  arise,  a  canopy  of  perdition  and  despair  envelops  him, 
"  clouds  and  ever  during  dark  surround  him,"  and  he  turns  on  every  side 

"  Eyes  that  roll  in  vain, 
To  find  the  piercing  ray,  and  find  no  dawn." 

III.  Our  last  article  requires  scarcely  a  word  from  me.  Here,  I  had 
proposed  to  consider  the  epithet,  "  desire,"  as  synonymous  with  happi- 
ness, and  it  can  not  be  necessary  to  prove  that  the  happiness  of  all  nuist 
be  found  in  Christ.  Not  that  all  feel  this,  for  men,  alas  !  ignorant  on  all 
subjects,  are  most  ignorant  as  to  what  constitutes  their  true  felicity,  and 
thus  call  that  good  which  they  love,  and  reject  and  hate  the  gospel  which 
condemns  their  sins.  Yet  it  is  not  less  true,  that  only  Jesus  can  confer 
true  happiness  ;  he  alone  can  say,  "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

Happiness,  because  the  mind  of  man  can  only  rejoice  iu  truth,  and 
Christ  is  "  the  truth."  Without  him,  we  grope  darkling  in  mazes  of 
error,  and  are  perplexed  and  wretched  amid  doubts  and  speculations  as 


358  RICHARD     FULLER. 

to  all  it  most  concerns  us  to  know.  Happiness,  because  the  heart  of  man 
can  be  satisfied  only  with  objects  worthy  of  it,  and  Christ  alone  proposes 
those  objects — objects  v,^hich  fix  the  heart,  but  without  which  the  passions 
wander,  in  unrest  and  pining,  through  creation,  fretting  themselves  with 
things  gross  and  sensual,  whose  possession  only  stings  us  into  a  conscious- 
ness of  our  immortality,  and  whose  best  gifts  are  only  a  pleasing  degrada- 
tion. Happiness,  lastly,  because  God  is  the  life  of  the  soul,  and  Christ 
alone  reveals  this  being,  and  reinstates  us  in  his  favor  and  love.  To  be 
without  Chiist,  say  the  Scriptures,  is  to  be  without  God  ;  and  to  be  with- 
out  God,  is  to  be  severed  from  the  supreme  good,  to  be  cut  oif  from  the 
source  of  all  joy,  to  have  our  souls  cursed  and  blasted  now,  and,  dying  thus, 
they  must  become  forever  most  desolate  and  wretched — the  orphans  of  the 
universe,  the  outcasts  of  eternity.    But,  as  I  said,  a  word  here  will  suffice. 

The  subject,  my  brethren,  on  which  you  have  been  addressed,  is  one 
very  dear  to  me,  not  only  for  its  interest,  but  as  the  common  joy  and 
glory  of  all  Christians.  It  is  because  the  disciples  of  Jesus  wander  from 
the  cross,  that  they  are  separated,  and  walk  over  hidden  fires  forever 
flaming  up  in  controversy.  As  they  gather  around  this  sacred  altar,  one 
heart  glows  in  every  breast,  and  all  the  elements  of  strife  are  melted  and 
fused  into  one  monopolizing  love  for  God  and  for  each  other. 

And,  now,  in  applying  this  discourse,  what  shall  I  say  ?  Why,  my 
hearers,  the  very  entrance  of  such  a  being  into  this  world,  and  the  mis- 
sion of  which  this  earth  was  the  theatre,  how  astonishing  and  absorbing. 
Tiiere  are  times  in  the  lives  of  all  men,  when  we  feel  that  we  are  not  all 
matter  ;  when  our  thoughts  wander  far  away  from  the  finite  and  mutable, 
and  become  fimiliar  with  eternity ;  when  our  souls  are  agitated  with  the 
mystery  of  that  eternal  Spirit  by  which  they  are  encompassed — are  athirst 
for  God — and  ascending  to  the  perfect  and  ever-glorious,  exclaim,  in  the 
language  of  Philip,  "  Shew  us  the  Father,  and  it  sufiiceth  us." 

My  brethren,  that  God,  that  eternal  Spirit,  has  rent  the  vail  and 
shown  himself  in  our  midst.  The  word  which  "  in  the  beginning  was 
with  God,  and  was  God,  was  made  flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us."  "  Christ 
Jesus  has  come  into  the  world."  And,  now,  what  movement  should  stir 
our  minds  ?  In  Chiist,  "  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh."  He  is  "  the 
image  of  the  invisible  God,"  "  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and 
express  image  of  his  person."  "  He  that  hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the 
Father."  In  his  temper,  the  character  of  the  Deity  was  impersonated  ; 
in  his  life,  the  attributes  of  the  Deity  were  embodied  ;  in  his  cross,  the 
very  heart  of  the  Deity  is  disclosed  to  our  love.  What  a  being  !  Search 
creation  through,  explore  the  universe,  scale  all  heights,  fathom  all 
depths — no  such  object  can  be  found  for  the  admiring,  adoring  contem- 
plations of  the  mind,  the  imagination,  the  heart. 

Having  gazed  upon  this  wonderful  being,  think  next  of  the  enterDrise 
on  which  he  came,  and  the  cost  at  which  that  enterprise  was  achieved. 
The  enterprise !      Think  of  that — it  was  the  salvation  of  man.      The 


THE     DESIPE     OF      ^LL    NATIONS.  359 

devils  saw  him  and  exclaimod,  "  What  have  we  to  do  loith  thee  .^"  As 
if  they  had  said,  "  Thou  hast  not  come  to  save  us,"  No,  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  him  ;  but  we  have  every  thing  to  do  with  him ;  since 
he  came  for  us  men  and  our  salvation.  O,  when  the  Invisible  steps  forth 
upon  this  scene  of  visible  things,  on  such  a  mission,  and  in  such  a  form, 
must  not  our  hearts  yield,  melt,  love,  worship,  adoi'e  ? 

The  enterprise — ami,  then,  the  cost !  From  everlasting  there  he  sat, 
the  princely  majesty  of  the  universe,  amid  admiring,  adoring  thrones, 
and  principalities,  and  powers,  who  drank  in  love  and  blessedness  from 
his  smiling  countenance,  and  forever  caused  the  golden  atmosphere  to 
re-echo  his  praises.  But  he  left  all.  He  abdicated  all  "  the  throne  and 
equipage  of  God's  almightiness."  Thei-e  was  something  sweeter  to  his 
heart  than  all  the  harmonies  and  ecstacies  of  heaven.  It  was  meixy 
— ^it  Avas  pity  for  our  wretchedness — and  he  came,  he  flew,  he  stooped 
and  took  our  nature  in  its  meanest  and  most  mournful  conditions.  And, 
in  this  nature,  what  sufferings  did  he  not  endure — sufferings  which 
destroyed  his  life,  though  they  could  not  destroy  his  love.  Think  of 
these,  and  how  are  you  affected  ?  "  Christ,"  says  Peter,  "  hath  once 
suffered  for  sins,  the  just  for  the  unjust ;"  but  in  that  once^  Avhat  suffer- 
ings were  not  concentrated.  Ah  !  miserable  sinner,  from  eternity  had 
the  only-begotten  reposed  in  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  and  now  see  him 
leaving  that  bosom  and  taking  the  form  of  a  servant  for  you.  From 
eternity  had  the  fairest  among  ten  thousands,  and  the  one  altogether 
lovely,  been  rich  in  the  glories  and  hosannas  of  the  skies ;  and  now  see 
him  becoming  poor  for  you — so  poor  that,  living,  he  had  not  where 
to  lay  his  head  ;  and,  dying,  he  would  have  been  buried,  but  for  charity, 
like  a  common  malefactor,  by  the  highway  side.  Follow  the  adorable 
Jesus  from  scene  to  scene  of  ever  deepening  insult  and  sorrow,  tracked 
everywhere  by  spies  hunting  for  th&  precious  blood.  Behold  his  sacred 
face  swollen  with  tears  and  stripes.  And,  last  of  all,  ascend  Mount 
Calvary,  and, view  there  the  amazing  spectacle;  earth  and  hell  gloating 
on  the  gashed  form  of  the  Lord  of  glory ;  men  and  devils  glutting  their 
malice  in  the  agony  of  the  Prince  of  life ;  and  all  the  scattered  rays  of 
vengeance  which  would  have  consumed  our  guilty  race,  converging  and 
beating  in  focal  intensity  upon  him,  of  Avhom  the  Eternal  twice  exclaimed, 
in  a  voice  from  heaven,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased."  After  this,  what  are  our  emotions  ?  Can  we  ever  be  cold  or 
faithless  ?  No,  my  brethren,  it  is  impossible,  unless  we  forget  this  Sav- 
iour, and  lose  sight  of  that  cross  on  which  he  poured  out  his  soul  for  us. 

That  is  an  affecting  passage  in  Roman  history,  which  records  the  death 
of  ]Manlius.  At  night,  and  on  the  Capitol,  fighting  hand  to  hand,  had  he 
repelled  the  Gauls,  and  saved  the  city  when  all  seemed  lost.  Afterward 
he  was  accused  :  but  the  Capitol  towered  in  sight  of  the  Forum  whei'e  he 
was  tried ;  and,  as  he  was  about  to  bo  condemned,  he  stretched  out  his 
bauds  and  pointed,  weeping,  to  that  arena  of  his  triumph.     At  this,  tho 


860  ■    RICHARD    FULLER. 

people  burst  into  tears,  and  the  judges  could  not  pronounce  sentence 
Again  the  trial  proceeded,  but  was  again  defeated  nor  could  he  be  con- 
victed until  they  had  removed  him  to  a  low  spot,  fiom  which  the  Caj)itol 
was  invisible.  And,  behold,  ray  brethren,  what  I  am  saying.  While  the 
cross  is  in  view,  vainly  will  earth  and  sin  seek  to  shake  the  Christian's 
loyalty  and  devotion — one  look  at  that  purple  monument  of  a  love  Avhich 
alone,  and  when  all  was  dark  and  lost,  interposed  for  our  i-escue — and 
their  efforts  will  be  baffled.  Low  must  we  sink,  and  blotted  from  our 
hearts  must  be  the  memory  of  that  deed,  before  we  can  become  faithless 
to  the  Redeemer's  cause,  and  perfidious  to  his  glory. 

But  this  thought  has  carried  me  beyond  all  bounds.  I  return,  and 
^nth  a  single  reflection  more  I  finish.  That  reflection  regards  our  duties, 
and  the  solemn  responsibilities  which  the  subject  charges  home  upon  us  all. 

My  impenitent  hearer,  how  loudly  does  the  text  speak  to  you ;  and 
I  can  not  sit  down  without  asking,  What  think  you  of  Christ  ?  How  are 
you  treating  him  who  came  and  who  seeks  to  save  you  ?  You  have 
heard  that  he  is  the  desire  of  all  nations ;  tell  me,  is  he  your  desire  or 
aversion  ? — will  you  receive  and  obey  him,  or  are  you  resolved  still  to 
say,  "not  this  man,  but  Barabbas?"  Recollect,  without  him  you  can 
have  no  peace  now — your  deepest,  strongest  wants  must  be  unsatisfied — 
the  whole  creation  can  not  make  you  happy.  Recollect,  you  will  soon 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  die;  then  "the  desire  of  the  wicked  shall  j^er- 
ish,"  and  what  will  become  of  you  ?  Soon  the  Saviour  will  come  again, 
and  very  differently.  "  Behold  he  cometh  Avith  clouds,  and  every  eye 
shall  see  him,  and  they  also  which  pierced  him,  and  all  kindreds  of  the 
earth  shall  wail  because  of  him."  And  then,  when  you  call  upon  mount- 
ains to  cover  you,  and  abysses  to  shelter  you,  how  will  your  present  con- 
duct appear?  And. what  a  wail  will  be  yours  when,  shattering  the  air, 
and  shattering  your  soul,  that  sentence  shall  be  pronounced,  "Depart, 
accursed,  into  everlasting  fire  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels !" 

It  is,  however,  to  us  Christians  that  the  application  of  the  text  espe- 
cially belongs  at  this  time,  and  in  our  bosoms  how  many  thoughts  ought 
it  to  awaken.  True  (O  blessed  be  God  for  this),  .Tesus  Christ  is  all  our 
desire  and  all  our  salvation.  We  know  him  as  such,  and  our  souls  do 
magnify  the  Lord.  But,  with  the  possession  of  this  blessing,  what  re- 
sponsibilities devolve  upon  us ! 

My  very  dear  brethren,  is  Christ  the  Desire  of  all  nations  f  Then 
why  are  there  so  many  nations  still  ignorant  of  Christ?  The  angel  de- 
clared that  the  tidings  should  be  to  all  people — why,  then,  have  so  many 
not  heard  those  tidings?  The  Saviour's  connnand  is,  "Go  ye  into  all 
the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  c-eature" — why,  then,  have 
not  the  heralds  of  the  gospel  traversed  the  eaith  ?  The  answer  to  these 
questions  I  blush  to  give ;  it  is  (shame  on  our  covetousness — the  reproach 
of  our  country  and  of  our  churches),  that  Christians  have  not  done,  and 
will  not  do,  their  duty. 


THE     DESIRE     OF     ALL    NATIONS.  361 

Ah!  my  brethren,  my  brethren,  just  now, as  I  surveyed  the  cross,  1 
pronouncejd  it  ahuost  impossible  for  us  to  be  fliithless  to  Christ ;  but 
alas !  when  I  turn  from  the  cross  to  the  conduct  of  Christians,  I  have 
most  painfully  to  confess  my  mistake.  Where  is  the  Spiiit  of  Christ 
among  us?  Upon  Avhom  has  his  mantle  fallen,  all  wet  with  tears  for  the 
perishing?  "When  he  saw  the  mukitudes  he  was  moved  with  compas- 
sion on  them,  because  they  fainted  and  Avere  scattered  abroad,  as  sheep 
having  no  shepherd ;"  how  few  are  affected  with  such  a  sight  now. 
"Five  hundred  millions  of  souls,"  exclaimed  a  missionary,  "are  repre- 
sented as  being  unenlightened.  I  can  not,  if  I  would,  give  up  the  idea 
of  being  a  missionary,  while  I  reflect  upon  this  vast  number  of  my  fel- 
low-sinners who  are  perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge.  Five  hundred 
luiilions !  intrudes  itself  upon  my  mind  wherever  I  go,  and  however  I 
am  employed.  When  I  go  to  bed  it  is  the  last  thing  that  occurs  to  my 
memory;  if  I  awake  in  the  night,  it  is  to  meditate  on  it  alone,  and  in  the 
morning  it  is  generally  the  first  thing  that  occupies  my  thoughts."  N"or 
is  it  only  the  heathen  at  a  distance ;  among  ourselves  how  many  thou- 
sands of  the  sons  of  Ethioj^ia  are  stretching  out  their  hands,  and  -how 
have  they  been  neglected.  My  brethren,  let  us  awake  to  our  responsi- 
bility ere  the  wrath  of  God  wake  us  to  sleep  no  more,  and  the  cry  which 
goeth  up  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth  attract  his  righteous 
indignation. 

Is  Christ  the  Desire  of  all  nations  ?  Then,  my  brethren,  let  us 
preach  Christ ;  and  let  our  missionaries  preach  Christ.  We  do  not  want 
philosophers,  nor  metaphysicians,  nor  even  theologians,  but  preachers  ot 
Christ  and  him  crucified.  Nor  let  us  fear  that  God  will  not  open  a  great 
and  effectual  door  for  us,  if  we  are  willing  to  be  co-workers  with  him. 
What  am  I  saying  ?  My  brethren,  how  wide  a  door  is  already  open  ;  and 
it",  instead  of  indolently  crying  "  There  are  yet  four  months  and  then 
Cometh  harvest,"  Ave  Avould  only  "  lift  up  our  eyes  and  look  on  the 
fields,"  iipon  eveiy  side  Ave  Avould  see  them  "  Avhite  and  ready  to 
harvest." 

Lastly,  is  Christ  the  Desire  of  all  nations  f  Tlicn  hoAV  sure  is  our 
success.  True,  Ave  must  expect  difficulties,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that, 
before  the  gospel  conquers  the  earth,  there  Avill  be  many  conflicts  and 
convulsions.  But  Avhen  Ave  consider  what  God  hath  promised  and  done, 
how  intent  and  busy  is  the  whole  Trinity  in  the  grand  scheme  of  salva- 
tion, Avhat  difficulty  can  move  us?  Who  can  doubt  that  all  events  shall 
conspire  to  secure  Immanuel's  triumph,  and  even  the  passions  of  the 
Avorhl  become  ministers  in  its  conversion  to  God?  Many  of  us  depre- 
cated and  de})lored  the  disruption  Avhich  lately  divided  oui-  churches,  but 
the  man  has  blind  eyes  who  sees  not  already  the  hand  of  God  in  this ; 
and  he,  among  us,  has  a  cold  heart  avIio  has  not  felt  a  glow  at  the  noble 
conduct  of  our  brethren  at  the  North,  and  is  not  fired  with  holy  emula- 
tion.    And  thus  shall  it  ever  be,  the  truth  shall  yet  bind  kings  in  chains, 


3G2  RICHARD     FULLER. 

and  nobles  in  fetters  of  iron ;  the  wheels  of  the  Redeemer's  chariot 
move  not  back,  but  shall  roll  on  until  "the  Desire"  shall  become  the 
Delight  of  all  nations,  and  shall  reign  over  them  in  righteousness.  All 
the  resources  of  the  universe  are  in  the  hands  of  the  ascended  Jesus.  To 
him  the  Father  hath  said,  "  Thy  throne,  O  God,  is  forever  and  ever  ;" 
and  the  hour  hastens  on,  when  the  whole  earth  shall  become  a  temple, 
and  that  temple  be  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  and  echo  with  the 
liallelujahs  of 

"  An  assembly  such  as  earth 
Saw  never,  such  as  heaven  stoops  down  to  see." 

Welcome  the  glorious  consummation !  O  months,  and  seasons,  and 
years,  speed  your  tardy  fliglit,  and  usher  in  the  blissful  period  ;  that  day 
when,  from  every  hill  and  valley,  shall  ascend  clouds  of  incense,  to  return 
in  sparkling  showers  of  mercy ;  when,  from  every  human  heart,  shall  swell 
the  angelic  hymn.  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  on  earth  peace  and  good 
will  to  men ;  when  the  pealing  chorus  of  a  renovated  world  shall  answer 
back  the  thundering  acclamations  of  the  skies,  and  every  creature  which 
is  in  heaven  and  on  the  earth,  and  such  as  are  in  the  sea,  and  all  that  are 
in  them  shall  say,  Alleluiah !  the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth  ;  Worthy 
is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  ;  Blessing,  and  honor,  and  glory,  and  power 
be  unto  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb  forever  and 
ever.    Amen ! 


DISCOURSE    XXVII, 

THOMAS    H.    SKINNER,    D.D. 

Dr.  Skinner  was  born  March  7th,  1791,  in  Perquimous  county,  North  Carolina, 
north  shore  of  Albemarle  Sound,  near  Harvey's  Point.  His  father  was  a  planter,  a 
man  of  high  position,  and  greatly  beloved  in  the  Baptist  church,  of  vphich  he  vras  a 
member  till  iiis  death,  in  1829.  At  the  age  of  twenty  years  he  was  converted  and 
united  with  the  Presbyterian  church  in  Princeton,  New  Jersey.  The  special  means 
blessed  to  this  end  were  sermons  preached  by  the  Eev.  B.  H.  Rice,  D.D.,  and  a 
severe  domestic  affliction.  His  studies  were  pursued  at  Nassau  Hall,  where  he 
graduated  in  1809. 

Dr.  Skinner  was  ordained  in  1813  and  took  the  charge  of  the  Second  Presbyterian 
church,  Philadelpliiii,  as  colleague  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Janeway,  successor  to  Rev.  Dr. 
Green.  His  other  pastoral  charges  have  been  the  Fifth  Presbyterian  church,  Phila- 
delphia, assumed  in  December,  1816,  and  resigned  in  1832 ;  and  the  Mercer-street 
Presbyterian  church,  assumed  in  1835  and  resigned  in  1848,  at  which  time  he  was 
elected  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric,  Pastoral  Theology,  and  Church  Govern- 
ment, in  the  Union  Theological  Seminary,  New  York ;  a  position  which  he  still 
holds.  He  was  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric  in  Andover  Theological  Seminary 
from  1832  to  1835.  He  has  a  son  in  the  ministry,  Rev.  Thomas  H.  Skinner,  jr., 
now  of  Honesdale,  Pennsylvania.  Many  years  ago  he  published  two  volumes, 
called  "Religion  of  the  Bible,"  and  "Preaching  and  Hearing,"  and,  more  recently, 
translations  of  Vinet's  Pastoral  Theology,  and  Vinet's  Homiletics. 

In  personal  appearance,  Dr.  Skinner  is  about  medium  height,  rather  t;ill,  rlim  and 
spare;  hair  light  and  thin,  mingled  with  gray;  forehead  broad  and  deep,  and  a  "-en- 
eral  expression  of  intellectual  capacity  and  studious  habits.  As  professor  in  the 
seminary  in  New  York,  he  is  much  respected,  and  highly  acceptable  and  useful. 

As  a  preacher,  Dr.  Skinner's  marked  characteristics  are,  ardent  love  for  tiie  truth, 
clearness  and  richness  of  thought,  deep  evangelical  sentiment,  and  precision,  direct- 
ness!, and  strength  of  expression.  Some  of  his  views  on  preaching,  of  which  ht;  is 
himself  a  fine  illustration,  are  presented  in  the  prefoce  of  his  "  Religion  of  the 
Bible,"  where  he  says :  "  It  is  not  when  its  theme  is  controversy,  but  certain  and 
fundamental  truth,  that  religious  discourse  should  be  most  distinguished  by  dis- 
crimination, exactness  of  statement,  clearness,  order,  and  strength  of  reasoning,  as 
well  as  by  pungency  and  earnestness.  Nor  do  I  wish  to  be  thought  of  the  opinion, 
that  all  discussion  in  points  of  dispute  among  Christians,  is  unlawful,  or  unnecessary. 
The  ordinary  teaching  of  the, ministry,  sliould,  I  am  persuaded,  have  little  to  do  with 
disputes.  If  any  man  speak,  let  him  speak  as  the  oracles  of  God.  It  is  a  '  point 
of  great  inconvenience  and  peril  to  entitle  the  people  to  hear  controversies,  and  all 


P,G4:  THOMAS    II.    SKIXXER, 

kiuds  of  doctrine.  They  say  no  part  of  the  counsel  of  God  is  to  be  suppressed :  so 
is  ihe  diQxjrence  which  the  apostle  maketh  between  milk  and  strong  meat  is  con- 
tounded :  and  his  precept,  that  the  weak  be  not  admitted  unto  questions  and  con- 
troversies, taketh  no  place.'  *  If.  nevertheless,  Christians  will  discuss  their 
Llifterences  with  Taecoming  moderation,  and  earnest  endeavors  be  still  used  to 
keep  the  unity  of  the  spirit  in  the  bonds  of  peace,  there  doubtless  are  times  and 
places  in  which  they  may  do  so,  without  sin,  and,  perhaps,  to  edification.  Where, 
however,  the  business  directly  in  hand  is  that  of  saving  men,  earnestness  and  skill 
in  conducting  that  great  work,  will,  as  far  as  possible,  preclude  the  intrusion  of  con- 
troverted points." 

The  subjoined  discourse,  printed  by  Dr.  Skinner's  permission,  has  had  a  somewhat 
wide,  and  most  merited,  reputation.  It  was  printed  many  years  ago,  and  if  we  mis- 
take not,  the  substance  of  it  was  incorporated  into  a  Review  article.  We  lately  heard 
one  of  the  first  preachers  in  the  country  remark,  that  this  sermon  was  read  by  him 
a  great  number  of  years  since,  and  had  deeply  influenced  his  ministerial  and  Chris- 
tian career.     The  recollection  of  it,  he  said,  was  yet  firagrant  in  his  memory. 


SPIRITUAL  JOY  AS  AN  ELEMENT  OF  STRENGTH. 

"  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  your  strength." — Xeuemiaii,  viii.  10. 

ExpouNDiSTG  the  rule  of  duty  to  those  who  have  violated  it,  tends  in 
the  first  instance,  if  they  have  ingenuous  minds,  to  exercise  them  Avith 
sorrow,  but  that  sorrow  ends  in  joy.  The  children  of  the  captivity,  who 
by  warrant  from  the  King  of  Persia,  returned  to  the  land  of  their  fathers, 
had  for  a  long  time  been  destitute  of  spiritual  instruction,  and  almost  as 
a  matter  of  course,  had  fallen  into  spiritual  insensibility  and  unconcern. 
But  they  were  somehow  led  to  gather  themselves  together  as  one  man, 
to  hear  the  word  of  God ;  and  Ezra  the  Scribe,  with  certain  Levites,  his 
assistants,  read  in  the  book  of  the  law  of  God  distinctly,  and  gave  the 
sense,  and  caused  tlje  people  to  understand  the  reading.  The  eftect  was 
— an  illustrious  instance  of  the  heart-melting  power  of  divine  truth — a 
deep  sense  of  sin  m  the  entire  assembly.  All  the  2^eo2yle  wept.,  when  they 
Heard  the  words  of  the  Imo.  An  unusual  spectacle  in  this  hard-hearted 
world !  An  immense  concourse  of  men  all  in  tears  before  God  on  ac- 
count of  their  sins !  Well'might  the  ministers  of  religion  hasten  to  ful- 
fill the  commission.  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye,  my x>Gople,  saith  your  God. 
It  is  needful  that  sinful  men  should  sorrow,  but  there  is  nothing  desira- 
ble in  sorrow  on  its  own  account,  and  God  works  it  in  his  chosen,  only 
that  by  means  of  it,  he  may  open  a  fit  channel  into  their  breasts  for  the 
consolations  of  his  Spirit  to  flow  in.  Hence  Nehemiah,  the  Tirshatlia, 
and  Ezra  the  Priest,  the  Scribe,  and  the  teaching  Levites,  dismissed  that 
great  assembly  of  mourners  with  these  gracious  words:  This  day  is 
*  Lord  Bacon. 


SPIRITUAL    JOY    AS    AN    ELEMEXT    OF    STRENGTH.      3^5 

holy  to  the  Ziord  your  God:  mourn  not,  nor  loeep ;  go  your  xcay,  eat 
the  fat,  and  drink  the  sxoeet,  and  send  portions  to  them  for  whom  noth- 
ing is  prepared ;  for  this  day  is  holy  unto  our  Lord ;  neither  he  ye 

SOIVy,  FOR  THE  JOY  OF  THE  LORD  IS  YOUR  STRENGTH. 

As  is  the  sorrow  of  a  joenitent  heart,  such  is  the  nature  of  the  joy  to 
wiiich  it  leads.     Both  are  the  fruit  of  the  Holy  Spirit.     There  are  joys 
of  a  different  kind.     There  is  a  natural  joy  Avhich  one  feels  after  escap- 
ing out  of  great  danger,  or  being  unexpectedly  blessed  with  woi'ldly   ' 
good.     There  is  also  a  religious  joy  which  springs  from  mistaken  impres-  " 
sions.     These  are  not  the  joy  of  the  Lord  ;  they  are  but  for  a  moment ;  j 
they  pass  away,  and  leave  the  heart  void,  desolate,  and  despairing.     The  I 
joy  of  the  Lord,  the  same  which  fills  the  eternal  mind,  is  the  only  joy  | 
that  meets  the  desires  and  exigences  of  any  rational  being.     To  all   | 
rational  minds,  of  God,  angels  and  men,  there  is  but  one  true  happiness. 
Angels  are  not  happy,  and  men  are  not  happy,  unless  they  share  the  hap- 
piness of  him  who  is  over  all,  blessed  forever.     With  him  is  the  foun- 
tain of  life — not  a  rill,  not  a  drop  of  bliss  in  the  universe,  which  that 
fountain  does  not  yield.     They  who  go  elsewhere  for  happiness,  wander 
into  boundless  deserts,  where  all  is  drought,  and  burning  winds  and  vas? 
desolation.     What  is  the  exhilaration  of  the  animal  spirits,  what  were 
hitollectual  delights,  what  the  pleasures  of  sin,  the  utmost  indulgences 
of  the  lusts  of  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  to  that 
immortal  spirit  in  man  which  bears  the  image,  and  pants  for  the  blessed- 
ness of  God  ?     How  can  a  man  be  called  happy,  Avhen  almost  every 
thing  belonging  to  him  that  raises  him  above  the  bi'ute,  is  either  wholly 
})oi-tionless,  or  is  tantalized  with  what  is  no  more  suited  to  its  nature, 
than  shadows  or  dreams  to  sustain  the  bodily  life  ? 

And  now  what  is  the  joy  of  the  Lord  ?     It  is  joy  arising  from  the  same  v 
causes,  terminating  on  the  same  objects,  and  yielding  the  same  results  as    \ 
that  which  the  infinite  Being  himself  possesses,  without  measure.     Its 
spring  is  holiness;  its  objects  are  the  divine  perfections  and  works;  its 
results  are  the  various  forms  of  true  beneficence  and  kindness.     It  is  the 
joy  of  holy  love;  of  complacency  in  God  and  goodness,  and  of  benev- 
olence to  his  creatures.     It  is  delight,  sensible  and  satisfying,  delight, 
such  as  forms  the  boundless  and  fatliomless  ocean  of  heavenly  beatitude. 
As  existing  in  sinners  of  mankind,  its  precursor  ordinarily,  as  has  bce:i 
intimated,  is  holy  sorrow;  and  its  medium  is  a  living  union  with  Christ, 
by  faith.     It  is,  as  shared  by  them,  the  purchase  of  the  Saviour's  pre-  i 
cious  blood,  and  the  fruit  of  the  renewing  influence  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  -^ 

Our  object,  however,  at  present,  is  not  so  much  to  desciibe  this  feel- 
ing, as  to  show  the  power  of  it,  as  a  practical  principle.  The  joy  of  the 
Lord  is  OUR  STRENGTH.  It  is  the  spring  of  our  greatest  efticiency  tor 
good  ;  the  great  mover  and  inciter  of  the  soul  to  holy  action  and  achieve-  .^ 
ment ;  the  sustainer  also  of  our  energies  in  accomplishing  our  benevolent 
vuidertakings ;  what,  above  all  things,  keeps  the  mind  going  cheerfully 


/ 


r 


3(36  THOMAS    H.    SKINNER. 

forward  in  its  si^iritnal  efforts  and  adventures,  and  bears  on  without  fjiint- 
ing  or  weariness  to  a  successful  issue  of  its  struggles  and  conflicts.  We 
propose  to  offer  a  few  remarks  in  illustration  of  this  sentiment. 

Joy  is  the  achiever  of  almost  every  good  or  noble  thing  which  is  done 
under  the  sun.  There  is  nothing  Hke  it  to  make  the  spirit  of  man  erect, 
resolute,  persevering,  patient,  and  indefotigable.  Almost  universally, 
where  there  is  great  labor,  at  least  available  labor,  there  is  also  great 
mental  delight.  The  exceptions  do  but  confirm  the  general  principle. 
Men  may  be  impelled  to  labor  by  ambition,  by  necessity,  by  fear,  by 
avarice ;  but  unless  their  labor  becomes  itself  delight,  what  great  thing, 
or  noble  thing,  or  what  thing  worthy  of  their  pains,  do  they  ordinarily 
accomplish  ?  Consult  the  sons  of  the  muses,  the  toilers  at  deep  investi- 
gation and  exact  analysis,  the  makers  of  those  books — the  best  products 
of  human  labor — that  come  forth  into  the  community  like  living  lumina- 
ries to  pour  the  light  and  Iieat  of  mind  through  ages  to  come ;  consult 
all  successful  artists,  jurists,  statesmen,  merchants,  and  agriculturists; 
and  you  will  find,  that  these  several  classes  of  laborei-s  are  held  to  their 
respective  sorts  of  work  mainly  by  the  cord  of  sensible  delight  or 
j)leasurable  interest  in  the  object  of  attention.  Who  would  anticipate 
brilliant  success  fi'om  any  course  of  exertion  in  which  the  man  went  for- 
ward under  some  other  impulse  than  that  of  lively  interest  in  his  work? 
Where  there  is  no  delight,  the  heart  will  not  be  found;  and  what  can  a 
man  do  in  one  sphere,  when  his  heart  is  in  another?  But  "we  need  not 
enlarge  on  this  point.  All  men  see  it,  feel  it,  perfectly  understand  it. 
It  is  responded  to  at  once  from  the  breast  of  every  one. 

Now,  our  remark  is  this,  that  the  principle  is  as  true  in  its  application 
to  man's  moral  agency,  as  to  his  physical  and  intellectual.  It  is  joy,  for 
the  most  part,  that  makes  men  industrious  and  indefatigable  in  the  ful- 
fillment of  moral  claims  and  undertakings.  This  is  the  great  principle 
of  Christian  attainment ;  of  holy  zeal  and  enterprise  in  the  people  of 
God.  Why  should  it  not  be  so  ?  Would  it  not  be  surprising  and  un- 
accountable to  find  it  otherwise?  Should  we  not  ask  with  wonder,  how 
is  it  that  a  principle  which  holds  good  in  every  other  department  of 
.rational  agency,  should  fail  in  this  department?  Are  the  laws  of  nature 
*  violated  in  the  spiritual  kingdom  ?  No  ;  reason  requires  us  to  believe 
that  this  is  the  very  sphere  in  which,  above  all  others,  the  efiiciency  of 
this  influence  is  discovered.  The  influence  itself  exists  here  in  a  far 
nobler  kind,  tlian  anywhere  else.  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  as  far  above 
iiU  other  kinds  of  joy,  as  holiness  is  better  than  ot?ier  kinds  of  excellence. 
The  just  conclusion  is,  that  the  effects  of  this  joy  are  proj)ortionately 
superior ;  the  conclusion  of  common  sense,  confirmed  by  the  universal 
testimony  of  Scripture  and  experience.  It  may,  however,  be  useful,  to 
enter  somewhat  particularly  into  an  examination  of  the  tendencies  of 
tliis  feeling;  to  inquire,  in  several  instances,  int:  the  waj'S  in  which  its 
efllcacy  is  exerted  and  discovered. 


SPIRITUAL    JOT    AS    AN    ELEMENT    OF    STREXGTn.    CG7 

1.  We  observe,  then,  in  the  first  place,  that  joy  gives  life  and  spirit  to 
all  the  mental  powers  and  operations.  A  delighted  mind  is  full  of  bright- 
ness and  alertness,  finds  action  easy,  has  all  its  faculties  at  command,  and 
exerts  them  with  intensity  of  application.  Under  the  vivifying  effusions 
of  joy,  imagination  awakes,  perception  becomes  acute,  the  range  of  ob- 
servation is  enlarged,  judgment  is  invigorated,  memory  is  sharpened, 
taste  refined,  the  whole  soul,  in  short,  is  instinct  with  the  spirit  of  intel- 
lectual life,  and  waits  only  for  the  orders  of  the  will,  to  put  forth  its 
utmost  energies,  and  to  accomplish  the  highest  results  of  which  it  is 
capable.  And  the  will  itself  is  in  a  great  degree  influenced,  if  not  de- 
termined by  joy.  It  is  when  men  have  delight  in  the  things  about  which 
their  volitions  and  purposes  are  conversant,  that  they  form  bold  and  firm 
i-esolutions ;  then  it  is  that  they  decide  freely  and  promptly  to  enter 
upon  courses  of  mental  exertion,  of  which  perhaps  the  thought  would 
not  have  occurred  to  them  in  the  absence  of  joy. 

We  offer  no  proof  of  what  we  now  afiirm,  but  make  our  appeal  directly 
to  human  consciousness.  No  one  who  reflects  on  the  history  of  his  own 
mental  states  and  operations,  can  call  it  in  question.  To  every  one  the 
matter  is  as  certain  as  consciousness  itself;  nor  is  it  inexplicable.  Ilap- 
jnncss  is  the  ultimate  end  of  rational  being.  All  sentient  being,  indeed, 
of  whatever  nature,  languislies  and  pines,  when  kept  back  from  the  final 
end  of  its  existence  ;  it  is,  on  the  other  hand,  in  its  state  of  greatest 
perfection  when  it  perfec^tly  enjoys  that  end.  It  is  so  with  the  mind  of 
man :  joy  is  its  ultimate  end ;  in  possession  of  that  end,  all  its  faculties 
are  in  their  best  conditioji.  We  only  add,  if  other  kinds  of  joy  have  an 
invigorating  influence  on  the  mind,  much  more  must  tliat  incomparably 
higher  joy,  of  whicli  we  speak. 

2.  Again,  as  this  feeling  imparts  such  life  to  the  mind  itself,  so  does  it 
brighten  by  this  means  the  objects  of  intellection.  Its  influence  in  this 
respect  is  sometimes  as  if  a  new  sun  had  been  created,  to  irradiate  the 
world  in  which  mind  moves.  You  yesterday  read  Milton  with  a  wearied 
heart,  and  fell  asleep  over  the  sublime  glories  of  his  page ;  this  morning 
you  perused  the  same  page  with  a  spirit  refreshed  by  sweet  and  sufiicient 
sleep,  and  you  were  amazed  and  ovei-powered  by  its  wondrous  creations 
of  fancy  and  taste.  Tiie  world  of  fiiith — the  world  revealed  in  the  gos- 
pel— a  short  time  since,  when  you  endeavored  to  think  upon  it,  with  a 
soul  almost  dead  to  spiritual  excellence,  was  nearly  as  the  region  of  emp- 
tiness and  darkness ;  now,  when  the  spirit  of  a  revival  sheds  its  life 
thi-ough  your  bosom,  that  world  of  invisible  glory  echpses  the  world  of 
sense,  and  absorbs  the  powers  and  scnsibiUties  of  your  being.  What  was 
the  lioly  One  to  you,  some  weeks  ago,  when  you  pretended  to  worship 
him  with  a  dull  and  worldly  heart  ?  What  is  he  now,  when  a  jo}-ful 
sense  of  his  excellency  draws  from  your  breast  the  ardent  exhortation  to 
those  who  know  nothing  of  your  blessedness,  to  taste  and  see  that  the 
Lord  is  good?     What  a  difference  in  the  character  of  the  Savio  ir  at 


gg3  THOMAS    H.    SKINNER. 

present,  from  what  he  seemed  to  you  then?  The  whole  Bible — the 
whole  subject  of  religion — how  immensely  different.  Yet  the  whole  of 
this  difference  is  the  result  of  spiritual  delight  in  your  own  mind.  The 
joy  of  the  Lord,  then,  is  it  not  your  strength?  If  you  had  an  angel's 
powers,  what  could  you  do,  with  no  distinct  views  of  the  objects  with 
which  those  powers  are  conversant  ? 

3.  Attend,  next,  for  a  moment  to  the  influence  of  spiritual  pleasure  on 
the  performance  of  devotional  exercises.  Who  is  it  that  has  grown 
weary  of  his  closet,  his  Bible,  his  domestic  altar,  the  meeting  for  prayer, 
and  the  solemn  services  of  the  Sabbath?  Could  you  inspect  the  heart 
of  such  a  person,  is  it  probable  that  you  would  find  it  the  abode  of  much 
religious  enjoyment  ?  Do  you  think  it  would  be  possible  to  discover 
any  thing  in  such  a  man's  heart,  to  justify  his  saying,  with  the  spiritually- 
minded  Psalmist,  "One  day  in  the  courts  of  the  Lord  is  better  than  a 
thousand  ?"  No  one,  I  am  sure,  could  believe  it  possible.  A  deserter 
from  the  throne  of  grace,  a  neglecter  of  devotional  duties,  is  one  who 
takes  little  or  no  delight  in  the  performance  of  those  duties.  To  him 
who  has  heavenly  joy  springing  up  in  his  mind,  the  sanctuary,  the  place 
of  social  prayer,  the  closet,  the  solitary  walk,  will  be  the  gate  of  heaven. 
Such  a  man  will  be  inclined  to  pray,  not  merely  thrice,  nor  even  seven 
times  a  day,  but  to  be  praying  always,  with  all  prayer  and  supplication 
in  the  Spirit ;  to  dwell  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High,  to  abide  in 
the  tabernacle  of  the  Almighty  continually.  The  spirit  of  devotion  never 
tires,  while  the  joy  of  the  Lord  is  its  prompter.  Day  and  night  it  can 
continue  its  aspirations  and  outpourings  of  affection.  It  has  no  content 
in  shortness,  in  interruption,  in  lifeless  exercises.  No ;  the  joy  of  the 
Lord  hfts  the  heart  up  to  heaven,  and  keeps  it  there,  communing  with 
holy  xingels,  with  the  church  of  the  first-born,  with  the  spirits  of  just 
men  made  perfect,  with  God  the  Judge  of  all,  with  Jesus  the  Mediatoi-, 
and  with  his  most  precious  blood  of  sprinkling. 

4.  We  will  now  advert,  in  few  words,  to  the  influence  of  this  grace  on 
other  gracious  states  of  mind.  We  refer  not  to  the  indirect  influence 
which  it  exerts  upon  them,  by  promoting  the  mind's  spiritual  intercourse 
with  their  objects,  by  inclining  it  to  heavenly  meditation  and  prayer,  but 
to  a  direct  and  necessary  connection  between  this  and  any  other  holy 
feelings.  All  the  gracious  affections,  being  of  the  same  femily,  and 
intimately  allied  to  each  other,  exert  a  reciprocal  influence  u})on  one 
another,  promotive  of  each  other's  strength  and  growth  ;  but  there 
appears  to  be  a  pre-eminence  in  the  friendly  power  of  joy  upon  its  sister 
graces.  The  reason  seems  to  be,  that  joy,  being  the  end  of  all  the 
lieaveTily  affections,  when  this  feeling  connects  itself  with  them,  they 
nmst,  of  course,  be  more  vigorous  than  in  any  other  circumstances. 

Let  us  illustrate  in  a  few  instances.  Love  often  exists  apart  from  joy, 
but  it  ?.e\([o^n  flourishes  apart  from  it.  It  is  Avhen  the  heart  finds  delight 
ill  loving,  that  it  loves  with  great  intensity  and  enlargement.     Then  it 


SPIRITUAL    JOT    AS    AN    ELEMENT    OF    STRENGTH.     369 

is  that  it  gives  itself  away  to  tlie  beloved  object,  and,  as  it  "vvere,  loses 
itself  in  it.  Hope,  too,  is  fed  by  joy  ;  joy,  in  this  world,  being  the  ear- 
nest and  foretaste  of  the  object  of  hope.  The  full  assurance  of  hope  is 
always  the  effect  of  joy  reigning  in  the  soul:  it  can  come  from  notliing 
else  ;  it  can  not  be  gained  from  inference,  or  any  witness  without ;  no, 
it  is  the  beginning  of  heaven — the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing. This  it  is  that  displaces  every  doubt  in  the  soul,  and  fills  the 
mind  with  certainty  respecting  its  eternal  blessedness :  joy  does  it,  and 
nothing  else  can.  Faith,  likewise,  rises  and  approximates  to  vision,  when 
joy  gives  it  wings ;  for  when  the  things  believed  are  at  the  same  time 
rejoiced  in,  how  can  it  be  otherwise  than  that  faith  in  the  reality  of  those 
things  should  amount  to  the  utmost  confidence  and  boldness?  How, 
also,  does  the  relenting  of  the  heart,  in  view  of  sin,  and  the  mercy  of 
God  abound,  when  the  soul  turns  her  eye  to  these  objects,  after  being 
melted  into  tenderness  and  sweetness,  by  a  rejoicing  sense  of  the  beauty 
of  holiness?  We  could  add  to  these  instances  if  it  Avere  necessary  ;  but 
they  are  sufficient.  It  is  exceedingly  manifest  that  it  must  give  zest  and 
strength  to  every  good  feeling  of  which  the  mind  is  capable,  to  have  that 
feeling  attended  with  conscious  delight,  and  such  delight,  too,  as  the  joy 
of  the  Lord,  the  very  joy  of  the  supreme  and  blessed  God. 

5.  Let  us  next  notice  how  nobly  this  feeling  of  spiritual  delight  can  bear 
up  the  mind  amid  assaults  of  outward  affliction.  Through  these  assaults 
must  all  make  their  triumphant  way,  ysho  at  last  gain  entrance  into  this 
world  of  rest.  As  many  as  J  love  T  rebuke  and  chasten.  J  have  chosen 
thee  in  the  furnace  of  afU'ictlon.  Here  it  is  that  strength  is  demanded; 
and  what,  in  these  circumstances,  imparts  strength  like  this  holy  joy  ? 
Hope  and  faith  are  indeed  needful ';  but  it  is  joy,  commonly,  which  gives 
faith  and  hope  their  strength.  Unattended  by  joy,  they  may  stay  up  the 
mind  hi  some  sort,  amid  these  seasons  of  storm  and  darkness.  They  may 
keep  it  from  sinking  into  the  deep  waters  of  despair  ;  but  they  may  not 
do  even  this  Avithout  a  great  inward  strife.  Many  a  saint,  going  through 
the  floods  of  trouble  in  the  mere  exercise  of  hoj^e  and  faith,  has  mean- 
while trembled  in  himself,  le«t  by  flxiUng  to  retain  these  supporters,  he 
should  i)erish  in  the  passage.  But  how  is  the  scene  changed  at  once, 
when  tlie  light  of  heavenly  joy  springs  up  in  darkness?  What  can  any 
floods  or  fires  of  tribulation  then  do,  to  hinder  the  mind's  steadflistnest^ 
and  swift  progress  in  its  upward  course  to  God  ?  These  trials  seem  to 
assist  rather  than  hinder  it  on  its  way. 

How  matchless  the  eflicacy  of  this  divine  joy!  It  enlivens  faith  and 
hope,  and  all  the  other  heavenly  affections.  It  is  as  if  omnipotence  itself 
had  entered  into  all  the  feelings  of  the  mind.  The  mind  becomes  more 
than  a  conqueror.  The  very  violence  of  fire  is  quenched  ;  and  some- 
times, as  in  the  case  of  the  martyr,  the  fiercest  flames,  under  the  influ- 
ence of  spiritual  joy,  not  only  lose  their  peculiar  power,  but  become  an 
instrument  of  ease,  as  the  dying  martyr  found  the  flames  were  to  him  a 

24 


870  THOMAS    H.    SKINNER. 

bed  of  roses.  This  may  savor  of  mere  ardor  to  the  externally-strict 
religionist ;  but  he  is  not  set  to  judge  in  the  case.  We  aj^peal,  in  verifi- 
cation of  what  we  have  said,  to  the  Scriptures  of  truth  and  the  history 
of  the  church.  It  has  been  fulfilled  in  thousands  of  real  examples,  of 
whom  the  world  was  not  worthy. 

6.  The  power  of  this  feeling,  as  evinced  in  its  resistance  to  the  influ- 
ence of  worldly  good,  is  a  further  commendation  of  it.  It  is  this  influ- 
ence, far  more  than  that  of  outward  afiliction,  which  tries  and  insnares 
the  spirit  of  man.  Indeed,  what  is  it  that  constitutes  the  bitterness  of 
afiliction  but  its  abridging  or  destroying  our  enjoyment  of  the  world  ? 
"Were  we  wholly  dead  to  worldly  good,  small  would  be  the  power  of 
affliction  to  disturb  us.  It  is  this,  then,  the  world's  influence,  that  forms 
our  grand  encumbrance.  Here  is  the  great  adversary  of  our  souls. 
Here  is  what  gives  all  other  temptations  their  strength.  It  is  this  which 
gives  the  great  destroyer  himself  all  the  advantage  he  has  against  us ; 
which  enables  him  to  reach  our  spirits  with  his  wiles  and  darts  of  perdi- 
tion ;  and  which  makes  us  his  willing  captives  and  vassals.  What,  then, 
can  most  efifectually  secure  us  against  the  enchantment  and  tyranny  of 
this  present  evil  world  ?  Whatever  that  is,  it  is  more  to  be  desired  than 
all  things  in  the  universe  besides ;  he  who  has  it,  would  be  a  madman  to 
part  with  it  for  the  treasures  of  creation. 

What,  then,  is  this  priceless  treasure  ?  It  is,  unquestionably,  a  happi- 
ness higher  than  that  which  the  world  has  to  offer.  The  human  mind, 
by  the  nature  God  has  given  it,  evermore  seeks  enjoyment.  Since  its 
sad  perversion  by  the  original  apostacy,  it  looks  for  enjoyment  to  the 
visible  and  outward  world.  That  world  besets  it  with  its  insnaring 
temptations  at  the  commencement  of  its  existence,  and  works  in  it  the 
fatal  delusion  that  in  worldly  good  lies  the  supreme  blessedness.  This 
gross  delusion — the  grand  difiiculty  to  be  overcome  in  recovering  the 
mind  to  the  dominion  of  virtue  and  truth — can  no  otherwise  be  disarmed 
of  its  controlling  influence  than  by  the  presence  and  experience  in  the 
mind  of  a  better  happiness  than  the  world  can  give. 

We  appeal,  for  confirmation  of  this  remark,  to  human  consciousness  in 
all  the  generations  of  mankind.  Many  means  have  been  employed  to 
break  the  world's  power  in  the  heart ;  the  world's  deceitfulness  has  been 
set  in  the  strongest  light ;  the  terrors  of  eternity  have  been  set  in  array 
against  the  idolatry  of  the  woi-ld  ;  the  utmost  power  of  motive  and  per- 
suasion has  been  exhausted;  and  to  what  result?  The  understanding 
has  been  convinced,  resohitions  have  been  formed,  vows  have  been  made, 
seclusion  from  the  society  of  men  has  been  tried  ;  but  the  world's  pleas- 
iu"es  have  been  secretly  loved  ;  and  if  they  have  not  been  returned  to, 
Avith  increased  eagerness,  the  effects  of  forced  mortification  and  absti 
nence  have  been  worse,  if  possible,  than  those  of  indulgence  itself  For 
levity  and  smiling  deceit,  and  contemptuous  indifiTerence  to  divine  things, 
there  has  been  an  exchange  of  disdainful  self-righteousness,  and  grave 


SPIRITUAL    JOY    AS    AN    ELEMENT    OP    STRENGTH.    371 

formality,  and  bitter  misanthropy.  No ;  never  has  the  influence  of  the 
world  been  truly  excluded,  or  even  interrupted,  except  wheie  the  mind 
has  been  conscious  of  having  within  itself  a  joy  superior  to  any  which 
can  be  obtained  from  created  and  temporal  things.  And  what  is  such  a 
joy  but  that  whereof  we  speak  ?  Besides  this,  and  creature  joy,  there 
is  no  other.  Here,  then,  is  the  one  thing  needful  for  the  effectual  resist- 
ance and  banishment  of  the  spirit  of  the  world,  the  strength  of  all 
temptation,  and  of  the  tempter  himself 

This  is  the  world's  vanquisher ;  and  how  easy,  how  perfect  is  its  tri- 
umph. The  heart  takes  a  farewell  of  the  world — a  glad  and  rejoicing 
fxrewell — a  farewell,  final  and  everlasting.  Why  should  it  not  ?  Does 
he  who  eats  at  the  table  of  a  king  care  for  the  beggar's  crumbs  ?  The 
man  who  walks  at  large,  enjoying  the  sweet  influence  of  God's  works, 
and  exulting  in  the  consciousness  of  being  an  illustrious  family's  boast, 
or  a  nation's  benefactor,  does  he  envy  the  fancied  greatness  of  the  naked 
maniac  chained  to  the  floor  of  his  cell  ?  No  more  can  he  who  tastes  the 
joys  of  the  Lord,  long,  while  he  does  so,  for  the  low  pleasures  of  the 
world.  How  can  he  be  tempted  by  appeals  to  ambition,  whose  ambition 
is  already  fixed  uj^on  higher  honor  than  that  of  any  throne  in  creation? 
or  by  appeals  to  the  love  of  possession,  who  is,  by  enjoyment,  at  this  mo- 
ment the  heir  and  possessor  of  all  things  ?  or  by  appeals  to  the  love  of 
pleasure,  whose  spirit  is  diinking  of  the  pure  river  of  the  water  of  life  ? 
The  joy  of  a  renewed  soul,  when  it  first  sees  and  adores  the  beauty  of  the 
di\ine  character,  what  a  poor  recompense  would  the  wealth  and  the  glory 
of  a  thousand  creations  be  to  that  soul  for  the  loss  of  what  it  then  feels. 

0  there  is  nothing  so  much  needed,  in  order  to  invest  Christians  with 
the  mild  glory  of  a  heavenly  conversation,  as  this  frame  of  soul !  Were 
this  sacred  feeling  habitually  dominant  in  their  breasts,  how  Avould  it 
adorn  them  in  the  eye  of  God  and  man,  in  all  the  beauties  of  practical 
spirituality  ?  Holiness  to  the  Lord  would  be  inscribed  on  all  their  secu- 
lar actions  and  ]3ursuits ;  they  would  be,  in  respect  to  fare  for  the  body, 
as  the  fowls  of  heaven  for  their  food,  and  the  lilies  of  the  field  for  their 
clothing;  in  room  of  a  fretted  and  peevish  spirit,  under  the  bitter  dis- 
turbances of  life,  they  would  have  enduring  meekness  and  quietness ; 
instead  of  aiming,  by  covert  measures,  at  self-promotion  in  the  church, 
there  would  be  brotherly  love,  in  honor  preferring  one  another  ;  and, 
instead  of  that  spirit  of  mutual  contention  and  concision,  which  has  ever 
been  the  reproach  of  the  Christian  name,  thei'e  would  be  the  keei)ing  of 
the  unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the  bonds  of  peace.  O  this  is  the  greatest 
desideratum  for  the  times  in  Avhich  we  live  !  Have  what  we  may — be 
the  signs  of  the  times  more  animating  than  they  ever  have  been — let 
revivals  be  more  and  more  multii)lied — there  will  not,  there  can  not,  be 
the  needful  improvement  in  Christian  character  and  temper,  until  God, 
in  his  mercy,  shall  send  abroad  the  S})irit  of  holy  joy  in  the  hearts  of  hia 
unfaithful,  im worthy  people. 


872  THOMAS    11.    SKINNER. 

1.  Again.  NotAvithstanding  the  advancement  of  this  age  on  former 
times,  in  respect  to  liberality  and  labors  of  love,  there  Avill  never  be 
what  we  judge  needful,  in  these  grand  respects,  to  the  conversion  of  the 
world,  iTntil  the  time  comes  for  the  more  general  effusion  of  this  S})irit 
upon  ,the  church.  The  joy  of  the  Lord  is  our  strength,  for  making 
what  we  deem  to  be  the  reqnisite  sacrifices  and  exertions  for  the  uni- 
versal spread  of  the  gospel. 

We  have  more  than  enough  of  treasure  in  our  hands,  but  we  have  no 
heart  to  use  it  for  the  purpose  in  question.  We  admit  that  we  ought  so 
to  use  it;  we  confess  this  to  one  another;  we  confess  it  in  prayer  to 
God ;  we  lament  over  our  parsimony  ;  but  we  still  lavish  our  possessions 
on  our  lusts,  or  hoard  them  for  the  ruin  of  our  children ;  and  reluctantly 
give,  it  may  be,  the  fraction  of  a  tithe  to  aid  in  pouring  the  glorious 
light  of  a  Christian  hope  over  the  wide  world  of  heathenism.  Appeals 
on  aj)peals,  the  year  round,  are  rung  in  our  ears  from  every  quarter  of 
the  earth.  We  are  plied  almost  daily  with  a  system  of  strenuous  solicita- 
tions ;  the  universe  of  motive  is  searched  for  materials  of  persuasion ; 
but,  still,  the  mass  of  Christians,  having  ears  to  hear,  hear  not,  and  hav- 
ing hearts  to  perceive,  yet,  in  this  matter  of  giving  for  the  spread  of  the 
gospel,  they  do  not  understand.  That  it  is  a  privilege  and  a  mercy  to 
be  allowed  to  contribute  any  thing  for  the  furtherance  of  this  object,  is 
to  them  a  mystery  indeed ;  they  can  not  even  comprehend  the  extent  of 
duty  here ;  they  are  Avearied  beyond  their  patience  by  incessant  calls  for 
aid ;  and  after  all  is  done,  the  burden  of  the  expense  of  carrying  on  the 
great  enterprise,  to  which  Christians  have,  by  profession  and  covenant, 
devoted  all  they  have,  is  borne  chiefly  by  a  few. 

Can  we  be  ignorant  of  the  cause  of  this  insensibility  to  sacred  obliga- 
tion in  the  Cluistian  church  ?  Do  we  not  see  what  it  is  that  makes 
members  of  the  church  so  merciless  toward  the  souls  of  their  fellow- 
men  ?  Is  it  not  palpable  that  the  joy  of  God's  salvation  is  wanting  in 
their  own  hearts  ;  that  they  take  little  or  no  lively  pleasure  in  the  things 
of  the  Spirit  ?  If  their  own  hearts  were  but  moderately  expanded  with 
this  pure  feeling,  they  would  not  be  able  to  shut  up  their  compassion 
from  the  wretched  children  of  darkness,  who,  by  myriads  a  day,  are 
dying  without  hope.  It  must  veiily  be  so  ;  the  Christians  of  this  agt 
have  generally  but  little  happiness,  little  sensible  delight  in  God.  They 
are  not,  as  to  any  feeling  of  blessedness,  happy  Christians.  They  have 
little  communion  in  spirit  and  feeling,  from  day  to  day,  with  the  Head 
and  members  of  the  heavenly  church.  The  first  touches  of  this  joy 
J  would  break  asunder  every  cord  of  avarice,  and  open  wide  the  heart  and 
the  hand  for  beneficent  action.  There  seems  to  be  a  tendency  in  all  de- 
light to  incline  us  to  .liberality.  Hence,  those  who  solicit  our  favor, 
prefer  makhig  their  approaches  to  us  when  our  mood  of  mind  is  hapj^y. 

But  this  joy  is  the  very  life  and  strength  of  benevolence  ;  it  is  the 
parent  of  all  good  ;  the  source  of  every  stream  and  drop  of  blessedness 


SPIRITUAL    JOY    AS    AN    ELEMENT    OF    STRENGTH.     373 

in  creation.  Let  it  enter  the  heart,  and  covetousness  is  gone  ont  of  it, 
by  the  same  necessity  by  which  darkness*  flees  before  the  face  of  tlie  sun. 
See  how  its  contrariety  to  covetousness  showed  itself  in  the  first  converts  to 
the  cross  of  Christ.  What  solicitation  did  they  need  to  induce  them  to  give 
for  the  extension  of  the  gospel  ?  They  gave  all  they  had,  and  Avho  can 
suj)pose  that  they  could  have  had  as  much  pleasure  in  appropriating  it  to 
themselves,  as  they  enjoyed  in  parting  with  it,  for  the  good  of  the  com- 
mon cause  ?  Instances  of  the  like  kind,  in  individuals,  at  least,  are  not 
wanting  in  modern  times.  Such  instances  our  recent  revivals  have  sup- 
plied. Tlie  joy  of  the  Lord  is  the  strength  of  revivals  ;  and  who  knows 
not  that  revivals  are  the  church's  only  hope,  both  for  the  means  and  the 
men,  by  which  the  Avorld  is  to  be  converted  ? 

Assuredly,  we  want  nothing  else  to  replenish  the  treasury  of  the  Lord, 
and  supply  all  requisite  resources,  but  that  the  hearts  of  Christians 
should  cease  to  be  so  void  of  that  sensible  enjoyment  of  God,  witli  which 
they  should  always  be  full.  Had  the  church  but  that  fountain  within 
herself  to  draw  from,  rivers  of  treasure,  if  needed,  would  be  at  her  com- 
mand ;  and  she  could  su})})ly  at  once,  the  very  ends  of  the  earth  with  the 
means  of  salvation.  She  would  have  a  missionary  in  spirit  in  each  of  her 
sons  and  daughters.  It  is  this  blessedness  I  speak  of^  which  looses  the 
tongues  of  Christians,  and  makes  them  eloquent  in  teaching,  every  man 
his  neighbor,  and  every  man  his  brother,  that  knowledge  of  God  and 
Christ  which  is  unto  life  eternal.  "  Restore  to  nie  the  joy  of  thy  salvation," 
said  the  mourning  Psalmist ;  "  then  will  I  teach  transgressors  thy  ways," 
It  would  wing  their  feet  for  swift  journeys  through  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  earth,  and  the  glad  tidings  of  saving  love  would  spread 
from  land  to  land,  and  be  heard  in  every  island,  every  hamlet,  every 
dwelling  on  the  globe,  before  the  present  generation  has  passed  away. 

8.  And,  finally,  we  are  not  sure,  that  if  the  joy  of  the  Lord  pervaded 
the  Christian  church  to  the  degree  to  which  it  might,  and  by  all  means 
should  extend,  the  work  of  saving  the  world  would  not  go  on  of  itself 
almost  without  labor.  Certain  it  is,  that,  in  that  condition  of  things 
labor  would  itself  be  a  joy ;  but  may  we  not  believe  (now  that  Christ- 
ianity is  no  stranger  in  the  earth,  but  has,  for  eighteen  hundred  years, 
been  giving  infallible  proof  of  her  celestial  descent,  and  her  contnnicd 
connection  with  the  place  of  her  origin),  that  the  necessity  for  pat'ent  and 
agonizing  cftbrt,  if  the  chinch  were  in  the  state  supposed,  would  bo 
superseded  ? 

Heaven  then,  would,  in  a  sense,  come  down  to  earth ;  the  tabernacle 
of  God  would  be  with  men  ;  and  mankind  would  know  and  see  the  place 
of  happiness  ;  and  would  they  not  also,  by  the  grace  of  God,  through  the 
operation  of  that  new  spectacle,  be  drawn  thitherward  as  of  themselves? 
The  nature  of  man  still  inclines  him  after  happiness.  The  disappoinlnient 
of  six  thousand  years  has  not  abated  the  strength  of  this  indestructible 
propensity. 


874  THOMAS    H.    SKINNER. 

Who  can  tell  but  that  such  a  sight  as  the  general  church  of  Christ, 
lilled  with  the  joy  of  the  Lord,  would,  under  the  divine  blessing,  deter- 
mine that  propensity  to  its  proper  end  ?  That  it  is  of  all  things  the  best 
adapted  to  have  this  effect,  is  certainly  a  good  reason  for  supposing  that 
the  Spirit  of  grace,  who  is  also  the  Spirit  of  fitness  and  order,  would  pre- 
fer it  before  any  other  insti'umentality.  For  our  own  part,  we  can  not 
but  think  it  would  do  more  in  a  few  years,  independently  of  labor,  than 
the  labor  of  many  ages  without  it.  It  would  make  the  chiirch  a  wonder 
in  the  earth.  The  mountain  of  the  Lord's  house  would  stand  upon  the 
top  of  the  mountains ;  it  would  be  illuminated  with  divine  glory ;  its 
luster  would  outshine  that  of  the  sun ;  it  would  enlighten  the  world  ;  the 
remotest  nations  would  see  it,  and  would  not  all  nations  flow  unto  it  ? 

The  world  hitherto  has  not  regarded  the  church  as  the  seat  of  blessed- 
ness. It  has  had  too  little  reason  thus  to  regard  it.  Religion,  by  old 
report,  is  happiness;  but  it  is  religion  as  contained  in  books,  not  as  dwell- 
ing in  the  heai'ts,  or  as  shining  out  in  the  examples  of  its  }X)ssessors. 
With  comparatively  few  exceptions,  since  the  primitive  times,  the  lives 
of  Christians  have  misrepresented  the  spirit  of  their  religion.  The  world 
have  judged  it  a  sour,  unhappy,  gloomy  spirit ;  and  they  have  not  wanted 
occasion  to  do  so.  They  who  have  called  themselves  Christians  have 
seemed  little  happier  than  others.  The  great  majority  of  them  have 
practically  declared  their  religion  a  gloomy  thing,  by  going  to  the  world 
itself  for  pleasure.  Of  the  rest,  the  generality  seem  to  pass  through 
life,  either  with  just  enough  of  interest  in  religion  to  keep  their  member- 
ship in  the  church  ;  or  in  a  cold,  perfunctory  preciseness ;  or  in  austeri- 
ties which  make  religion  identical  with  penance ;  or  in  a  forced,  driving- 
zeal,  which  bespeaks  more  of  fierceness,  than  calm,  heavenly  peace  and  joy. 
A  few  noble  exceptions,  indeed,  there  have  been  ;  but  to  the  world's  eye 
these  exceptive  cases  have  commonly  been  lost  in  the  multitude  of  their 
gloomy,  or  earthly-minded  brethren. 

Has  not  the  church  been  the  dwelling-place,  rather  of  doubt  and  fear, 
than  of  sensible  delight  in  God  ?  Is  it  not  the  way  of  even  the  best  of 
her  members  to  be  habitually  questioning  in  themselves  whether  they 
be  not  reprobates,  instead  of  exulting  in  the  full  assurance  of  hope  ? 
Besides,  has  not  the  church  been  almost  continually  a  scene  of  conten- 
tion, and  confusion,  and  bitter  wrath,  a  dread  and  terror,  rather  than  a 
charm  to  the  world  ?  O,  let  it  not  be  said  that  the  experiment  of  what 
may  be  done  to  save  the  world  by  the  influence  of  a  general  example  of 
spiritual  peace  and  joy,  has  yet  been  tried.  Enough  has  been  ascertained 
to  encourage  the  highest  expectation ;  the  success  of  the  first  Christians, 
the  fruits  of  the  individual  examples  of  such  blessed  men  as  Baxter,  Fia- 
vel,  and  Edwards,  beget  the  greatest  confidence  as  to  what  would  be  the 
result  of  experiment ;  but  the  experiment  remains  to  be  made.  Come 
the  day  when  it  shall  be  in  full  operation.  Hope  is  fixed  on  the  appear- 
ance of  that  period,  and  that  it  will  appear,  can  there  be  a  doubt  ?  Have 


SPIRITUAL    JOY    AS    AN    ELEMENT    OF    STRENGTH.     375 

not  the  prophets  declared  it?  The  Lord  in  his  compassion  cnt  short  the 
delay  ;  make  Jerusalem  a  rejoicing,  and  so  a  praise  in  the  earth  ;  give  to 
all  Christians,  in  answer  to  the  prayer  of  Christ,  that  unity  of  soul,  in 
which  the  Father  and  the  Son  are  united  to  each  other,  the  unity  of  di- 
vine love  and  joy.  Then  shall  our  unhappy  world  learn  the  error  of  its 
way,  forsake  the  broken  cisterns  of  sin,  and  come  to  the  fountain  of  liv 
ing  waters. 

These  considerations  make  it  manifest  that  none  of  those  who  call 
themselves  Christians,  ought  to  live  so  much  as  one  day,  or  one  hour, 
except  when  taking  their  rest  in  sleep,  without  the  feeling  of  spiritual 
delight,  potentially  at  least,  in  their  hearts.  It  should  suffice  no  member 
of  the  Christian  church,  to  maintain  a  conversation  externally  irreproach- 
able, to  live  in  honesty  and  in  credit  with  mankind,  and  to  observe  the 
stated  times  and  services  of  religion  ;  no,  not  even,  if,  in  addition  to  this, 
he  sets  an  example  of  liberality.  This  is  but  a  low  stantTard  of  religion, 
and  no  man  who  has  any  just  concern  for  the  cause  of  God  in  this  world, 
or  for  his  own  salvation,  can  content  himself  with  it.  A  man  may  live 
in  this  manner,  and  live  in  darkness,  in  coldness,  in  fear,  respecting  his 
own  soul,  and  his  fear  may  be  realized.  Every  Christian  on  earth  ought 
to  be  a  specimen  of  the  happiness  Christianity  is  adapted  to  impart ;  a 
reflector  by  example  of  the  light  of  heavenly  joy.  He  ought  to  be  not 
only  a  conscientious,  a  devout,  a  liberal  Christian,  but  a  happy  Christian 
also  ;  happy  in  God  and  the  spirit  of  heaven  all  the  day  long.  He  owes 
it  to  the  cause  of  his  Saviour,  to  himself,  his  family,  his  brethren  in  the 
taith,  the  world  of  mankiiid,  to  live  a  serene,  cheerful,  and  heavenly  life. 
This  is  plainly  a  just  inference  from  the  preceding  remarks,  and  it  is  an 
inference  which  divine  authority  confirms. 

To  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  is  a  command  urged  with  great  earnestness 
upon  all  Christians.  Scripture  is  exceedingly  strenuous  in  its  mode  of 
enforcing  this  command:  Rejoice  i/i  the  Lord  always^  and  again  I say^ 
Hijoice.  What  has  been  said  may  show  us  that  there  is  a  sufficient  rea- 
son for  this  requirement ;  and  is  it  not  strange,  indeed,  that  Christians, 
whose  characteristic  spirit  is  submissiveness  to  the  divine  will,  should 
scarcely  seem  to  blame  themselves  for  an  habitual  disregard  of  it  ? 
What  more  could  God  have  done,  than  he  has  done,  to  give  his  people 
gi-ounds  and  occasions  for  joys  ?  Has  he  kept  his  glory  out  of  their 
view?  Has  he  not  shoA\Ti  himself  good  enough?  Could  he  have  loved 
them  more  than  he  has  done  ?  Could  he  have  made  greater  sacrifices 
for  their  sakes  ?  Could  he  have  gone  to  greater  lengths  to  win  their 
com])lacency,  than  to  give  up  his  own  dear  Son  for  the  ransom  of  their 
souls  ?  Could  he  have  added  a  greater  blessing  after  that,  than  to  send 
down  his  Spirit  to  dwell  with  them  forever?  Could  he  have  been  more 
explicit  and  more  full  in  his  assurances  of  kind  feeling  and  tender  love  ? 
Could  he  have  given  them  better  promises,  or  spread  before  thera 
brighter  prospects,  or  called  thera  to  greater  privileges,  or  to  a  more 


376  THOMAS   n.  skinner, 

honorable  service  ?  Has  not  God  seemed  in  all  his  dispensations  and 
doino-s  toAvard  his  people,  to  have  had  distinctly  in  liis  purpose,  that  they 
should  Avant  nothing  which  infinite  love  could  supply,  to  call  forth  their 
joy  and  gladness  of  soul?  When,  by  his  apostle,  he  hfts  up  the  voice 
of  authority,  commanding  them  to  rejoice  in  the  Lord  always — can  they 
be  justified  in  replying  to  him,  We  have  no  causes  for  joy ;  the  state  of 
mind  required,  demands  an  object  suited  to  jjroduce  it,  and  no  such  ob- 
ject has  been  presented  to  us  ? 

There  are,  it  may  be  thought,  subjective  difficulties  in  the  way.  But, 
can  it  be  that  there  are  insurmountable  difficulties  of  this  land,  when 
obhgation  to  rejoice  is  in  full  force  upon  the  mind  ?  Who  can  believe 
this?  Surely  nothing  but  mental  insanity,  or  such  a  condition  of  the 
body  as  sets  aside  self-control,  in  either  of  which  cases,  obligation  ceases, 
can  be  a  just  apology  for  not  exercising  holy  joy.  So  abundant  are  the 
promises  of  divine  grace,  that  if  we  are  not  straitened  in  ourselves,  we 
may  be  able  to  keep  up  a  calm,  and  cheerful,  and  heavenly  frame  of  spirit 
in  any  circumstances  of  worldly  discomposure  which  do  not  produce  a 
real  derangement  of  intellect.  The  triumph  of  some  Christians  over 
such  circumstances  has  been  complete;  nervous  debility,  severe  sickness 
and  pain,  and  the  very  agonies  of  dissolution  ha^e  not  been  &ble  to  keep 
ihem  from  rejoicing  in  the  Lord.  If  any  feel  incredulous  in  rcs])ect  to 
this  matter,  let  us  ask  them  to  consider  whether,  if  they  walked  as 
closely  with  God  as  did  Baxter,  or  Paul,  or  Enoch,  they  would  be  likely 
to  retain  their  present  doubts.  Alas!  we  destroy  the  health  of  the  Ijody 
by  ou.r  reckless  way  of  treating  it,  and  then  make  bodily  indisposition 
an  excuse  for  keeping  the  soul  in  darkness,  and  leanness,  and  spiritual 
distempers. 

The  plain  truth  is  this,  that  what  hinders  our  joy  is  allowed  sin.  The 
power  of  sin  to  do  this  is  great.  This  little  hand,  said  Whiteficld,  plac- 
ing his  hand  near  his  eyes,  as  he  was  preaching  in  the  field,  while  the 
glorious  sun  was  flooding  creation  with  his  beams — this  little  hand  hides 
all  the  luster  of  the  sun  from  my  eyes ;  and  so  a  little  sin  may  involve 
the  soul  in  darkness,  though  the  spiritual  world  be  all  bright  as  heaven 
itself  But  should  we,  therefore,  be  content  to  live  in  darkness,  or  set 
ourselves  with  more  resolution  against  all  forms  and  degrees  of  sin? 
The  latter  is  the  course  of  duty,  and  is  it  not  also  the  course  of  Avisdora  ? 
Is  it  idle  to  ask  the  question.  What  manner  of  persons  ought  we  to  be 
in  all  holy  conversation  and  godliness  ?  Why  is  it  we  do  not  under- 
stand, that  our  only  concei-n  in  this  world  is  to  keep  a  guileless  spirit,  a 
conscience  void  of  offense  ?  Alas !  that  we  should  suffer  such  things  as 
love  of  lucre,  or  of  pre-eminence,  or  of  sensual  pleasure,  or  jealous,  and 
envious,  and  irascible  feeUngs,  to  rest  in  our  bosoms,  and  stay  there  from 
day  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  and  month  to  month,  in  the  place  which 
should  be  ever  sacred  to  the  gracious  aflections ;  in  the  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost !     Alas  !  that  we  should  be  so  infrequent,  so  cursory,  so  cold 


SPIllITUAL    JOY    AS    AN    ELEMENT    OF    STIiEXGTII.     377 

in  jivayer ;  so  seldom  in  fastings,  so  formal  and  lifeless  in  the  duties  of 
the  sanctuary ;  that  we  should  be  so  uncircumspect  in  speech,  so  little 
intent  on  walking  in  the  Spirit ;  in  all  the  pursuits  of  life,  so  regardless 
of  the  great  principle  of  Christian  morals,  which  demands  that  we  do 
all  things,  even  to  eating  and  drinking,  to  the  glory  of  God ;  that  Ave 
should  have  so  little  fellowship  (might  we  not  rather  say,  such  disagree- 
ment ?)  with  Paul,  in  his  purpose  to  do  but  this  one  thing  all  his  life  long 
— forgettmg  the  things  behind,  and  reaching  forth  to  those  before,  to 
press  toward  the  mark,  for  the  prize  of  his  high  calling?  Here  is  the 
secret  of  our  want  of  religious  joy,  of  our  spiritual  doubts  and  fears; 
and  also  of  our  readhiess  to  justify  them. 

But  shall  such  things  vitiate  and  set  aside  the  law  of  Christ's  kingdom 
before  recited,  Rejoice  in  the  Lord  always;  and  again,  I  say,  Rejoice. 
No,  this  is  as  irreversible  as  any  other  statute  of  the  eternal  realm.  It 
has  been  given  out,  not  to  be  neglected,  but  obeyed.  It  is  the  duty  of 
all  Christians  to  rejoice  evermore,  and  the  importance  of  their  fulHlling 
this  duty,  no  tongue  can  fully  tell.  Immortal  souls,  in  countless  multi- 
tudes, have  gone  to  an  undone  eternity,  in  consequence  of  its  not  having 
been  fulfilled ;  the  salvation  of  the  world  still  lingers  from  the  same 
cause ;  for  want  of  holy  joy  in  the  church,  all  the  means  of  grace  in 
operation,  are  comparatively  ineftectual ;  the  triumph  of  the  gospel  is  kept 
back  on  this  sole  account ;  and  the  gloominess  and  sadness  of  Christians 
keep  up  a  sort  of  rejoicing  among  the  spirits  of  darkness. 


DISCOURSE    XXYIII. 

ELIPHALET    NOTT,    D.  T>.,   I.L.  D. 

The  venerable  President  of  Union  College  was  born  of  poor  parents  in  Ashford, 
Connecticut,  in  June,  1773.  He  lost  both  his  parents  wliile  yet  a  boy.  It  is  said 
that  a  thirst  for  learning  was  suffered  to  prey  upon  him  in  secret  until  he  had 
reached  the  age  of  nine  or  ten  years ;  when,  upon  perceiving  one  day  a  neighboring 
physician  ride  past  the  field  where  he-  was  at  work,  his  feelings  were  too  powerfully 
excited  to  be  longer  restrained.  He  dropped  the  hoe  with  which  he  was  laboring, 
resolved  that  his  life  as  a  farmer  should  end  there ;  and  going  to  the  residence  of  the 
physician,  requested  to  be  received  as  a  student.  He  was  advised  by  the  physician 
to  devote  himself  to  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  if  his  friends  favored  it ;  and  he 
soon  after  this  went  to  hve  with  his  elder  brother,  the  Eev.  Samuel  Nott,  pastor  of 
a  Congregational  church,  at  Franklin,  Connecticut,  Here  he  was  enabled  to  gratify  his 
desire  for  learning,  and  acquired  some  knowledge  of  Greek,  Latin,  and  mathematics, 
at  the  same  time  teaching  district  school  in  the  winter,  in  order  to  obtain  the  means  of 
support.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  took  charge  of  a  school  at  Plainfield ;  and  two 
years  later,  obtained  his  bachelor's  degree  at  Brown  University.  Young  Nott  then 
turned  his  attention  to  the  ministry,  and  when  twenty-two  years  of  age  was  licensed 
to  preach.  The  first  year  of  his  ministry  he  labored  as  a  missionary  at  Cheny 
Valley,  in  the  double  relation  of  pastor  and  principal  of  the  academy ;  and  in  the 
latter  capacity  he  soon  gathered  around  him  quite  a  large  number  of  pupils.  He 
remained  there  but  for  two  years,  however,  and  in  1798  he  became  the  j^astor  of 
the  Presbyterian  church  in  Albany,  where  he  preached  for  six  years  Avith  great  suc- 
cess. While  here,  he  preached  his  celebrated  sermon  on  the  Fall  of  Hamilton;  and 
very  soon  afterward,  in  1804,  was  elected  to  the  presidency  of  Union  College.  He 
has  been  to  this  institution,  ever  since,  its  financier,  its  president,  and  its  most  Hberal 
pecuniary  benefactor. 

When  Dr.  Nott  took  charge  of  the  college,  it  had  but  fourteen  students;  its  build- 
ings were  unfinished,  its  funds  exhausted,  and  its  prospects  generally  gloomy.  He 
obtained  grants  of  land  from  the  State,  endowed  professorships,  built  libraries,  fur- 
nished appai'atus,  and  raised  the  institution  to  the  rank  which  it  now  holds.  Dr. 
Nott  has  also  claims  to  notice  by  his  labors  in  the  field  of  practical  mechanics.  By 
his  experiments  in  heat,  and  the  improvements  he  introduced,  he  effected  an  entire 
revolution  in  the  mode  of  warming  buildings.  Nott's  stoves  have  had  quite  a  rep- 
utation. Although  Dr.  Nott  is  said  to  have  written  much,  he  has  published  but 
little.  As  a  pulpit  orator,  he  is  said  to  have  had,  in  his  prime,  but  few  equals.  He 
still  continues  in  the  active  discharge  of  his  duties,  at  the  very  great  age  of  eighty- 
four  years.     His  ecclesiastical  connection  is  with  the  Old  School  Presbyterians. 


THE     FALL     OF    HAMILTON.  379 

The  leading  characteristics  of  Dr.  Nott  are  candor,  discriuiination,  and  versatility, 
joined  with  wonderful  power  of  application.  As  a  speaker  and  writer,  his  power 
consists  not  so  much  in  the  logical  as  the  imaginative.  His  mind  is  naturally  poetic 
and  descriptive.  One  of  his  students  says :  "  We  have  seen  him,  while  lecturing  on 
Kames's  Elements  of  Criticism,  draw  a  picture  so  touching  and  life-like  that  half  of 
tlie  class  would  be  in  tears."  It  is  impossible  to  escape  the  charms  of  his  eloquence. 
One  has  said  of  his  writings  :  "  In  Dr.  Nott's  prose  there  is  more  genuine  poetry  than 
in  two-thirds  of  the  volumes  named  such  on  title-pages."  It  is  believed  that  some 
of  the  finest  specimens  of  English  literature  in  the  language,  He  locked  up  in  his 
desk. 

The  famous  discourse  here  furnished,  by  permission  of  Dr.  Nott,  was  occasioned 
by  the  death  of  General  Alexander  Hamilton,  who  was  killed,  in  a  duel,  by  Aaron 
Burr,  at  Hoboken.  K  J.,  July  11th,  1804.  It  was  dehvered  in  the  North  Dutch 
Church,  Albany,  on  the  29th  of  that  mouth ;  and  passages  of  it  have  been  incorpo- 
rated into  our  literature  as  specimens  of  singular  and  thrilhng  eloquence.  Dr.  Nott 
expressed  himself  as  the  more  willing  that  we  should  reproduce  it,  from  the  fact  that 
the  false  "  code  of  honor"  seems  of  late  to  be  somewhat  revived. 


THE    FALL    OF    HAMILTON. 

"How  are  the  mighty  fallen!" — 2  Samuel,  I  19. 

The  occasion  explains  the  choice  of  my  subject — a  subject  on  which  I 
enter  ui  obedience  to  youi'  request.  You  have  assembled  to  express 
your  elegiac  sorrows,  and  sad  and  solemn  weeds  cover  you.  Before 
such  an  audience,  and  on  such  an  occasion,  I  enter  on  the  duty  assigned 
me  with  trembling.  Do  not  mistake  my  meaning.  I  tremble,  indeed — 
not,  however,  through  fear  of  failing  to  merit  your  ai)plause ;  for  what 
have  I  to  do  with  that,  when  addressing  the  dying  and  treading  on  the 
ashes  of  the  dead  ? — not  through  fear  of  failing  justly  to  portray  the 
character  of  that  great  man,  who  is  at  once  the  theme  of  my  enco- 
mium and  regret.  He  needs  not  eulogy.  His  work  is  finished,  and 
death  has  removed  him  beyond  my  censure,  and  I  would  fondly  hope, 
through  grace,  above  my  praise. 

You  will  ask,  then,  why  I  tremble  ?  I  tremble  to  think  that  I  am 
called  to  attack  from  this  place  a  crime,  the  very  idea  of  which  almost 
freezes  one  with  horror — a  crime,  too,  which  exists  among  the  polite  and 
polished  orders  of  society,  and  which  is  accompanied  with  every  aggra- 
vation— committed  with  cool  deliberation,  and  openly  in  the  faceof  day ! 
But  I  have  a  duty  to  perform ;  and  difficult  and  awful  as  tliat  duty  is,  I 
will  not  shrink  from  it.  Would  to  God  my  talents  were  adequate  to  the 
occasion  ;  but  such  as  they  are,  I  devoutly  proffer  them  to  unfold  the 
nature  and  counteract  the  influence  of  that  barbarous  custom,  which, 
like  a  resistless  torrent,  is  undermining  the  foundations  of  civil  govern- 


380  ELIPIIALET    NOTT. 

ment,  breaking  clown  the  barriers  of  social  happiness,  and  sweeping  away 
virtue,  talents,  and  domestic  felicity,  in  its  desolatuig  course.  Another 
and  an  illustrious  character — a  father,  a  general,  a  statesman — the  very 
man  who  stood  on  an  eminence,  and  without  a  rival  among  sages  and 
heroes,  the  future  hope  of  his  country  in  danger — this  man,  yielding  to 
the  influence  of  a  custom  which  deserves  our  eternal  reprobation,  has 
been  brought  to  an  untimely  end  ! 

That  the  deaths  of  great  and  useful  men  should  be  particularly  noticed, 
is  equally  the  dictate  of  reason  and  revelation.  The  tears  of  Israel 
flowed  at  the  decease  of  good  Josiah,  and  to  his  memory  the  funeral 
women  chanted  the  solemn  dirge.  But  neither  examples  nor  arguments 
are  necessary  to  Avake  the  sympathies  of  a  grateful  people  on  such  occa- 
sions. The  death  of  public  benefactors  surcharges  the  heart,  and  it  spon- 
taneously disburdens  itself  by  a  flow  of  sorrows.  Such  was  the  death 
of  Washington,  to  embalm  whose  memory,  and  perpetuate  whose  death- 
less fame,  we  lent  our  feeble,  but  uuuecessary  services.  Such,  also,  and 
more  peculiarly  so,  has  been  the  death  of  Hamilton.  The  tidings  of  the 
former  moved  us — mournfully  moved  us — and  we  wept.  The  account 
of  the  latter  chilled  our  hopes  and  curdled  our  blood.  The  former  died 
in  a  good  old  age  ;  the  latter  was  cut  ofl"  in  the  midst  of  his  usefulness. 
The  former  was  a  customary  providence :  we  saAV  in  it,  if  I  may  speak  so, 
the  finger  of  God,  and  rested  in  his  sovereignty.  The  latter  is  not  at- 
tended with  this  sootjiing  circumstance. 

The  fall  of  Hamilton  owes  its  existence  to  mad  deliberation,  and  is 
marked  by  violence.  The  time,  the  place,  the  circumstances,  are  arranged 
with  barbarous  coolness.  The  instrument  of  death  is  leveled  in  daylight, 
and  with  well-directed  skill  pointed  at  his  heart.  Alas !  the  event  has 
proven  that  it  was  but  too  well  directed.  Wounded,  mortally  wounded, 
on  the  very  spot  which  still  smoked  with  the  blood  of  a  favorite  son^ 
into  the  arms  of  his  indiscreet  and  cruel  friend,  the  father  fell.  Ah !  had 
he  fallen  in  the  course  of  nature,  or  jeopardizing  his  life  in  defense  of 
his  country ;  had  he  fallen But  he  did  not.  He  fell  in  single  com- 
bat. Pardon  ray  mistake — he  did  not  fall  in  single  combat :  his  noble 
nature  refused  to  endanger  the  Ufe  of  his  antagonist.  But  he  exposed 
his  own  life.  This  was  his  crime ;  and  the  sacredness  of  my  oftice  forbids 
that  I  should  hesitate  explicitly  to  declare  it  so.  He  did  not  hesitate  to 
declare  it  so  himself:  "  My  religious  and  moral  principles  are  strongly 
opposed  to  dueling."  These  are  his  words  before  he  ventured  to  the 
field  of  death.  "  I  view  the  late  transaction  with  sorrow  and  contrition." 
These  are  his  words  after  his  return.  Humiliating  end  of  illustrious 
greatness!  How  are  the  mighty  fallen!  And  shall  the  mighty  thus 
fall  ?  Thus  shall  the  noblest  lives  be  sacrificed  and  the  richest  blood  be 
spilt !     Tdl  it  not  in  Gath  ;  publish  it  not  in  the  streets  of  Askalon. 

Think  not  that  the  fatal  issue  of  the  late  inhuman  interview  was  for- 
tuitous.    No :  the  hand  that  guides  unseen  the  arrow  of  the  archer, 


THE     FALL    OF     HAMILTOX.  gSl 

Steadied  and  directed  the  arm  of  the  duellist.  And  why  did  it  tluis  di- 
rect it  ?  As  a  solemn  memento — as  a  loud  and  awful  warniug  to  a  com- 
munity where  justice  has  slumbered,  and  slumbered,  and  slumbered — 
while  the  wife  has  been  robbc'l  of  her  partner,  the  mother  of  her  hopes, 
and  life  after  life  rashly,  and  with  an  air  of  triumph,  s})orted  away.  And 
was  there,  O  my  God  !  no  other  sacrifice  A'aluable  enough  ?  Would  the 
cry  of  no  other  blood  reach  the  place  of  retribution,  and  wake  justice, 
dozing  over  her  aAvful  seat  ?  But  though  justice  should  still  slumber 
and  retribution  be  delayed,  we,  who  are  the  ministers  of  that  God  Avho 
will  judge  the  judges  of  the  world,  and  whose  malediction  rests  on  him 
who  does  his  work  unfliithfully — we  will  not  keep  silence. 

I  feel,  my  brethren,  how  incongruous  my  subject  is  with  the  place  I 
occupy.  It  is  humiliating,  it  is  distressing,  in  a  Christian  country,  and 
in  churches  consecrated  to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  to  be  obliged  to  attack 
a  crime  which  outstrips  barbarism,  and  would  even  sink  the  character  of 
a  generous  savage.  But  humiliating  as  it  is,  it  is  necessaiy.  And 
must  we,  then,  even  for  a  moment,  forget  the  elevation  on  which  grace 
hath  placed  us,  and  the  light  which  the  gospel  sheds  around  us?  Must 
we  place  ourselves  back  in  the  midst  of  barbarism  ?  And  instead  of 
hearers  softened  to  forgiveness  by  the  love  of  Jesus,  filled  with  noble 
sentiments  toward  enemies,  and  waiting  for  occasions,  after  the  example 
of  divinity,  to  do  them  good — instead  of  such  hearers,  must  we  suppose 
ourselves  addressing  hearts  petiified  to  goodness,  incapable  of  mei-cy, 
and  boiling  with  revenge?  Must  we,  O  my  God  !  instead  of  exhorting 
those  who  hear  us,  to  go  on  unto  perfection,  adding  to  virtue  charity^ 
and  to  charlti/,  hrotlierly  kindness ;  must  we,  as  if  sui-rounded  by  an 
auditory  just  emerging  out  of  darkness,  and  still  cruel  and  ferocious, 
reason  to  convince  them  that  revenge  is  improper,  and  that  to  commit 
deliberate  nnn-der  is  sin  ?  Yes,  we  must  do  this.  Repeated  violations 
of  the  law,  and  the  sanctuary  which  the  guilty  find  in  jniblic  sentiment, 
prove  that  it  is  necessary. 

Withdraw,  therefore,  for  a  moment,  ye  celestial  spirits,  ye  holy  angels, 
accustomed  to  hover  round  these  altars,  and  listen  to  those  strains  of 
grace  which  heretofore  have  filled  this  house  of  God.  Other  subjects 
occui>y  us.  Withdraw,  therefore,  and  leave  us  ;  leave  us  to  exhort 
Christian  parents  to  restrain  their  vengeance,  and  at  least  to  keep  back 
their  liands  from  blood — to  exhort  youth  nurtured  in  Christian  families, 
4ot  rashly  to  sport  Avith  life,  nor  lightly  to  wring  the  widow's  heart  with 
sorrows,  and  fill  the  orjjhan's  eye  with  tears. 

In  accomplishing  the  object  which  is  before  me,  it  will  not  be  ex- 
pected, as  it  is  not  necessary,  that  I  should  give  a  liistoiy  of  dueling. 
You  need  not  be  informed  that  it  originated  in  a  dark  and  barbarous 
age.  The  poHshed  Greek  knew  nothing  of  it;  the  noble  Roman  was 
above  it.  Rome  held  in  equal  detestation  the  man  who  exposed  his  life 
unnecessarily,  and  him  who  refused  to  expose  it  when  the  public  good 


382  ELIPHALET    NOTT. 

required  it.*  Her  heroes  were  superior  to  private  contests.  They  in 
dulged  no  vengeance,  except  against  the  enemies  of  their  country. 
Their  swords  were  not  drawn,  unless  her  honor  was  in  danger ;  which 
honor  they  defended  with  tlieir  swords  not  only,  but  shielded  with  their 
bosoms  also,  and  were  then  prodigal  of  their  blood.  But  though  Greece 
and  Rome  knew  nothing  of  dueling,  it  exists.  It  exists  among  us  ;  and 
it  exists  at  once  the  most  Pwvsii,  the  most  absurd  and  guilty  practice 
that  ever  disgraced  a  Christian  nation. 

Guilty — Because  it  is  a  violation  of  the  law.  What  law?  The  law  of 
God  :  Thou  shalt  not  kill.  This  prohibition  was  delivered  by  God 
himself,  nt  Sinai  to  the  Jews,  And,  that  it  is  of  univei-sal  and  perpetual 
obligation,  is  manifest  ftom  the  nature  of  the  crime  prohibited,  not  only, 
but  also  from  the  express  declaration  of  the  Christian  lawgiver,  who  hath 
recognized  its  justice  and  added  to  it  the  sanction  of  his  own  authority. 

"  Tliou  shalt  not  kill.".  Who  ?  Thou,  creature.  I,  the  Creator,  have 
given  life,  and  thou  shalt  not  take  it  away  !  When,  and  under  what  cir- 
cumstances may  I  not  tai<e  away  life  ?  JsTever,  and  under  no  circumstan- 
ces, without  my  permission.  It  is  obvious  that  no  discretion  whatever  is 
here  given.  The  prohibition  is  addressed  to  every  individual  where, 
the  law  of  God  is  promulgated,  and  the  terms  made  use  of  are  express 
and  unequivocal.  So  that  life  can  not  be  taken  under  any  pretext,  with- 
out incurring  guilt,  unless  by  a  permission  sanctioned  by  the  same 
authority  which  sanctions  the  general  law*  prohibiting  it.  From  this  law, 
it  is  granted,  there  are  exceptions.  These  exceptions,  however,  do  not 
result  from  any  sovereignty  which  one  creature  has  over  the  3xistence 
of  another ;  but  from  the  positive  appointment  of  that  eternal  being, 
whose  "  is  the  world  and  the  fullness  thereof.  In  whose  hand  is  the  soul 
of  every  living  creature,  and  the  breath  of  all  mankind."  Even  the 
authority  wdiich  we  claim  over  the  lives  of  animals  is  not  founded  on  a 
natural  right,  but  on  a  positive  grant  made  by  the  Deity  himself,  to 
Noah  and  his  sons.  This  grant  contains  our  warrant  for  taking  the  life 
of  animals.  But  if  we  may  not  take  the  life  of  animals  without  permis- 
sion from  God,  much  less  may  we  the  life  of  man  made  in  his  image. 

In  what  cases,  then,  has  the  sovereign  of  life  given  this  permission  ? 
In  kigiitful  avar  ;  by  the  civil  magistrate,  and  in  necessary  self- 
defense.  Besides  these,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  declare,  that  in  the  oracles 
of  God  thei-e  are  no  other. 

Pie,  therefore,  who  takes  life  in  any  other  case,  under  whatever  jire- 
text,  takes  it  unwarrantably — is  guilty  of  what  the  Scriptures  call 
murder,  and  exposes  himself  to  the  malediction  of  that  God  who  is  an 
avenger  of  blood,  and  who  hath  said,  "At  the  hand  of  every  mnn's 
brother  will  I  require  the  life  of  man.  Whoso  sheddeth  man's  blood,  by 
man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.  The  duelist  contravenes  the  law  of  God  not 
only,  but  the  law  of  man  also.  To  the  prohibition  of  the  former  have 
*  Sallust,  dc  Bell.  Cati].,  ix. 


THE    PALL    OF    HAMILTON.  383 

been  added  the  sanctions  of  the  latter.  Life  taken  in  a  duel  by  the 
common  law  is  murder.  And  where  this  is  not  the  case,  the  giving  and 
receiving  of  a  challenge  only,  is  by  statute  considered  a  high  misde- 
meanor, for  which  the  principal  and  his  second  are  declared  infamous  and 
disfVanchised  for  twenty  years. 

Under  what  accumulated  circumstances  of  aggravation  does  the  duel- 
ist jeopardize  his  own  life,  or  take  the  life  of  his  antagonist.  I  am  sen- 
sible, that  in  a  licentious  age,  and  when  laws  are  made  to  yield  to  the 
vices  of  those  who  move  in  the  higher  ch'cles,  this  crime  is  called  by  I 
know  not  what  mild  and  accommodating  name.  But,  before  these  altars 
— in  this  house  of  God — what  is  it  ?  It  is  murder — deliberate  aggra- 
vated murder  !  If  the  duelist  deny  this,  let  him  produce  his  warrant 
from  the  author  of  life  for  taking  away  from  his  creature  the  life  Avhich 
had  been  sovereignly  given.  If  he  can  not  do  this,  beyond  all  contro- 
versy he  is  a  murderer ;  for  murder  consists  in  taking  away  life  without 
the  permission,  and  contrary  to  the  prohibition  of  hhn  who  gave  it. 

Who  is  it,  then,  that  calls  the  duelist  to  the  dangerous  and  deadly 
combat  ?  Is  it  God  ?  No  :  on  the  contrary,  he  forbids  it.  Is  it,  then, 
his  country  ?  No  :  she  also  utters  her  prohibitory  voice.  Who  is  it, 
then  ?  A  man  of  honor  I  And  who  is  the  man  of  honor  ?  A  man, 
perhaps,  whose  honor  is  a  name  ;  who  prates  with  polluted  lips  about 
the  sacredness  of  character,  when  iiis  own  is  stained  with  crimes,  and 
needs  but  the  single  shade  of  murder  to  complete  the  dismal  and  sickly 
picture.  Every  transgression  of  the  divine  law  implies  great  guilt, 
because  it  is  the  transgression  of  infinite  authority.  But  the  crime  of 
deliberately  and  Ughtly  taking  life  has  peculiar  aggravations.  It  is  a  crime 
committed  against  written  law  not  only,  but  also  against  the  dictates  of 
reason,  the  remonstrances  of  conscience,  and  every  tender  and  amiable 
feeling  of  the  heart.  To  the  unfortunate  sufferer,  it  is  the  wanton  viola- 
tion of  his  most  sacred  rights.  It  snatches  him  fi'om  his  friends  and  his 
comforts  ;  terminates  his  state  of  trial,  and  precipitates  him,  uncalled  for, 
and  perhaps  unprepared,  into  the  presence  of  his  judge. 

You  say,  the  duelist  feels  no  malice.  Be  it  so.  Malice,  indeed,  is 
murder  in  principle.  But  there  may  be  murder  in  reason,  and  in  fact, 
where  there  is  no  malice.  Some  other  unwarrantable  passion  or  princij^lo 
may  lead  to  the  unlawful  taking  of  human  life.  The  highwayman,  who 
cuts  the  throat  and  rifles  the  pocket  of  the  passing  traveler,  feels  no 
malice.  And  could  he,  with  equal  ease  and  no  greater  daiiger  of  detec- 
tion, have  secured  his  booty  Avithout  taking  life,  he  Avould  have  stayed 
his  arm  over  the  palpitating  bosom  of  his  victim,  and  let  the  plundered 
suppliant  pass.  Would  the  imputation  of  cowardice  have  been  inevitable 
to  the  duelist,  if  a  challenge  had  not  been  given  or  accepted  ?  The  im- 
putation of  want  had  been  no  less  inevitable  to  the  robber,  if  the  money 
of  the  passing  traveler  had  not  been  secured.  Would  the  duelist  have 
been  Avilling  to  have  spared  the  life  of  his  antagonist,  if  the  jjoint  of  honor 


384  ELIPHALET    NOTT. 

could  otherwise  have  been  gained  ?  So  would  the  robber,  if  the  point  of 
property  could  have  been.  Who  can  say  that  the  motives  of  the  one  are 
not  as  urgent  as  the  motives  of  the  other,  and  the  means  by  which  both 
obtain  the  object  of  tlieir  wishes  are  the  same  ?  Thus,  according  to  the 
dictates  of  reason,  as  well  as  the  law  of  God,  the  highwayman  and  the 
duelist  stand  on  ground  equally  untenable  ;  and  support  their  guilty  havoc 
of  the  human  race  by  arguments  equally  fallacious. 

Is  dueling  guilty  ?  So  it  is  absukd.  It  is  absurd  as  a  punishment,  for 
it  admits  of  no  proportion  to  crimes  :  and  besides,  virtue  and  vice,  guilt 
and  innocence,  are  equally  exposed  by  it  to  death  or  suffering.  As  a 
reparation  it  is  still  more  absurd,  for  it  makes  the  injured  liable  to  still 
greater  injury.  And  as  the  vindication  of  personal  character,  it  is  absurd 
even  beyond  madness.  One  man  of  honor,  by  some  inadvertence,  or 
perhaps  with  design,  injures  the  sensibility  of  another  man  of  honor.  In 
perfect  character,  the  injured  gentleman  resents  it.  He  challenges  the 
offender.  The  offender  accepts  the  challenge.  The  time  is  fixed.  The 
place  is  agreed  upon.  The  circumstances,  with  an  air  of  solemn  mania, 
are  arranged  ;  and  the  principals,  with  their  seconds  and  surgeons,  retire 
under  the  covert  of  some  solitary  hill,  or  upon  the  margin  of  some  imfre- 
quented  beach,  to  settle  this  important  question  of  honor  by  stabbing  or 
shooting  at  each  other.  One  or  the  other  or  both  the  parties  fall  ia  this 
poUte  and  gentlemanlike  contest.  And  what  does  this  prove  ?  It  proves 
that  one  or  the  other,  or  both  of  them,  as  the  case  may  be,  are  marks- 
men. But  it  affords  no  evidence  that  either  of  them  possesses  honoi-, 
probity,  or  talents.  It  is  true,  that  he  who  falls  in  single  combat  has  the 
honor  of  being  murdered  :  and  he  who  takes  his  life  the  honor  of  a  mur- 
derer. Besides  this,  I  know  not  of  any  glory  which  can  redound  to  the 
infatuated  combatants,  except  it  be  what  results  from  having  extended 
the  circle  of  wretched  Avidows,  and  added  to  the  number  of  hapless 
orphans. 

And  yet,  tei-minate  as  it  will,  this  frantic  meeting,  by  a  kind  of  magic 
influence,  entirely  varnishes  over  a  defective  and  smutty  character ; 
transforms  vice  to  virtue,  cowardice  to  courage  ;  makes  fiilsehood  truth, 
guilt  innocence.  In  one  word,  it  gives  a  new  coiuplexion  to  the  whole 
state  of  things.  The  Ethiopian  changes  his  skin,  the  leopard  his  spot ; 
and  the  debauched  and  treacherous,  having  shot  away  the  infamy  of  a 
sorry  life,  comes  back  from  the  field  of  perfectibility  quite  regenerated, 
and  in  the  fullest  sense  an  honorable  man.  He  is  now  fit  for  the  company 
of  gentlemen.  He  is  admitted  to  that  company,  and  should  he  again  by 
acts  of  violence. stain  this  purity  of  character  so  nobly  acquired,  and 
should  any  one  have  the  effrontery  to  say  that  he  has  done  so,  again  he 
stands  ready  to  vindicate  his  honor,  and  by  another  act  of  homicide  to 
wipe  away  the  stain  which  has  been  attached  to  it. 

I  might  illustrate  this  article  by  example.  I  might  produce  instances 
of  this  mysterious  transformation  of  character,  in  the  sublime  circles  of 


THE     FALL     OF     HAMILTON. 


>60 


moral  refinement,  furnislied  by  the  liigher  orders  of  the  fashionable 
world,  which  the  mere  firing  of  pistols  has  produced.  But  the  occasion 
is  too  awful  for  irony. 

Absurd  as  dueling  is,  were  it  absurd  only,  though  Ave  might  smile  at 
the  Aveakness  and  pity  the  folly  of  its  abettors,  there  would  be  no  occa- 
sion for  seriously  attacking  them.  But,  to  what  has  been  said,  I  add, 
that  dueling  is  easii  and  pkesumptuous.  Life  is  the  gift  of  God,  and 
it  Avas  ncA-er  bestowed  to  be  sported  with.  To  each,  the  soA^ereign  of 
the  universe  has  marked  out  a  sj^here  to  move  in,  and  assigned  a  part  to 
act.  This  part  respects  ourselves  not  only,  but  others  also.  Each  lives 
for  the  benefit  of  all.  As  in  the  system  of  nature  the  sun  shines,  not  to 
display  its  OAvn  brightness,  and  answer  its  OAvn  convenience,  but  to 
warm,  enlighten,  and  bless  the  w^orld ;  so  in  the  system  of  animated 
beings,  there  is  a  dependence,  a  coi'respondence  and  a  relation  through 
an  infinitely  extended,  dying,  and  reviving  uni\'erse,  in  which  no  man 
liveth  to  himself^  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself.  Friend  is  related  to 
friend ;  the  fiither  to  his  family ;  the  individual  to  community.  To 
every  member  of  which,  having  fixed  his  station  and  assigned  his  duty, 
the  God  of  nature  says,  "Keep  this  trust — defend  this  post."  For 
whom  ?  For  thy  friends — thy  family — thy  country.  And  having  re- 
ceived such  a  charge,  and  for  such  a  purpose,  to  desert  it  is  rashness  and 
1  emeiity. 

Since  the  opinions  of  men  are  as  they  are,  do  you  ask,  hoAV  you  shall 
avoid  the  imputation  of  coAvardice,  if  you  do  not  fight  when  you  aie 
injured?  Ask  your  family  how  you  Avill  avoid  the  imputation  of  cruelty 
— ask  your  conscience  how  you  Avill  avoid  the  imjiutation  of  guilt — ask 
God  hoAV  you  Avill  avoid  his  malediction  if  you  do.  These  are  previous 
questions.  Let  these  first  be  ansAvered,  and  it  Avill  be  easy  to  reply  to 
any  Avhich  may  folloAV  them.  If  you  only  accept  a  challenge,  AA'-hen  you 
believe  in  your  conscience  that  dueling  is  wrong,  you  act  the  coAA'ard. 
The  dastardly  fear  of  the  Avorld  governs  you.  Awed  by  its  menaces, 
you  conceal  your  sentiments,  appear  in  disguise,  and  act  in  guilty  con- 
tbrmity  to  principles  not  your  oAvn,  and  that,  too,  in  the  most  solemn 
moment,  and  when  engaged  in  an  act  Avhich  exposes  you  to  death. 

But  if  it  be  rashness  to  accept,  how  passing  rashness  is  it,  in  a  sinner, 
to  give  a  challenge  ?  Does  it  become  him,  Avhose  life  is  measured  out 
by  Climes,  to  be  extreme  to  mark,  and  punctilious  to  resent  whatever  is 
amiss  in  othei'S?  Must  the  duelist,  Avho  now,  disdaining  to  forgive,  so 
imperiously  demands  satisfaction  to  the  uttermost — must  this  man,  him- 
self trembling  at  the  recollection  of  his  oifenses,  presently  appear  a  siip- 
])liant  before  the  mercy-seat  of  God?  Imagine  this,  and  the  case  is  n(-t 
imaginary,  and  you  can  not  conceive  an  instance  of  greater  inconsistency 
or  of  more  presumptuous  arrogance.  Wherefore,  avenge  not  yourselves^ 
but  ratlin-  give  jylace  unto  xcrath  ;  for  vengeance  is  mine^  I icill  rejxnj 
it,  saitJi  the  Loud. 


386  ELirnALET   nott. 

Do  you  ask,  then,  how  you  shall  conduct  toward  your  enemy  who 
hath  lightl}'  done  you  wrong  ?  If  he  be  hungry,  feed  him  ;  if  naked, 
clothe  him  ;  if  thirsty,  give  him  drink.  Such,  had  you  preferred  your 
question  to  Jesus  Christ,  is  the  answer  he  had  given  you ;  by  observ- 
ing which,  you  will  usually  subdue,  and  always  act  more  honorably  than 
your  enemy.  I  feel,  my  brethren,  as  a  minister  of  Jesus,  and  a  teacher 
of  his  gospel,  a  noble  elevation  on  this  article.  Compare  the  conduct 
of  the  Christian,  acting  in  conformity  to  the  principles  of  religion,  and 
of  the  duelist  acting  in  conformity  to  the  principles  of  honor,  and  let 
reason  say  which  bears  the  marks  of  the  most  exalted  greatness.  Com- 
pare them,  and  let  reason  say  which  enjoys  the  most  calm  serenity  of 
mind  in  time,  and  Avhich  is  likely  to  receive  the  plaudit  of  his  Judge  in 
immortaUty.  God,  from  his  throne,  beholds  not  a  nobler  object  on  his 
footstool,  than  the  man  who  loves  his  enemies,  pities  their  errors,  and 
forgives  the  injuries  they  do  him.  This  is,  indeed,  the  very  spirit  of  the 
heavens  ;  it  is  the  image  of  his  benignity  whose  glory  fills  them. 

To  return  to  the  subject  before  us :  guilty,  absurd,  and  eash  as  duel- 
ing is,  it  has  its  advocates.  And,  had  it  not  had  its  advocates — had  not  a 
strange  preponderance  of  opinion  been  in  favor  of  it,  never,  O,  lamented 
Hamilton  !  hadst  thou  thus  fallen,  in  the  midst  of  thy  days,  and  before 
thou  hadst  reached  the  zenith  of  thy  glory  !  0,  that  I  possessed  the 
talent  of  eulogy,  and  that  I  might  be  permitted  to  indulge  the  tender- 
ness of  friendship,  in  paying  the  last  tribute  to  his  memory.  O,  that  I 
were  capable  of  placing  this  great  man  before  you.  Could  I  do  this,  I 
should  furnish  you  with  an  argument,  the  most  practical,  the  most  plain, 
the  most  convincing,  except  that  drawn  from  the  mandate  of  God,  that 
was  ever  furnished  against  dueling — that  horrid  practice,  which  has,  in  an 
awful  moment,  robbed  the  world  of  such  exalted  worth.  But  I  can  not 
do  this ;  I  can  only  hint  at  the  variety  and  exuberance  of  his  excellence. 

The  MA:sr,  on  whom  nature  seems  originally  to  have  impressed  the 
stamp  of  greatness ;  whose  genius  beamed  from  the  retirement  of  col- 
legiiite  life,  with  a  radiance  which  dazzled,  and  a  loveliness  Avhich 
charmed  the  eye  of  sages.  The  hero,  called  from  his  sequestered  re- 
treat, whoso  first  appearance  in  the  field,  though  a  strii^ling,  conciliated 
the  esteem  of  Washixgtox,  our  good  old  father ;  moving  by  whose 
side,  during  all  the  perils  of  the  Revolution,  our  young  chieflain  was  a 
contributor  to  the  veteran's  glory,  the  guardian  of  his  person,  and  the 
compartner  of  his  toils.  The  conqueror,  who,  si:)aring  of  human  blood, 
when  victory  favored,  stayed  the  uplifted  arm,  and  nobly  said  to  the 
vanquished  enemy,  "live!"  The  statesman,  tlie  correctness  of  whose 
|irincii)les,  and  the  strength  of  whose  mind,  are  inscribed  on  the  records 
of  Congress,  and  on  the  annals  of  the  council-chamber ;  whose  genius 
impressed  itself  upon  the  constitutiok  of  his  country,  and  whose 
memory,  the  government — illustrious  fabric — resting  on  this  basis, 
will  perpetuate  Avhile  it  lasts;   and,  shaken  by  the  violence  of  paily, 


THE    FALL    OF    HAMILTON.  387 

should  it  fall  (which  may  heaven  avert !)  his  prophetic  declarations  will 
be  found  inscribed  on  its  ruins.  The  counselok,  who  was  at  once  the 
pride  of  the  bar,  and  the  admiration  of  the  court ;  whose  apprehensions 
were  quick  as  lightning,  and  whose  development  of  truth  was  luminous 
as  its  path ;  whose  argument  no  change  of  circumstances  could  embar- 
rass ;  whose  knowledge  appeared  intuitive,  and  who,  by  a  single  glance, 
and  with  as  much  facility  as  the  eye  of  the  eagle  passes  over  the  land- 
scape, surveyed  the  whole  field  of  controversy — saw  in  wdiat  way  truth 
might  be  most  successfully  defended,  and  how  error  must  be  approached. 
And  who,  without  ever  stopping,  ever  hesitating,  by  a  rapid  and  manly 
march,  led  the  listening  judge  and  the  fascinated  juror,  step  by  step, 
through  a  delightsome  region,  brightening  as  he  advanced,  till  his  argu- 
ment rose  to  demonstration,  and  eloquence  was  rendered  useless  by  con 
viction ;  whose  talents  were  employed  on  the  side  of  righteousness  ; 
whose  voice,  whether  in  the  council-chamber,  or  at  the  bar  of  justice, 
was  virtue's  consolation,  at  whose  approach  oppressed  humanity  felt  a 
secret  rapture,  and  the  heart  of  injured  innocence  leapt  for  joy. 

Where  Hamiltox  was — in  whatever  sphere  he  moved — the  friendless 
had  a  friend,  the  fatherless  a  father,  and  the  poor  man,  though  unable 
to  reward  his  kindness,  found  an  advocate.  It  was  when  the  rich  op- 
pressed the  poor — when  the  powerful  menaced  the  defenceless — w^hen 
truth  was  disregarded,  or  the  eternal  principles  of  justice  violated — it 
was  on  these  occasions  that  he  exerted  all  his  strength.  It  w*as  on  these 
occasions  that  he  sometime  soared  so  high,  and  shone  with  a  radiance  so 
transcendent,  I  had  almost  said,  so  "  heavenly  as  filled  those  around  him 
with  awe,  and  gave  to  him  the  force  and  authority  of  a  prophet." 

The  Patriot,  whose  integrity  bafHed  the  scrutiny  of  inquisition ; 
whose  manly  virtue  never  shaped  itself  to  circumstances ;  who,  always 
great,  always  himself,  stood  amid  the  varying  tides  of  party,  ^/?rm,  like  the 
rock,  which,  far  from  land,  lifts  its  majestic  top  above  the  waves,  and 
remains  unshaken  by  the  storms  which  agitate  the  ocean.  The  Fkiend, 
who  knew  no  guile ;  whose  bosom  was  transparent,  and  deep  in  the  bot- 
tom of  whose  heart  was  rooted  every  tender  and  sympathetic  virtue  ; 
whose  various  worth  opposing  parties  acknowledged  while  alive,  and  on 
whose  tomb  they  unite  with  equal  sympathy  and  grief  to  heap  their 
honors. 

I  know  he  had  his  failings.  I  see  on  the  picture  of  his  Ufe,  a  picture 
rendered  awful  by  greatness,  and  luminous  by  virtue,  some  dark  shades. 
On  these  let  the  tear  that  pities  human  weakness  fall :  on  these  let  the 
vail  which  covers  human  frailty  rest.  As  a  Hero,  as  a  Statesman,  as  a 
J'atriot,  ho  lived  nobly ;  and  would  to  God,  I  could  add,  he  nobly  fell. 

Unwilling  to  admit  his  error  in  this  respect,  I  go  back  to  the  perio<l 
of  discussion.  I  see  him  resisting  the  threatened  interview.  I  imagine 
myself  present  in  his  chamber.  Various  reasons,  for  a  time,  seem  to 
hold  his  determination  in  arrest.     Various  and  movmg  objects  pass  be- 


388  ELiPHALET    NOTT. 

fore  him,  and  speak  a  dissuasive  aiguage.  His  country,  which  may 
need  his  counsels  to  guide  and  his  arm  to  defend,  utters  her  veto.  The 
partner  of  his  youth,  abeady  covered  with  weeds,  and  whose  tears  flow 
down  into  her  bosom,  intercedes !  His  babes,  stretching  out  their  Uttle 
hands  and  jDointing  to  a  weeping  mother,  with  hsping  eloquence,  but 
eloquence  which  reaches  a  parent's  heart,  cry  out,  "  Stay,  stay,  dear 
father,  and  live  for  us !"  In  the  mean  time,  the  specter  of  a  fallen  son, 
pale  and  ghastly,  approaches,  opens  his  bleeding  bosom,  and  as  the  har- 
bmger  of  death,  points  to  the  yawning  tomb,  and  forewarns  a  hesitating 
father  of  the  issue.  He  pauses;  reviews  these  sad  objects,  and  reasons 
on  the  subject.  I  admire  his  magnanimity ;  I  approve  his  reasoning, 
and  I  wait  to  hear  him  reject  with  indignation  the  murderous  proposi- 
tion, and  to  see  him  spurn  from  his  presence  the  presumptuous  bearer 
of  it. 

But  I  wait  in  vain.  It  was  a  moment  in  which  his  great  wisdom  for- 
sook him ;  a  moment  in  which  Hamiltoj^  was  not  himself.  He  yielded 
to  the  force  of  an  imperious  custom  ;  and  yielding,  he  sacrificed  a  life  in 
which  all  had  an  interest ;  and  he  is  lost — lost  to  his  country — lost  to 
his  family — lost  to  us !  For  this  act,  because  he  disclaimed  it,  and  was 
penitent,  I  forgive  him.  But  there  are  those  whom  I  can  not  forgive. 
I  mean  not  his  antagonist,  over  whose  erring  steps,  if  there  be  tears  in 
heaven,  a  pious  mother  looks  down  and  weejjs.  If  he  be  capable  of  feel- 
ing, he  suifers  already  all  that  humanity' can  sufier.  Suffers,  and  where- 
ever  he  may  fly  will  suffer  with  the  poignant  recollection  of  having 
taken  the  life  of  one  who  was  too  magnanimous  in  return  to  attempt  his 
own.  Had  he  have  known  this,  it  must  have  paralyzed  his  arm  while  it 
pointed,  at  so  incorruptible  a  bosom,  the  instrument  of  death.  Does  he 
know  this  now,  his  heart,  if  it  be  not  adamant,  must  soften — if  it  be  not 
ice,  it  must  melt. 

But  on  this  article  I  forbear.  Stained  with  blood  as  he  is,  if  he  be 
penitent,  I  foi-give  him  ;  and  if  he  be  not,  before  these  altars,  where  all 
of  us  appear  as  suppliants,  I  wish  not  to  excite  your  vengeance,  but 
rather,  in  behalf  of  an  object  rendered  wretched  and  pitiable  by  crime, 
to  wake  your  prayers. 

But  I  have  said,  and  I  repeat  it,  there  are  those  whom  I  can  not  for- 
give. I  can  not  forgive  that  minister  at  the  altar,  who  has  hitherto  for- 
borne to  remonstrate  on  this  subject.  I  can  not  forgive  that  public 
prosecutor,  who,  intrusted  with  the  duty  of  avenging  his  country's 
wrongs,  has  seen  those  wrongs,  and  taken  no  measures  to  avenge  them. 
I  can  not  forgive  that  judge  upon  the  bench,  or  that  governor  m  the 
chair  of  State,  who  has  lightly  passed  over  such  offerses.  I  can  not  for- 
give the  public,  in  whose  oijinion  the  duelist  finds  a  sanctuary.  I  can 
not  forgive  you,  my  brethren,  who,  till  this  late  hour,  have  been  silent, 
while  successive  murders  Avere  committed.  No,  I  can  not  forgive  you, 
that  you  have  not,  in  common  with  the  freemen  of  this  State,  raised  youi 


•THE    FALL    OF     HAMILTON.  SS9 

voice  to  the  poicers  that  be,  and  loudly  and  explicitly  demanded  an  exe- 
cution of  your  laws.  Demanded  this  in  a  manner,  whicli  if  it  did  not 
reach  the  ear  of  government,  would  at  least  have  reached  the  heavens, 
and  plead  your  excuse  before  the  Gon  that  filled  them.  In  whose  pres- 
ence, as  I  stand,  I  should  not  feel  myself  innocent  of  the  blood  which 
crieth  agahist  iis,  had  I  been  silent.  But  I  have  not  been  silent.  Many 
of  you  who  hear  me  are  my  witnesses — the  walls  of  yonder  temple, 
where  I  have  heretofore  addressed  you,  are  my  witnesses,  how  freely  1 
have  animadverted  on  this  subject,  in  the  presence  both  of  those  Avho 
have  violated  the  Lim's,  and  of  those  whose  indispensable  duty  it  is  to 
see  the  laws  executed  on  those  who  violate  them. 

I  enjoy  another  opportunity;  and  would  to  God  I  might  be  permitted 
to  approach  for  once  the  late  scene  of  death.  Would  to  God,  I  could 
there  assemble,  on  the  one  side,  the  disconsolate  motlier  Math  her  seven 
fatherless  children,  and  on  the  other  those  who  administer  the  justice  of 
my  country.  Could  I  do  this,  I  would  point  them  to  these  sad  objects. 
I  would  intreat  them,  by,the  agonies  of  bei-eaved  fondness,  to  listen  to 
the  widow's  heartfelt  groans ;  to  mark  the  orphans'  sighs  and  tears. 
And  having  done  this,  I  would  uncover  the  breathless  corpse  of  Hamil- 
ton— I  would  lift  from  his  gaping  wound  his  bloody  mantle — I  Avould 
hold  it  up  to  heaven  before  them,  and  I  would  ask,  in  the  name  of  God, 
I  would  ask,  whether  at  the  sight  of  it  they  felt  no  compunction. 

You  will  ask,  perhaps,  what  can  be  done  to  arrest  the  progress  of  a  prac- 
tice which  has  yet  so  many  advocates  ?  I  answer,  nothing — if  it  be  the 
deliberate  intention  to  do  nothing.  But  if  otherwise,  much  is  within 
our  power.  Let,  then,  the  governor  see  that  the  laws  are  executed — let 
the  council  displace  the  man  who  offends  against  their  majesty.  Let 
courts  of  justice  frown  from  their  bar,  as  unworthy  to  appear  befoi*e 
them,  the  murderer  and  his  accomplices.  Let  the  people  declare  him 
unworthy  of  their  confidence  who  engages  in  such  sanguinary  contests. 
Let  this  be  done ;  and  should  life  still  be  taken  in  single  combat,  then 
the  governor,  the  council,  the  court,  the  people,  looking  up  to  the 
Avenger  of  sin,  may  say,  "  we  are  innocent — we  are  innocent."  Do  you 
ask  how  proof  can  be  obtained  ?  How  can  it  be  avoided  ?  The  parties 
return,  hold  up  before  our  eyes  the  instruments  of  death,  publish  to  the 
woild  the  circumstances  of  their  interview,  and  even,  with  an  air  of  in- 
sulting triumph,  boast  how  coolly  and  how  deliberately  they  proceeded 
in  violating  one  of  the  most  sacred  laws  of  earth  and  heaven. 

Ah,  ye  tragic  shores  of  Hoboken  !  crimsoned  with  the  richest  blood, 
I  tremble  at  the  ci'imes  you  record  against  us — the  annual  register  of 
murders  which  you  keep  and  send  up  to  God!  Place  of  inhuman 
cruelty!  beyond  the  limits  of  reason,  of  duty,  and  of  religion,  where 
man  assumes  a  more  barbarous  nature,  and  ceases  to  be  man.  What 
poignant,  lingering  sorrows  do  thy  lawless  combats  occasion  to  surviving 
relatives.     Ye  wl  o  have  hearts  of  iiity — ye  who  have  experienced  the 


390  ELIPIIALET     Is^OTl. 

anguish  of  dissolving  friendship — who  have  Avei^t,  and  still  weep,  ovtii 
the  moldering  ruins  of  departed  kindred,  ye  can  enter  into  this  reflec 
tioi:. 

O,  thou  disconsolate  widoM  !  robbed,  so  cruelly  robbed,  and  in  so 
short  a  time,  both  of  a  husband  and  a  son,  what  must  be  the  plenitude 
of  thy  suiferings !  Could  we  approach  thee,  gladly  Avould  we  drop  the 
tear  of  sympathy,  and  pour  into  thy  bleeding  bosom  the  balm  of  conso- 
lation. But  how  could  we  comfort  her  whom  God  hath  not  comforted ! 
To  his  throne,  let  us  lift  up  our  voice  and  weep,  O,  God !  if  thou  art 
still  the  widow's  husband,  and  the  father  of  the  fatherless — if  in  the 
fuUness  of  thy  goodness  there  be  yet  mercies  in  store  for  miserable  mor- 
tals, pity,  O  pity  this  afflicted  mother,  and  grant  that  her  hapless  orj^hans 
may  find  a  fi-iend,  a  benefactor,  a  father  in  Thee  ! 

Oji  this  article  I  have  done  :  and  may  God  add  his  blessing.  But  I 
have  still  a  claim  upon  your  patience.  I  can  not  here  rejiress  my  feel- 
ings, and  thus  let  pass  the  present  opportunity. 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen!  And  regardless  as  we  are  of  vulgar  deaths, 
shall  not  the  fall  of  the  mighty  affect  us  ?  A  short  time  since,  and  he  who 
is  the  occasion  of  our  soi-rows,  was  the  ornament  of  his  country.  He 
stood  on  an  eminence  ;  and  glory  covered  him.  From  that  eminence  he 
has  flxllen — suddenly,  forever  fallen.  His  intercourse  with  the  living 
world  is  now  ended  ;  and  those  who  would  hereafter  find  him  must  seek 
him  in  the  grave.  There,  cold  and  lifeless,  is  the  heart  which  just  now 
was  the  seat  of  friendship.  There,  dim  and  sightless,  is  the  eye,  whose 
radiant  and  enlivening  orb  beamed  with  intelligence  ;  and  there,  closed 
forever,  are  those  lips  on  whose  persuasive  accents  we  have  so  often  and 
so  lately  hung  with  transport. 

From  the  darkness  which  rests  upon  his  tomb  there  proceeds,  me- 
thinks,  a  light  in  which  it  is  clearly  seen  that  those  gaudy  objects  which 
men  pursue  are  only  phantoms.  In  this  light  how  dimly  shines  the 
splendor  of  victory — how  humble  ap2:)cars  the  majesty  of  grandeur. 
The  bubble  which  seemed  to  have  so  much  solidity  has  burst ;  and  we 
again  see  that  all  below  the  sun  is  vanity.  True,  the  funeral  eulogy  has 
been  pronounced.  The  sad  and  solemn  procession  has  moved.  The 
badge  of  mourning  has  already  been  decreed,  and  presently  the  sculp- 
tured marble  will  lift  up  its  front,  proud  to  perpetuate  the  name  of 
Hajiilton,  and  rehearse  to  the  passing  traveler  his  virtues.  Just  attri- 
butes of  respect !  And  to  the  living  useful.  But  to  him,  moldering  in 
his  narrow  and  humble  habitation,  what  are  they  ?  How  vain !  how 
unavailing. 

Approach  and  behold — while  I  lift  from  his  sepulcher  its  covering. 
Ye  admirers  of  his  greatness,  ye  emulous  of  his  talents  and  his  fame, 
approach,  and  behold  him  now.  How  pale  !  How  silent !  No  martial 
bands  admire  the  adroitness  of  his  movements.  No  fascinating  throng 
weep,  and  melt,  and  tremble  at  his  eloquence.     Amazing  change  !     A 


THE    FALL     OF    HAMILTON.  39I 

shrourl !  a  coffin  !  a  nan-ow  subterraneous  cabin !  This  is  all  that  now 
remains  of  Hamilton  !  And  is  this  all  tliat  remains  of  iiiii  ?  During 
a  life  so  transitoiy,  what  lasting  monument,  then,  can  our  fondest  hopes 
erect  ? 

My  brethren,  we  stand  on  the  borders  of  an  awful  gulf,  which  is 
swallowing  up  all  things  human.  And  is  there,  amid  this  universal 
wreck,  nothing  stable,  nothing  abiding,  nothing  immortal,  on  which  poor, 
frail,  dying  man  can  fasten  ?  Ask  the  hero,  ask  the  statesman,  whose 
wisdom  you  have  been  accustomed  to  revere,  and  he  will  tell  you.  He 
will  tell  you,  did  I  say  ?  He  has  already  told  you,  from  his  death-bed, 
and  his  illumined  spirit  still  wliispers  from  the  heavens,  with  well-known 
eloquence,  the  solemn  admonition,  "  Moilals,  hastening  to  the  tomb,  and 
once  the  companions  of  my  pilgrimage,  take  warning,  and  avoid  my 
errors.  Cultivate  the  virtues  I  have  recommended.  Choose  the  Saviour 
I  have  chosen.  Live  disinterestedly.  Live  foi"  immortality  ;  and  would 
you  rescue  any  thing  from  final  dissolution,  lay  it  up  in  God." 

Thus  speaks,  methinks,  our  deceased  benefactor ;  and  thus  he  acted 
during  his  last  sad  hours.  To  the  exclusion  of  every  other  concern, 
religion  now  claims  all  his  thoughts.  Jesus  !  Jesus  is  now  his  only 
hope.  The  friends  of  Jesus  are  his  friends.  The  ministers  of  the  altar 
his  companions.  While  these  intercede  he  listens  in  awful  silence,  or  in 
profound  submission  whispers  his  assent.  Sensible,  deejily  sensible  of 
his  sins,  he  pleads  no  merit  of  his  own.  He  repairs  to  the  mercy-seat, 
and  there  pours  out  his  penitential  sorrows — there  he  solicits  pardon. 
Heaven,  it  should  seem,  heard  ard  pitied  the  suppliant's  cries.  Disbur- 
dened of  his  sorrows,  and  looking  up  to  God,  he  exclaims,  "  Grace,  rich 
grace  !"  "  I  have,"  said  he,  clasping  his  dying  hands,  and  with  a  falter- 
ing tongue,  "  I  HAVE  A  tender  keliance  on  the  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ."  In  token  of  this  reliance,  and  as  an  expression  of  his  faith,  he 
receives  the  holy  sacrament.  And  having  done  this,  his  mind  becomes 
tranquil  and  serene.  Thus  he  remains,  thoughtful  indeed,  but  unruffled 
to  the  last,  and  meets  death  wdtli  an  air  of  dignified  composure,  and 
uith  an  eye  directed  to  the  heavens. 

This  last  act,  more  than  any  other,  sheds  glory  on  his  character. 
Every  thing  else  death  effaces.  Religion  alone  abides  with  him  on  his 
death-bed.  He  dies  a  Chiistian.  This  is  all  which  can  be  enrolled  of 
hun  among  the  arcliives  of  eternity.  This  is  all  tliat  can  make  his  name 
great  in  heaven.  Let  not  the  sneering  infidel  persuade  you  that  this 
last  act  of  homage  to  the  Saviour  resulted  from  an  enfeebled  state  of 
mental  faculties,  or  from  perturbation  occasioned  by  the  near  ap])roach 
of  death.  No ;  his  opinions  concerning  the  divine  mission  of  Jesus 
Christ,  and  the  validity  of  the  holy  Scriptures,  had  long  been  scttlevl, 
and  settled  after  laborious  investigation  and  extensive  and  deep  research. 
These  opinions  were  not  concealed.  I  know  them  myself  Some  of  you 
who  hear  inc  knew  them.     And  had  his  liJ'e  been  spared,  it  was  his  de- 


392  ELIPHALET    NOTT. 

termination  to  have  piiLlished  them  to  tlie  world,  together  with  the 
facts  and  reasons  on  which  they  wwe  founded. 

At  a  time  when  skepticism,  shallt  w  and  superficial  indeed,  but  de 
praved  and  malignant,  is  breathing  forth  its  pestilential  vapor,  and  j  Di- 
luting, by  its  unhallowed  touch,  every  thing  divine  and  sacred,  it  is 
consoling  to  a  devout  mind  to  reflect  that  the  great,  and  the  M'ise,  and 
the  good  of  all  ages — those  superior  geniuses,  Avhose  splendid  talenta 
have  elevated  them  almost  above  mortality,  and  placed  them  next  in 
order  to  angelic  natures ;  yes,  ifc  is  consoling  to  a  devout  mind  to  I'eflect, 
that  while  dwarfish  infidelity  lifts  up  its  deformed  head,  and  mocks  these 
ILLUSTRIOUS  PERSONAGES,  though  living  in  different  ages,  inhabiting 
different  countries,  nurtured  in  different  schools,  destined  to  different 
l^ursuits,  and  differing  on  various  subjects,  should  all,  as  if  touched  with 
an  impulse  from  heaven,  agree  to  vindicate  the  sacredness  of  revelation, 
and  present,  with  one  accord,  tiieir  learning,  their  talents,  and  their  vir- 
tue, on  the  gospel  altar,  as  an  offering  to  Emanuel. 

This  is  not  exaggeration.  Who  was  it,  that,  overleaping  the  narrow 
bounds  which  had  hitherto  been  set  to  the  human  mind,  ranged  abroad 
through  the  immensity  of  space,  discovered  and  illustrated  those  laws 
by  which  the  Deity  unites,  binds,  an  1  governs  all  things  ?  Who  was  it, 
soaring  into  the  sublime  of  astronomic  science,  numbered  tlie  stars  ")f 
heaven,  measured  their  spheres,  and  called  them  by  their  names  ?  It 
was  Newton.  But  Newton  was  a  Christian.  Ne^viion,  great  as  he  was, 
received  instruction  from  the  lips,  and  laid  his  honors  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  Who  was  it  that  developed  the  hidden  combination,  the  com- 
ponent parts  of  bodies  ?  Who  was  it  that  dissected  the  animal,  exam- 
ined the  flower,  penetrated  the  earth,  and  ranged  the  extent  of  organic 
nature?  It  was  Boyle,  But  Boyle  Avas  a  Christian,  Who  was  it  that 
lifted  the  vail  which  had  for  ages  covered  the  intellectual  world,  ana- 
lyzed the  human  mind,  defined  its  powers,  and  reduced  its  operations  to 
certain  fixed  laws  ?     It  was  Locke,     But  Locke,  too,  was  a  Christian, 

What  more  shall  I  say  ?  For  time  would  fiiil  me  to  speak  of  Hale, 
learned  in  the  law ;  of  Addison,  admired  in  the  schools ;  of  Milton, 
celebrated  among  the  poets  ;  and  of  Washington,  immortal  in  the  field 
and  in  the  cabinet.  To  this  catalogue  of  professing  Christians,  from 
among,  if  I  may  speak  so,  a  higher  order  of  beings,  may  now  be  added 
the  name  of  Alexander  Hamilton — a  name  which  raises  in  the  mind 
the  idea  of  whatever  is  great,  whatever  is  splendid,  Avhatever  is  illus- 
trious in  human  nature ;  and  which  is  now  added  to  a  catalogue  which 
might  be  lengthened — and  lengthened — and  lengthened — with  the  names 
of  illustrious  characters,  whose  lives  have  blessed  society,  and  whose 
works  form  a  column  liigh  as  heaven — a  column  of  learning,  of  wisdom, 
and  of  greatness,  which  will  stand  to  future  ages,  an  eternal  monu- 
ment of  the  transcendent  talents  of  the  advocates  of  Christianity,  when 
every  fugitive  leaf  from  the  pen  of  the  canting  infidel  witlings  of  the 


THE     FALL     OF    HAMILTOIT.  393 

day,  shall  be  swept  by  the  tide  of  time  from  the  annals  of  tlie  world, 
and  buried  with  the  names  of  their  authors  in  oblivion. 

To  conclude.  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  !  Fallen  before  the  deso- 
lating hand  of  death.  Alas  !  the  ruins  of  the  tomb  !  *  *  *  The 
ruins  of  the  tomb  are  an  emblem  of  the  ruins  of  the  world !  AA'hen  not 
an  individual,  but  a  universe,  ah'eady  marred  by  sin,  and  hastening  to 
dissolution,  shall  agonize  and  die!  Du-ecting  your  thoughts  from  the 
one,  fix  them  for  a  moment  on  the  other.  Anticipate  the  concluding 
scene — the  final  catastrophe  of  nature.  When  the  sign  of  the  Son  of 
man  shall  be  seen  in  heaven.  When  the  Son  of  man  himself  shall  ap 
])ear  in  the  glory  of  his  Father,  and  send  forth  judgment  unto  victory. 
The  fiery  desolation  envelops  towns,  palaces,  and  fortresses.  The 
heavens  pass  away!  The  earth  melts!  And  all  those  magnificent  pro- 
ductions of  art,  Avhich  ages,  heaped  on  ages,  have  reared  up,  are  in  one 
awful  day  reduced  to  ashes  ! 

Against  the  ruins  of  that  day,  as  well  as  the  ruins  of  the  tomb  which 
precede  it,  the  gospel  in  the  cross  of  its  great  High  Priest,  offers  you  all 
a  sanctuary.  A  sanctuary  secure  and  abiding.  A  sanctuary  which  no  lapse 
of  time  nor  change  of  circumstances  can  destroy.  No  ;  neither  life  nor 
deatli ;  no,  neither  principalities  nor  powers.  Every  thing  else  is  fugitive ; 
every  thing  else  is  mutable  ;  every  thing  else  will  fail  you.  But  this,  the 
ciTADKi,  of  the  Christian's  hopes,  will  never  fail  you.  Its  base  is  adamant. 
It  is  cemented  with  the  richest  blood.  The  ransomed  of  the  Lord  crowd 
its  portals.  Embosomed  in  the  dust  which  it  incloses,  the  bodies  of  the 
ledeemed  "  i-est  in  hope."  On  its  top  dwells  the  church  of  the  first- 
born, who,  in  delightful  response  with  the  angels  of  light,  chant  redeem- 
ing love.  Against  this  citadel  the  tempest  beats,  and  around  it  the 
storm  ragCo  and  spends  its  force  in  vain.  Immortal  in  its  nature,  and 
incapable  of  change,  it  stands,  and  stands  firm  amid  the  ruins  of  a  mold- 
ering  world,  and  endures  forever.  Thither  fly,  ye  prisoners  of  hope ! 
that  when  earth,  air,  elements,  shall  have  passed  away,  secure  of  exist- 
ence and  felicity,  you  may  join  with  saints  in  glory  to  perpetuate  the 
song  Avhich  lingered  on  the  faltering  tongue  of  Haiviiltgn,  "  Grace, 
RICH  Grace." 

God  grant  us  this  honor.  Then  shall  the  measure  of  our  joy  be  full, 
and  to  his  name  shall  be  the  glory  in  Christ.     Amex. 


BISCOURSE    XXIX. 

JOHN    P.    DURBIN,    D.D. 

The  early  life  of  this  distinguished  Methodist  divine  was  spent  in  Kentucky,  in 
which  State  (Bourbou  county)  he  was  born,  the  son  of  a  farmer  in  humble  hfe,  Oc- 
tober 10th,  1800.  When  he  was  fourteen  years  of  age  he  became  an  apprentice  in 
a  cabinet  maker's  shop,  where  he  remained  three  years.  After  this  he  worked  one 
year  at  his  trade,  when,  having  within  this  time  been  brought  to  a  saving  knowl- 
edge of  Christ,  he  felt  a  holy  impulse  to  set  before  others  the  light  which  had  beamed 
upon  his  own  spirit.  He  almost  immediately  joined  the  Western  Conference,  and 
commenced  his  labors  as  a  pioneer  and  preacher  in  the  north-west  corner  of  Ohio, 
when  now  only  about  eighteen  years  of  age. 

Here  the  young  preacher  began  his  studies  in  the  cabins,  reading  generally  in  the 
winter  by  fire-light,  made  by  pine  knots  and  dry  wood.  His  principal  books  were 
Dr.  Clark's  Com.  on  Old  and  New  Test,  and  Wesley's  and  Fletcher's  works.  A 
year  after  this  he  was  sent  to  Indiana,  where  he  began  to  study  English  grammar, 
committing  rules  and  examples  to  memory  wliile  riding  on  horseback  to  his  appoint- 
ments. Toward  the  close  of  the  year  he  commenced  the  study  of  Latin  and  Greek. 
Being  afterward  stationed  in  Cincinnati,  he  was  admitted  to  the  Cincinnati  College, 
and  there  took  the  degree  of  A.  M. 

So  untiring  had  been  his  application  to  study,  and  such  his  success,  that  he 
was  almost  immediately  appointed  Professor  of  Languages  in  Augusta  College,  Ken- 
tucky. In  1831  he  was  elected  Chaplain  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  His 
sermons  in  the  Capitol  are  still  remembered  for  their  pungency  and  power.  In  1 832 
he  was  elected  Professor  of  Natural  Sciences  in  the  Wesleyan  University,  which  he 
resigned  upon  being  called,  soon  after,  to  the  editorial  chair  of  the  Christian  Advo- 
cate and  Journal.  In  1834,  without  being  consulted,  he  Avas  elected  President  of 
Dickinson  College,  from  which  he  retired  in  1845,  and  subsequently  preached  in 
and  arounil  Philadelphia.  In  1850  he  was  appointed  Missionary  Secretary,  in  the 
place  of  Dr.  Pitman,  who  resigned  on  account  of  ill  health,  a  position  which  he  sti!l 
holds  with  eminent  success. 

Dr.  Durbin  is  the  author  of  two  popular  works,  "  Observations  in  Europe,"  and 
"  Observations  in  the  East."  He  is  distinguished  both  as  a  preacher  and  an  execu- 
tive officer.  It  is  very  difficult  to  describe  his  preaching.  He  begins  Avith  a  tone, 
look,  and  style  which  would  at  once  damp  all  favorable  expectation,  if  you  did  not 
know  him  from  former  instances.  The  statement  of  his  subject,  and  the  nature  of 
his  discourse,  do  not  strike  you  usually  as  remarkable  ;  but  as  he  advances,  some 
unique  thought,  or  some  extraordinary  thought  uniquely  presented,  startles  your 
interest,  and  your  attention  is  riveted  through  the  remainder  of  the  sermon.     Three 


THE    OilNIPRESEXCE     OF     GOD.  g95 

peculiarities  are  represented  as  keeping  up  this  interest.  The  first  is  che  entire  self- 
possession  and  apparent  facihty  with  which  the  preacher  proceeds  in  the  discourse. 
We  know  of  no  one  who  excels  him  in  this  respect. 

You  are  delighted  with  the  relief  which  his  manner  thus  affords  to  his  voice  and 
to  the  effort  of  your  own  attention.  It  is  similar  to  pleasant,  artless,  but  intelligent 
conversation.  Another  is  the  frequent  recurrence  of  the  unique  passages  we  have 
referred  to — unique  often  by  their  beauty,  but  often,  also,  by  the  mere  manner  ot 
their  utterance,  yet  always  endowed  with  a  strange,  a  mystic  power  over  the  soul  of 
the  hearer,  calling  forth  spontaneous  ejaculations  or  sudden  tears.  The  third  is  a 
habit  he  has  of  introducing  into  almost  every  discourse  some  odd  and  equivocal 
speculative  suggestions.  This  is  considered  by  many  an  artifice,  designed  to 
interest  the  attention  of  the  audience  :  it  may  be ;  but  if  so,  it  is  not  without  high 
sanction. 

"  We  have  no  hesitancy,"  says  Dr.  Stevens,*  "  in  pronouncing  Dr.  Durbin  the 
most  interesting  preacher  now  in  the  Methodist  pulpit.  We  gave  Di-.  Olin  this  dis- 
tinction once,  but  it  remains  now  with  Durbin.  Others  there  are  who  excel  him  in 
particular  respects,  but  not  that  equal  him  either  in  popular  effect  or  in  the  interest 
of  intelligent,  thoughtful  minds.  His  sermons  are  usually  long,  but  no  one  tires 
with  them,  no  one  hears  the  last  sentence  without  regret,  nor  leaves  the  church 
without  a  vivid,  if  not  a  profound,  impression  of  the  discourse.  His  language  is  re- 
markably simple.  He  excels  in  illustration,  in  picturesque  description,  and  in 
pathos." 

It  is  with  great  pleasure  that  we  insert  the  valuable  and  eloquent  discourse,  never 
before  printed,  which  Dr.  Durbin  has  kindly  furnished  for  this  work. 


THE     OMNIPRESENCE     OF    GOD. 

"But  will  God  in  very  deed  dwell  vsrith  men  on  the  earth?  Behold,  heaven  and  the 
neaven  of  licavcns  can  not  contain  thee ;  how  much  less  this  house  which  I  have  built." — 
2  CuRON.,  vi.  18. 

A  CONSIDERATION  of  the  character  and  condition  of  the  author  of  the 
text,  will  show  clearly  that  the  highest  degrees  o'i  vital  piety  are  perfectly 
consistent  with  the  most  consummate  toisdom,  gran(lern\  and  2'>ower. 
The  words  of  the  text  are  the  words  of  Solomon,  King  of  Israel,  and  the 
grand  successor  of  the  illustrious  David,  son  of  Jesse,  A  consideration 
of  the  chapter  will  convince  us  that  his  lieart  was  fired  with  the  liveliest 
devotion,  of  the  most  rational  and  exalted  khid.  It  is  tlie  dedication  serv- 
ice of  the  celebrated  temple  at  Jerusalem,  and  was  performed  by  the 
king  himself"  in  the  midst  of  the  thousands  of  Israel,  being  -sprayer  which 
he  pronounced  in  the  attitude  of  kneeling,  on  a  slightly  elevated  stage 
in  the  midst  6f  the  temple.  The  character  and  condition  of  the  author, 
in  regard  to  worldly  wisdom,  grandeur,  and  power,  are  too  Avell  known 

*  Article  in  "  National  Magazine,"  Vol.  VI.,  to  which  we  are  indebted  in  the  preparation 
of  this  sketch, 


39G  J.    P.    DURBIN. 

to  require  sj^ecial  notice  in  detail.  As  it  regards  his  wisdom,  it  has 
passed  into  v^  proverb  in  all  nations.  "As  wise  as  Solomon,"  is  an  adage 
pronounced  by  every  tongue,  Avhen  it  would  express  the  highest  attain- 
ments in  wisdom.  As  it  regards  his  grandeur^  the  account  of  it,  as 
detailed  in  the  Scriptures,  almost  exceeds,  and,  indeed,  would  exceed, 
belief,  did  w^e  not  know  their  rigid  integrity  in  stating  the  truth.  His 
power,  of  course,  must  be  considered,  in  this  age,  relatively ;  and  although 
we  can  not  rank  his  kingdom  with  the  great  empires  and  kingdoms  of 
modern  days,  we  can,  with  propriety,  pronotince  it  the  first  in  his  own 
age,  and  not  so  much  inferior  to  modern  powers  as  we  might  imagine. 

These  observations  establish  the  proposition,  That  the  highest  degrees 
of  vitcd ^iety  are  perfectly  consistent  loith  the  most  consmninate  wisdom, 
grandeur  and  power. 

An  examination  of  the  character  of  this  extraordinary  man  in  another 
view,  will  produce  conviction  on  another  important  point,  viz..  That  no 
selection,  or  combination  of  any,  or  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world,  can 
'oermanently  satisfy  the  rational  spirit  of  man.  Solomon,  like  most  per- 
sons in  similar  circumstances,  was  well-nigh  ruined  by  being  brought  up 
in  luxury  and  ease,  and  succeeding  to  an  immense  amount  of  wealth  and 
power.  During  his  prodigality  (he  himself  has  left  it  on  record),  he 
indulged  in  every  species  of  pleasure  and  gratification  that  heart  could 
"wish,  or  a  licentious  and  excited  imagination  could  devise.  And  yet  he 
])ronounces  the  whole  "vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit,"  and  in  proof  of  his 
conviction  he  became  deeply  and  miformly  pious.  His  is  but  the  expe- 
rience,  on  a  broader  scale,  of  every  devotee  of  pleasure  ;  but  few  make 
so  happy  an  escape. 

By  a  close  examination  of  this  prayer,  it  Avill  be  clearly  seen  that  the 
whole  service  proceeds  on  the  supposition,  that  God  would  make  his 
abode  in  the  temple  built  for  him ;  fi-om  this  place  manifest  his  presence, 
and  listen  to  the  prayers  of  his  creatures.  The  subsequent  history  of  the 
Jews  proves  that  this  expectation  was  realized.  This  idea  was  not 
peculiar  to  the  Jews,  or  to  Solomon's  temple.  All  nations,  in  all  coun- 
tries, in  reference  to  all  religions  and  deities,  have  considered  their  houses 
of  worship  as  the  pectiliar  residence  of  their  gods,  and  have,  of  course, 
held  them  sacred;  and  required  a  corresponding  sanctity  in  the  utensils 
of  worship,  and  in  the  persons  and  deportment  of  the  worshipers,  while 
in  the  temple.  And  this  is  consistent  with  the  best  dictates  ef  reason 
and  utility,  and  should  be  strictly  observed  in  all  Christian  churches. 

Impressed  with  this  view,  Solomon  uttered  the  text,  which  is  a  paren- 
thetical exclamation  of  surprise,  hesitancy,  and  assurance  blended  and 
alternating.     From  it  we  niEV  leara, 

I.  The  strong  inclination  in  the  human  heart  to  exclude  the  p>resence 
and  superb  deiidency  of  the  Divine  Being  from  the  tcorld  and  the  ajf'airs 
of  men. 


THE     OMNIPRESENCE     OF     GOD.  397 

The  evidences  of  tliis  inclination  arc  found  in  every  portion  of  our 
lives.     But  we  shall  notice  only  two. 

1.  Our  conduct.  Because  we  lay  our  plans,  and  execute  them,  witlv 
out  any  reference  to  God.  In  forming  a  scheme  of  wealth,  ease,  or 
honor,  how  few  have  any  respect  to  the  approbation  of  the  Divine 
Being !  Or  in  executing  our  plans,  even  when  they  are  virtuous,  h<>\v 
few  look  for  success  to  the  blessings  of  heaven  ! 

2.  We  call  not  071  God  in  prayer.  If  we  did  believe  in  the  actual, 
and  i^ersonal  presence  of  God,  and  his  continual  agency  in  human  aftairs, 
it  would  be  the  clearest  dictate  of  reason  to  make  known  our  requests 
to  him  in  prayer,  in  order  to  obtain  his  favor.  Of  course  we  should  lay 
l)lans,  and  execute  them,  only  when  and  in  the  manner  he  a])proves. 
The  notorious  fact,  then,  that  men  generally  live  most  of  their  U\  es 
Avithout  the  habit  of  prayer,  establishes  the  conclusion,  that  we  are 
strongly  inclined.,  hy  nature.^  to  exclude  the  presence  atid  super intendency 
of  the  Divine  Being  from  the  u'orld  and  the  affairs  of  men. 

The  catises  of  this  inclination,  waiving  the  consideration  of  the  nati\  e 
enmity  of  the  human  heart  to  God,  are, 

I.  The  invisibility  of  the  Divine  Being.  Accustomed  to  think  only 
by  means  of  those  impressions  which  we  receive  through  our  bodily 
senses,  we  are  inclined  to  forget,  or  rather  are  almost  incompetent,  in 
our  natural  state,  to  conceive  clearly  of  the  omnipresence  of  God,  be- 
cause we  see  him  not.  Hence,  at  first,  we  ignorantly  and  involuntarily, 
and  afterward  habitually,  exclude  the  presence  of  the  Divine  Being  from 
the  world. 

•  2.  lite  imposition  of  our  senses  on  our  minds.  Accustomed  to  see 
eflect  follow  cause  when  we  act,  we  conclude  ourselves  the  7'emotest  and 
only  agents.  And  observing  that  the  effects  partake  of  the  complexion 
of  their  causes,  we  suppose  there  is  something  like  an  unalterable  con- 
nection and  dependence  between  them.  Hence,  following  imjilicitly  the 
dictates  of  our  bodily  senses,  we,  as  Paul  says,  "walk  after  the  flesh," 
forgetting  the  power  that  established,  sustains,  and  controls  the  con- 
nection between  cause  and  effect.  Thus  loe  exclude  the  super  intendency 
of  the  Divine  Being  from  the  affairs  of  men. 
From  the  text  we  learn, 

II.  The  infinite  goodness  of  God  i7i  condescending  to  dwell  "  in  very 
deed  on  the  earth  among  men^''  and  in  superintending  their  affairs. 

But  in  what  sense  may  God  be  said  to  dwell  on  the  earth  ? 

1.  Some  suppose  the  Divine  Being  present  only  hy  the  regular  opera- 
tions of  the  laws  of  nature  ;  by  an  inherent  energy  with  which  he  has 
impressed  matter.  This  opinion,  when  more  fully  developed,  is  thi.s  : — 
tlie  Divine  Being,  havhig  created  and  organized  the  world,  gave  to  all 
its  parts  and  relations  life  and  motion,  by  causing  the  Spirit  to  brood 
over  it,  as  it  were,  by  incubation.     That  these,  life  and  motion,  were  thus 


oCfft,  J.    p.    DURBIN. 

rendered  equal  in  duration  with  the  world,  or  matter;  and  operate 
without  reduction  or  increase  of  force,  or  derangement  of  tendency. 
Thus  tlie  world,  abstractly,  may  be  considered  as  a  piece  of  mechanism^ 
and  with  the  addition  of  the  laws  of  nature,  a  piece  of  mechanism  in 
motion^  which  continues  until  the  action  is  either  spent  or  deranged, 
without  the  interference  of  the  Maker ;  yet  the  wisdom,  power,  and 
skill  of  the  Maker  may  be  said  to  be  present,  though  he  himself  be  far 
distant.  In  this  manner  some  reason  in  regard  to  the  Divine  Being, 
and  thus  exclude  him  from  the  world.  I  scarcely  need  proceed  to  show 
the  defects  of  this  hypothesis  of  the  presence  of  God  in  the  world.  I 
may  only  suggest,  first :  it  is  defective,  because  we  can  not  conceive  of 
energy  remaining  impressed,  and  active,  on  matter,  and  the  original 
source  of  that  energy  be  completely  separated,  and  remain  detached 
from  it.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  conceive  of  an  effect  continuing,  when 
the  cause  has  ceased.  Therefore,  as  the  impressed  energy,  constituting 
the  laws  of  nature,  was  the  effect  of  an  action  of  the  Divine  Being  (im- 
l^lying  his  contact  with,  and  operation  on,  every  particle  of  matter  re- 
ceiving the  energy),  this  action  having  ceased,  the  effect  must  have 
ceased  also.  But  this  is  contrary  to  the  experience  and  observation  of 
every  day.  Secondly:  this  hypothesis  is  defective,  when  compared 
V,  ith  the  nature  and  perfections  of  the  Divine  Being.  Eveiy  enlightened 
mind  conceives  of  God  as  possessing,  7iecessarily,  all  possible  perfections. 
Of  these  perfections,  omniscience  is  one.  But  omniscience  is  founded 
on  his  2^ersonal  omnipresence ,'  as  a  being  can  not  actually  know,  of  him- 
selfj  what  does  not  come  within  his  own  personal  observation.  Conse- 
quently, if  the  Divine  Being  were  not  personally  present,  he  could  not 
know  of  an  absent  transaction,  or  a  distant  operation  of  the  laws  of 
nature,  except  by  information  derived  from  another ;  and  if  there  were 
such  information  thus  obtained,  he  would  then  be  dependent  on  the 
being  who  gave  it,  for  his  knowledge  of  the  event ;  Avhich  dependence 
destroys  the  idea  of  the  perfections  of  the  Divine  Being.  And,  in  the 
possible  event,  that  there  were  no  being  present  to  obtain  the  informa- 
tion by  observation,  the  Divine  Being  might  never  be  conscious  of  such 
an  action,  or  event ;  and  thus  it  would  appear  that  the  knowledge  of 
God  might  be  hmited,  .and,  of  course,  the  whole  series  of  events  might, 
in  all  and  each  of  their  parts,  be  but  imperfectly  known  to  him.  Thus 
we  see,  that  the  hypothesis  of  God  being  present  only  hy  the  regular 
operations  of  the  laws  of  nature,  is  at  variance  with  the  nature  and  per- 
fections of  God. 

2.  Some  suppose  that  the  laws  of  nature  are,  in  fact,  only  the  con- 
tinual exercise  of  his  energy,  through  all  parts  of  the  universe;  and  thus 
understand  the  omnipresence  of  God  to  be  the  continual  presence  of  his 
energy,  giving  life,  action,  and  direction  to  all  things  ichich  exist. 

This  liypothesis  differs  but  little  from  the  foregoing.  The  principal 
diUl'rence  is  this :  it  admits  a  modified  connection  between  the  Divine 


THE     OMNIPRESEN.E     OF     GOD.  399 

Being  and  the  world.  It  supposes  that  he,  from  the  place  of  his  proper 
abode,  exerts  a  continual  influence  on  physical  and  moral  existences; 
but  does  not  suppose  his  actual  personal  presence.  It  is  liable  to  most 
of  the  objections  which  may  be  urged  against  the  preceding  opinion. 
And,  in  addition,  it  is  liable  to  another  serious  objection,  to  wit :  it 
limits  the  abode,  and  confines  the  personal  presence  of  the  Divine  Being ; 
and  thus  dej^rives  him  of  \\\%  personal  immensity  ;  and  this  deprivation 
destroys  the  idea  of  a  perfect  divinity.  Moreover,  as  this  hypothesis 
attaches  the  idea  of  locality  to  the  Almighty,  it  must,  of  course,  attacli 
the  idea  oi  distance,  in  regard  to  the  objects  on  which  he  operates  by 
liis  energy.  And  as  we  can  not  conceive  of  any  power  operating  that 
is  not  afiected  by  the  distance  or  space,  through  which  it  operates  (that 
is,  increasing  as  the  distance  or  space  decreases,  and  decreasing  in  the 
same  proportion,  as  the  distance  or  space  increases),  so  we  may  not  only 
conceive  the  distance  or  space  between  an  object  and  the  source  from 
whence  the  operating  energy  emanates,  to  be  so  great  as  to  modify  the 
force  of  the  energy,  but  even  to  be  removed  beyond  it ;  and  thus  place 
bounds  to  the  exercise  of  the  Almighty's  power,  and,  of  course,  deprive 
him  of  his  omnipresence,  which  would  destroy  the  proper  idea  of  God. 

3.  "Without  denying  the  existence  of  the  laws  of  nature  ;  or  objecting 
to  the  opinion  of  those  (on  this  point)  who  suppose  that  the  laws  of 
nature  are  the  continual  and  imiversal  exertion  of  the  divine  energy, 
Ihe  true  idea  of  the  omnipresence  of  God  may  be  comjjleted,  by  adding 
to  these  laws,  or  this  energy,  the  personal,  imiversal,  and  continiml 
presence  of  the  Ahmyhty,  as  a  perfect  and  intelliyent  Beiny,  in  all 
possible  places  or  spaces  at  the  same  time.  It  should  be  distinctly  un- 
derstood, that  the  Almighty  is  not  present,  in  all  possible  places  or 
spaces,  ever}*  moment  of  time,  by  a  diffusion  of  his  essence ;  for  this 
would  imply  divisibility ;  which  is  inconsistent  with  the  chaiacter  of 
God  ;  but  his  essence,  or  substance,  that  is  to  say,  himself  as  he  is,  is  in 
every  possible  place  or  space,  every  moment,  precisely  as  if  he  were  in 
but  one  place  or  space ;  and  he  is  in  any  one  place  or  space  j^recisely  as 
if  he  were  in  no  other.  Thus  is  he  in  hell  as  truly  as  hi  heaven:  and  in 
the  earth,  and  in  the  jilanets,  and  fixed  stars,  and  all  the  worlds,  as  in 
this  world  ;  and  if  there  be  empty  space,  where  there  is  no  created  ex 
istcnce  under  any  modification  whatever,  still  God  is  there,  as  he  i* 
amid  the  glories  of  heaven. 

With  this  view  of  the  omnipresence  of  God,  the  existence  and  phe- 
nomena of  all  worlds,  and  systems  of  worlds,  may  be  satisfiictorily  ex- 
jilained.  Conceiving  rightly  of  the  character  and  jjerfections  of  the 
Divine  Being,  we  find  him  competent  to  all,  so  soon  as  we  conceive  him 
everywhere  present,  personally,  and  perfectly  as  a  Being.  Looking 
through  all  orders,  classes,  genei'a,  and  species  of  existences,  oj^erations, 
and  actions,  they  are  perfectly  iiitelligible  when  referred  to  the  con- 
tinual presence  of  the   Almiglity.     Are  starry  worlds   seen  existing  in 


400  J-    !*•    DURBIN. 

different  parts  of  the  heavens  ?  God  is  there,  sustaining  their  existence 
Is  a  Uttle  microscopic  insect  seen  in  the  dust,  or  in  the  down  of  a  peach, 
or  in  a  drop  of  water  ?  God  is  there,  sustaining  its  existence.  Are 
planetary  workis  seen  revolving  in  their  orhits  harmoniously  and 
steadily  ?  God  is  in  each,  giving  it  motion  and  direction.  Do  the  tides 
of  the  oceans  act  perpetually,  and  periodically  ?  God  is  in  them,  to 
give  their  impulses,  and  to  assign  their  times  and  bounds.  Do  we  see 
the  principle  of  vitality  active  in  every  substance — in  earth,  aii-,  water, 
lire — and  under  every  modification  of  form,  size,  density,  color,  celerity, 
direction,  and  force  of  motion  ?  God  is  present  to  give  efficiency  and 
direction  to  this  principle  of  vitality.  Do  we  look  into  the  mineral 
world,  and  observe  an  internal  action  continually  kept  up  among  the  in- 
tegrant particles  of  bodies,  operating  according  to  the  laws  of  crystalliza- 
tion, and  thus  producing  the  most  beautiful  objects,  and  in  an  innum- 
erable variety  of  primary  and  secondary  forms  ?  God  is  present  to  give, 
and  keep  up,  the  energy  and  direction  of  each  operation,  on  each  sep- 
erate  particle.  Do  we  examine  the  vegetable  world,  and  see  the  un- 
numbered kinds  and  species,  from  the  hugest  tree,  descending  to  the 
microscopic  blade,  stamina,  or  even  vegetative  dust  of  flowers — do  we 
see  them  assuming  all  possible  forms,  and  varieties  of  colors,  and  emit- 
ting all  conceivable  odoi's,  from  the  most  oflensive  to  the  most  agree- 
able ;  do  we  look  into  the  prmciple.  machinery,  and  process  of  vegetable 
llfC;  and  see  all  the  tubes  and  juices,  having  regular  forms,  dimensions, 
and  directions  aid  definite  qualities,  as  taste,  smell,  color,  acidity, 
sweetness,  density,  etc. — astonished  at  the  action,  and  results,  we  imagine 
(and  possibly  correctly)  that  vegetables,  like  animals,  must  have  a  heart, 
veins,  arteries,  nerves,  digestive  and  productive  organs,  etc. 

And  when  we  see  all  these  principles  and  organs  opei'ating,  toiling, 
and  laboring  in  the  swelling  bud,  striving  for  birth,  then  blooming, 
fading,  decaying,  and  again  appearing  in  the  following  sj^ring,  Avith  all 
the  energies  and  principles  we  have  seen  apparently  terminate  in  decay — 
when  we  see  all  this  system  of  vegetable  life  operating  for  thousands  of 
years,  without  derangement  of  tendency,  season,  or  use,  or  reduction  of 
force — what  solution  of  this  series  of  wonders  can  be  given?  The  doc- 
trine of  the  text  gives  a  satisfactory  answer.  God  is  present,  to  do,  of 
himself,  all  these  wondrous  things  ;  and  men,  seeing  the  effects,  and  not 
the  cause,  say.  These  are  the  operations  of  the  laics  of  nature  ;  when 
they  are,  in  truth,  the  works  of  a  present  Deity.  Yes,  the  great  and 
universal  Operator  is  personally  present,  performing  his  wonders,  in  the 
hand  of  a  little  child,  when  it  holds  a  swelling  rose-bud  in  the  act  of 
bursting  into  bloom.  How' near  does  this  bring  God  to  us!  Not  only 
does  it  compel  us  to  admit  that  he  is  everywhere,  but  that  he  is  every 
where  at  the  same  time,  operating,  directing,  superintending,  and  observ- 
ing all  things.     '^Ve  are  constrained  to  say  : 


THE     OMNIPRESENCE     OF     GOD.  401 

"  These,  as  they  change,  almighty  Father,  these 
Are  but  tlio  varied  God.     The  rolling  year 
Is  full  of  thee." 

Or,  with  a  still  more  extensive  and  appropriate  view,  he 

"  "Warms  in  the  sun,  refreshes  in  the  breeze, 
Glows  in  the  stars,  blossoms  in  the  trees ; 
Lives  through  all  life,  extends  through  aU  extent, 
Spreads  undivided,  operates  unspent." 

It  is  to  be  supposed  that  the  foregoing  reflections  on  the  inferior  ex- 
istences and  phenomena  of  nature,  have  produced,  a  permanent  and 
efficient  conviction  oi perpetually-present  Deity.  What,  then,  would  w^e 
feel,  were  we  to  ascend  into  the  superior  orders  and  classes  of  animal  and 
intellectual  existences  and  phenomena  ?  Here  we  acknowledge  our 
incompetency,  in  common  with  all  who  have  appi-oached  the  subject. 
The  celebrated  Galen  is  said  to  have  fallen  on  his  knees,  in  wondrous 
astonishment  and  .adoration,  upon  contemplating  the  wisdom,  power, 
and  goodness  displayed  in  forming  a  human  body.  What,  then,  must 
be  the  emotions  of  an  enlightened  intellect,  when  it  ascends  into  the 
regions  of  tlie  principles,  materials,  and  machinery  of  thought^  and 
examines  its  powers  and  action  ?  Mute  and  motionless  with  aston- 
ishment, wonder,  and  delight,  he  contemplates  the  opei-ations  of  mind, 
while  it  analyzes  intricate  and  complex  matters,  and  combines  the 
simple  elements  of  whole  theories,  or  ranges  of  thought,  marking  the 
development  to  conviction  and  demonstration ;  until  the  observing  intel- 
lect itself  becomes  joyously  conscious  of  a  similar  existence,  and  of  sim- 
ilar powers,  from  feeling  the  same  operations  and  faculties  active  in 
himself  His  thoughts  immediately  rush  upon  his  own  heart,  and  with 
them  comes  the  full  and  clear  conviction,  that  the  power  and  wisdom  of 
God  only  coidd  have  formed  such  a  thing  as  Intellect  ;  and  that  his 
perpetual  personal  presence  and  agency  only  are  comptetent  to  heep  up 
perpetual  intellectual  action.  Awful  thought !  How,  then,  can  the 
mind  resist  the  conviction,  that  God  is  not  only  present  with  each  per- 
son, but  actually  in  possession  of  his  heart,  his  mind,  his  thoughts — nay, 
the  very  springs  and  materials  of  his  thoughts,  or  even  the  indefinite, 
and  almost  indetectable  emotions  of  his  mind ! 

Such  is  the  true  doctrine  of  the  omnipresence  of  Jehovah.  Let  us, 
ihen,  proceed  to  inquire  how  men  should  be  affected  by  this  doctrine. 

In  the^rs^  place,  they  should  he  resigned  to  the  dispensations  of  divine 
jyrovidence  in  the  tcorld,  lohethcr  they  regard  a  captive  or  a  king.,  an 
insect  or  an  empire. 

This  doctrine  of  resignation  to  all  the  dispensations  of  God's  provi- 
dence and  will,  is  a  pleasing  part  of  the  Christian's  creed,  and  is  founded 
on  this  plain  deduction  from  his  onmipresence,  ^^z. :   That  God  attends 


402  J-    P-    DURBIN. 

2}ersonally  to  every  hulividual  creature  and  its  concerns^  as  perfectly  as 
if  there  were  no  other  creature  ;  that  he  admmisters  such  encouragemeut 
to  virtue  and  punishments  to  vice,  as  he,  In  his  infinite  wisdom,  judges 
proper,  and  of  the  propriety  of  which  the  good  man  can  never  doubt, 
and  therefore  says,  "Thy  will  be  done,"  because  he  knows  his  will  is 
right;  and  it  is  the  first  principle  of  a  Christian's  heart  to  rejoice  in  that 
which  is  right,  though  it  seem  dark  to  him  now,  and  is  afflictive  to  him 
personally. 

In  possession  of  these  views  and  feelings,  the  good  man  only  is 
rationally  and  permanently  cheerful.  No  cheerfulness  but  his  is  beyond 
the  power  of  fortune,  or  the  influence  of  earthly  events.  If  prosperity 
smile  on  him,  and  he  and  his  country  are  full  to  overflowing,  he  does  not 
become  proud  and  vain  in  his  heart,  and  forget  his  God.  His  devotion 
becomes  more  intense  and  uniform  by  the  addition  of  a  large  amount  of 
gratitude ;  and,  instead  of  using  the  power  which  the  abundance  of  his 
wealth  gives  him,  to  do  harm,  he  uses  it,  and  his  wealth  also,  to  diffuse 
relief  and  joy  among  the  afflicted,  and  thus  disposes  a  thousand  hearts  to 
I'ise  up  and  bless  him. 

Besides  this,  he  has  the  pleasure  of  the  consciousness  of  doing  good, 
and  being  good — a  pleasure,  beyond  a  doubt,  the  purest  and  highest  a 
human  heart  can  feel  on  earth,  except  the  pleasure  of  a  consciousness  of 
sin  forgiven,  and  of  the  favor  of  God.  Moreover,  I  may  add,  he  is  in 
haste  to  do  all  the  good  he  can,  during  his  prosperity,  for  he  knows  not 
but  that  he  may  be  quickly  deprived  of  the  power  to  do  good,  by  some 
sudden  reverse  of  fortune.  He  seizes  quickly  the  opportunity  of  "  laying 
up  for  himself  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,"  that  his 
Saviour  may  say  to  him,  with  others :  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
inherit  the  kingdom  ;  for  I  was  hungry,  and  ye  fed  me  ;  thirsty,  and  ye 
gave  me  drink ;  naked,  and  ye  clothed  me ;  sick,  and  in  prison,  and  ye 
visited  me ;  for,  inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  With  this  exalted  end 
in  view,  he  hastens  to  do  all  the  good  he  can  during  his  prosperity. 

But  should  he  be  a  child  of  adversity,  from  his  youth  up,  or  should  he 
experience  the  deepest  reverses  of  fortune;  do  riches  take  wings  and  fly 
away ;  do  friends  forsake  ;  does  health  fail ;  does  he  stand  like  some 
blasted  tree,  on  the  bleak  mountain  peak,  stripped  of  all  its  branches,  and 
scathed  with  the  storms  and  lightnings  of  ages  ;  has  the  very  genius  of 
desolation  and  sorrow  taken  him  into  captivity — under  any  or  all  those 
circumstances,  he  does  not,  like  the  ungodly  man  too  frequently,  throw 
away  his  life  foolishly,  in  a  fit  of  despair :  but  with  a  firmness  and  resig- 
nation peculiar  to  a  good  man,  he  bows  to  the  awful  dispensations  of  his 
God,  and  repeats,  with  a  chastened  smile,  "Thy  will  be  done!"  and 
though  that  will  is  awfully  mysterious  at  the  present  time,  yet  he  is  sure 
its  issues  will  be  best.  Of  such  an  one,  under  such  circumstances,  we 
may  well  say,  with  the  poet : 


THE     OMNIPRESENCE     OF    GOD.  403 

"  Liice  some  tall  cliflf,  that  lifts  his  awful  form, 
Swells  from  tho  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm ; 
Though  clouds  and  tempests  round  its  sides  are  spread, 
Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head." 

In  the  second  place,  this  doctrine  of  the  omnipresence  of  God  should 
powerfully  restrain  from  every  sjxcies  and  semblance  of  vice,  and  encour- 
age to  the  cidtivation  of  every  virtue  ;  because  we  are  compelled  to  con- 
clude, that  God  knows  the  moi-al  character  and  condition  of  each  of  his 
intelligent  creatures. 

The  knowledge  of  the  character  and  condition  of  each,  implies,  not 
only  a  knowledge  of  the  general  conduct  and  deportment  of  each  person, 
liut  a  knowledge  of  the  private  actions,  secret  deeds,  unuttered  thoughts, 
and  inmost  emotions  of  each  one's  soul.  This  knowledge  of  each  one's 
moral  character  is  scarcely  ever  thought  of,  and  still  less  frequently 
understood.  It  is  to  be  feared,  most  persons  suppose  the  Almighty  re- 
gards not  the  petty  interests  and  actions  of  individual  men,  but  only 
"  the  greater  aifairs  of  empires,  worlds,  and  systems ;"  and,  of  course, 
such  feel  no  restraint  from  the  doctrine  of  the  omnipresence  of  God. 
This  erroneous  opinion  is  supposed  by  Dr.  Dwigiit  to  arise  either  fi-om 
want  of  examination  ;  or,  an  apprehension  that  it  is  beneath  the  dig- 
nity of  God  to  regard  such  things  ;  or,  a  dread  in  their  minds  of  such 
attention,  on  the  part  of  God,  to  their  concerns,  because  they  mill  not 
bear  divine  inspection. 

That  their  mistake  is  principally  ownng  to  the  first  and  third  of  these 
causes,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  How  should  those  who  examine  not  the 
nature  and  perfections  of  God,  conclude  he  is  interested  in  the  personal 
character  of  each  individual  ?  Certainly,  not  any  more  than  those  who 
do  examine  his  character  properly,  could  be  ignorant  of  this  truth. 

But  it  is  beneath  the  dignity  of  the  Almighty.  This  sad  opinion  is 
owing  to  an  ignorance  of  the  character  of  God.  Those  who  make  it, 
seem  to  forget  that  God  is  necessarily  present  everywhere,  and,  of  course, 
observes  all  things,  whether  they  relate  to  an  atom  or  a  world,  an  insect 
or  an  angel ;  and,  observing  all  things,  he  must  understand  all  the  vari- 
ety of  their  bearings  and  relations.  Hence,  from  the  nature  of  the 
divine  Being,  he  must  knoio  the  moral  character  and  condition  of  each 
person,  and  be  attentive  to  iho  minutest  event  in  the  life  of  nn  ephemeral 
insect,  as  well  as  to  the  revolutions  of  empires.  Of  course,  they  err  very 
seriously,  who  suppose  the  sinaller  G\eut%  in  the  history  of  the  world  and 
its  inhabitants,  are  not  noticed  by  our  great  Creator. 

This  very  serious  error  not  unfrcquently  arises  from  another  cause  :  a 
dread  in  the  mind  of  such  attentiofi,  on  the  part  of  God,  to  our  jKrsonal 
conduct  /  because  it  will  f.ot  bear  divine  inspection. 

We  are  always  inclined  to  disbelieve  that  which  we  find  it  our  interest 
and  pleasure  not  to  believe.     Hence  we  seldom  take  pains  to  discover  an 


404  J-    P-    DURBIN. 

error,  the  indulgence  of  which  is  so  pleasing,  and  the  reverse  so  terrible. 
When  the  seducer  has  marked  some  lovely,  inexperienced,  .and  unsus- 
pecting creature  for  his  victim ;  when  all  his  passions,  with  increased 
force,  and  with  accelei-ated  and  inflamed  action,  urge  him  on  in  his  ruinous 
enterprise ;  when  the  temptation  is  well  circumstanced^  from  the  thought 
less  gayety  and  confidence  of  his  object;  can  it  be  supposed  that  he  will 
pause  to  ask  himself:  Is  God  attending  to  my  project  f 

No.  If  such  a  question  glance  through  his  mind,  he  shuts  up  his  un- 
derstanding until  the  painful  emotion  is  vanished,  and  then  affects  to 
chide  himself  for  an  unmanly  misgiving  of  heart ;  though  he  might  know 
at  a  single  thought,  God  is  the  avenger  of  the  toronged,  does  he  pause  to 
contemplate  the  desolation  and  woe  he  is  about  to  work  ?  Does  he  think 
of  the  premature  death  of  aged,  fond,  and  doating  parents  ?  Does  he 
reflect  on  the  bitter  cup  of  shame,  mortification,  and  infam}-,  which 
awaits  his  unfortunate  victim  ?  Does  he  imagine,  for  a  moment,  the  un- 
utterable pang  which  shall  break  her  heart ;  and  the  fell  despair  which 
shall  devour  the  desire  for  life,  and  force  her  to  the  commission  of  self- 
murder?  Does  he  reflect,  God  is  present  to  take  knoioledge  of  the  pro- 
ject, and  each  stage  of  its  developtnent,  and  stands  pledged  to  avenge  the 
injured,  and  arraign  and  punish  the  destroyer  f  ISTo.  If  the  image  of 
this  train  of  unutterable  anguish  rise  faintly  in  his  mind,  he  strangles  it : 
because,  the  acknowledgment  of  its  existence  and  truth,  would  be  the 
death-knell  to  his  peace  and  pleasure.  This  he  can  not  endure,  although 
they  be  false  and  criminal.  He,  therefore,  %oill  not  knoio  God  is  present, 
marking  all  his  purposes,  thoughts,  passions,  and  actions.  He  dreads  this 
knowledge,  as  he  dreads  the  pams  of  hell ;  and  persuades  himself,  God 
doth  not  hnov).  Foolish,  cowardly,  and  guilty  sinner  !  Thou  shalt  one 
day  Icnov)  God  saw  thee,  and  achioicledge  it,  too.  Better,  then,  know 
it  while  thou  mayst  make  thy  peace  with  thy  Maker. 

An  abiding  sense  of  the  omnipresence  of  God,  is  the  only  efiicient  bar- 
rier against  vice  in  all  cases.  If  the  defrauder  would  only  recollect,  when 
he  is  putting  down  an  incorrect  account,  or  aflixing  a  spurious  signature, 
God  sees  me  !  could  he  proceed  ?  If  the  witness,  about  to  swear  away 
the  property,  reputation,  or  life  of  a  fellow-being,  would  only  recollect, 
Though  none  other  can  know  I  am  swearing  falsely,  yet  God  does  know  j 
could  his  accursed  tongue  i^ronounce  the  fatal  words  ?  No.  It  would 
become  j(?a/s?ef?  in  the  attempt  at  utterance.  Could  the  murderer,  though 
spurred  on  by  every  possible  agency — by  want,  oppression,  avarice,  re- 
venge for  some  unpardonable  insult  done  to  his  person,  or  his  honoi",  or 
by  any,  or  all  possible  provocations — accorai^lish  his  destructive  plot,  did 
he  but  recollect  at  the  time,  God  is  witnessing  the  luhole  transaction  ? 
And  so  of  all  the  other  deeds  of  wickedness  which  men  do  commit.  How 
would  the  amount  of  crime  .in  our  world  be  lessened,  wei"e  it  not  for 
man's  guilty  forgctfalness  of  the  omnipresence  of  God — if  men  con- 
stantly recollected,  "  God  searchcth  us  and  knoweth  us  ;  he  is  about  oui 


THE     OMNirRESENCE     OF     GOD.  405 

paths,  and  about  our  beds,  and  spietJi  out  all  our  Avays ;  lie  liatl.,  beset  us 
behind  and  before,  so  that  there  is  no  fleeing  from  his  presence." 

This  doctrine  of  the  omnipresence  of  God,  encourages  to  the  cidtivation 
of  every  virtue.  As  it  regards  those  which  may  be  termed  the  passive 
virtues,  such  as  forbearance,  and,  frequently,  quiet  submission  under  a 
sense  of  injuries,  nothing  can  dispose  us  to  the  practice  of  them  so 
l)roperIy,  and  so  strongly,  as  a  continual  sense  of  the  presence  of  God. 
Because,  we  are  assured,  he  is  interested  in  the  wrongs  men  suffer,  and 
has  declared  himself  the  ave?iger  of  the  innocent ;  saying,  "Vengeance 
is  mine,  I  will  repay."  With  this  assurance,  men  should  not  be  hasty  to 
lake  satisfaction  for  the  wrongs  done  them.  Let  them  recollect,  forbear, 
ance,  on  proper  principles,  and  to  a  proper  extent,  combines  two  vastly 
important  advantages :  it  gives  the  character  and  reicards  of  mercy 
(blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  mercy)  ;  and  yet  it  does 
not  deprive  the  individual  of  the  assurance,  that  full. retribution  shaU 
finally  he  rendered  for  the  torongs  he  has  suffered.  This  doctrine  runs 
through  all  the  Xew  Testament :  "  With  what  measure  ye  mete,  it  shall 
be  measured  to  you  again."  "  They  shed  the  blood  of  saints  and  proph- 
ets, and  thou  hast  given  them  blood  to  drink,  for  they  are  toorthy.^'' 
"  Seeing  it  is  a  righteous  thing  tcith  God  to  recompense  tribulation  to 
them  that  trouble  yoic." 

But  as  it  regards  the  active  virtues,  nothing  so  strongly  inclines  men 
to  cultivate  them  as  a  sense  of  the  continual  presence  of  God,  and,  of 
course,  a  conviction  that  he  is  interested  in  our  moral  characters.  The 
vague  doctrine  of  disinterested  benevolence^  as  sustained  by  some,  i.  e., 
the  doing  good,  and  practicing  virtue  entirely  for  the  sake  of  good  and 
virtue,  and  without  any  regard  to  the  rewards  and  advantages  of  such 
acts,  has  no  foundation,  either  in  the  constitution  of  man's  mind  and  na- 
ture, or  in  the  holy  Scriptures. 

In  reference  to  the  constitution  of  man,  all  responsible  acts  must  have 
some  adequate  motive  ;  which  can  not  be,  without  the  power  of  interest, 
under  some  modification  or  name.  A  consciousness  of  this  truth  may  be 
I'ead  on  every  page  of  the  common  history  of  this  world.  Interest,  in 
its  proper  and  extensive  sense,  is  that  power  which  induces  us  to  act,  and 
is  only  another  name  for  motive.  Consequently,  there  can  no  more  be  a 
disinterested  responsible  action,  than  there  can  be  a  responsible  action 
without  a  motive.  Hence,  we  find  the  doctrine  of  disinterested  benevo- 
lence at  war  with  the  constitution  of  man. 

Nor  does  this  view,  as  some  think,  degrade  the  nature  and  dignity  of 
the  actor,  or  subtract  from  the  excellency  of  the  action.  The  dignity  of 
tlie  actor  is  founded  on  this  single  consideration  :  he  acts  under  the  direc- 
tion of  reason  /  and  the  excellency  of  the  action  is  to  be  tested  by  the 
soundness  and  weight  of  the  reason  which  induced  it.  But  reason  im- 
plies the  consideration  of  some  things  which  have  the  i)ower  to  interest, 
and  move  the  mind  to  action  ;  and  hence  become  motives.     The  power 


406  J-  P-  DURBiisr. 

to  produce  motion  must  be  eitlior  jjhysical  or  moral.  Physical  power  ia 
absolute  force  applied  to  move  matter.  Moral  power  is  the  force  of  ob- 
ligation and  duty,  founded  on  the  will  of  God,  operating  on  mind ;  yet 
not  so  as  to  destrQy  the  poioer  of  the  icill,  which  is  capable  of  deterinin- 
ing  the  m,omentum  of  the  influence  of  the  operating  motives.  Hence, 
motive,  or  the  power  to  move,  is  antecedent  to,  and  different  from  the 
motion  induced  by  it.  This  single  law  of  mental  action,  therefore,  de- 
stroys the  doctrine  of  disinterested  benevolence  ;  because,  disinterested 
benevolence  i>roposes  to  practice  piety  and  virtue,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
piety  and  virtue  ;  which  is  to  suppose  that  an  action  is  the  motive  of  its 
own  commission,  which  is  absurd.  For  it  would  be  to  suppose  that  that 
which  is  not,  operates  to  produce  itself. 

In  conclusion,  on  this  point,  this  doctrine  of  disinterested  benevolence 
allows,  necessarily,  that  there  is  no  obligation  to  do  those  disinterested 
acts.  Because,  i^  there  be  an  obligation  on  a  responsible  being,  he  is 
necessarily  interested  in  discharging  it.  Two  conclusions,  therefore,  fol- 
low from  this  doctrine.  First.,  We  are  under  no  obligation,  whatever, 
to  perform  the  highest  virtuous  acts  of  which  we  are  capable.  Because, 
we  are  told,  such  an  obligation  would  destroy  the  disinterested  nature 
of  the  action.  Secondly,  If  there  be  no  obligation  to  do  these  disinter- 
estedly benevolent  actions,  there  can  be  no  criminality  in  not  doing,  or 
neglecting  to  do  them.  And  this  would  be  to  say.  It  is  not  criminal  to 
neglect  to  perform  the  highest  virtuous  acts  of  which  our  nature  is  capa- 
ble, which  is  evidently  absurd.  From  what  is  supposed  to  be  known, 
therefore,  of  the  nature  and  laws  of  intellect,  it  is  fair  to  conclude  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  disinterested  benevolence,  in  any  creature,  human  or 
angelic. 

But  to  return  to  the  proposition.  Tlie  doctrine  of  disinterested  benev- 
olence receives  no  support  from  the  Scriptures. 

In  proving  this  point,  it  will  also  be  established,  that  the  doctrine  of 
the  omnipresence  of  God,  necessarily  including  his  interest  in  our  moral 
characters,  is  the  strongest  incentive  to  the  cultivation  of  every  vii-tue, 
and  all  piety. 

The  holy  Scriptures  uniformly  present  and  insist  on  two  motives  to 
benevolence,  or  Avorks  of  virtue  and  piety  ;  in  both  of  which  motives 
we  are  deeply  interested.  First,  The  maintenance  of  a  good  conscience. 
Secondly,  The  hope  of  reward. 

The  maintenance  of  a  good  conscience  is  a  motive  of  double  interest, 
as  it  implies  peace  with  ourselves ;  and  hence  involves  the  pleasure  of 
selt-approbation,  and  the  pleasure  arismg  from  the  consciousness  of  doing, 
and  being  good.  It  also  implies  peace  with  God ;  and  hence  excludes 
the  pains  and  apprehensions  peculiar  to  guilt.  In  all  ages,  in  all  coun- 
tries, and  among  all  nations,  these  have  been  considered  the  purest,  and 
most  powerful  sources  of  moral  action.  St.  Paul  says,  "  Our  rejoicing 
is  this,  the  testimony  of  our  consciences,"'  etc.;  "I  exercise  myself  to 


THE     OMNIPRESENCE     OP    GOD.  407 

have  always  a  conscience  void  of  oftense,  toward  God,  and   toward 
man." 

As  a  good  conscience  implies  approbation  of  one's  own  actions  and 
condition,  there  must  be  some  test  or  standard  higher  than  and  inde- 
pendent of  the  individual  himself,  by  which  he  may  judge  of  his  own 
actions,  and  try  his  own  condition.  "Where,  then,  is  this  test  or  stand- 
ard ?  Some  have  answered,  The  eternal  Jitness  of  things.  Others,  The 
immutable  irrinclples  of  right  and  reason.  But  who  determines  this 
fitness  of  things  ?  oi-  who  establishes  these  immutable  principles  of  right 
and  reason  ?  And  if  they  be  necessarily  eternal,  who  is  to  explain 
them  ?  These  are  difficulties  which  have  perj)lexed  philosophers  and 
moralists  not  a  little,  and  will  continue  to  do  so  until  they  refer  (as  they 
should  do),  to  the  will  of  God,  for  this  standard.  Here  then,  the  Chris- 
tian man  fixes  the  scale  by  which  to  try  himself;  and  to  this  he  comes, 
and  perceives  in  it  the  obligation  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  reUgious 
worship ;  binding  the  creature  to  submission  and  adoration  of  his 
Maker,  and  his  Maker  to  aftbrd  him  protection,  peace,  and  happiness.  It 
is  very  plain,  howevei',  that  there  could  not  be  this  constant  reference  to 
the  will  of  God,  by  all  creatures,  unless  there  be  a  constant  conviction 
of  his  continual  omnipresence.  And  the  fact  of  such  reference  implies, 
that  we  have  an  interest  in  pleasing  him.  Hence  the  Christian's  prayer, 
"  Thy  will  be  done.''''  A  consciousness  that  the  will  of  God  is  done  in 
us,  and  by  us,  is  one  of  the  highest  and  purest  pleasures  of  which  a 
moral  being  is  capable. 

The  second  motive  presented  in  the  Scripture,  is,  the  hope  of  reioard. 

By  reioard  is  imderstood  some  advantage,  privilege,  or  benefit  received 
from  another,  or  resulting  from  a  jjarticular  act,  or  course  of  action. 
With  this  definition  it  will  be  safe  to  affirm,  No  creature  performs  a 
responsible  act  without  being  under  the  influence  of  this  motive.  Indeed 
it  is  the  most  powerful  and  proper  that  can  operate  on  any  created  intel- 
lect. God  himself  never  acts  without  a  competent  reason  for  his  action ; 
and  reason  always  implies  motive.  Because  it  is  the  province  of  reason 
to  discern  good  from  evil,  right  from  wrong ;  and  such  discernment 
must  influence  every  good  being. 

It  has  been  said  above,  that  the  holy  Scriptures  present  the  hope  of 
reward,  as  M-ell  as  the  maintenance  of  a  good  conscience,  as  a  motive  to 
piety  and  virtue.  In  proof,  Moses  is  said  to  have  chosen  rather  to  suffer 
affliction  with  the  people  of  God,  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for 
a  season  ;  '■'•for  he  had  respect  unto  the  recompense  of  the  rexcard.''''  But 
the  question  must  be  considered  as  settled  forever,  in  view  of  what  is  said 
of  the  Saviour  of  the  world — "  who.,  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before 
HIM,  endured  the  cross,  despised  the  shame,  and  is  set  down  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  majesty  on  high."  The  same  inducement  is  presented  to 
the  Christian  in  his  pilgrimage,  on  every  page  of  the  New  Testament. 
"  If  we  suffer  with  him,  we  shall  also  reign  with  him."     "  Be  thou 


408  J-    P-    DURBIN. 

fjiithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown  of  life."  "  We  endure 
as  seeing  him  that  is  invisible."  "Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Chiist,  who,  according  to  his  abundant  mercy,  hath  begotten 
us  again  to  a  lively  h.0Y>e,  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  from  the 
dead ;  which  hope  we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul."  Whole  pages 
might  be  transcribed  to  the  same  end. 

The  consciousness  of  the  good  man  on  this  point,  attests  the  doctrine. 
He  endures  the  cross  that  he  may  wear  the  crown.  Being  "  a  good 
soldier  of  Jesus  Christ,"  "  he  does  not  entangle  himself,  that  he  may 
please  him  who  hath  called  him  to  be  a  soldier."  Moreover  he  studies 
"to  show  himself  approved  unto  God  in  all  things."  All  this  course  of 
conduct  sup230ses  the  Divine  Being  is  intimately  observant  of  our  ac- 
tions, and  interested  in  our  moral  character ;  because  he  is  always 
present  to  know  what  we  do.  And  as  he  is  bound,  by  his  very  nature 
and  perfections,  always  to  discover  and  punish  all  Avickedness,  and  to 
notice  and  reward  all  piety  ;  of  course,  his  favor  is  life,  and  his  dis- 
pleasure worse  than  death. 

Hence  we  see  that  the  constitution  of  man,  the  nature  of  reason,  the 
observation  of  every  day,  the  consciousness  of  each  pure  heart,  and  the 
uniform  testimony  of  the  holy  Scriptures,  confirm  the  doctrine,  that  a 
sense  of  the  continual  2^ersonal  omnipresence  of  Jehovah^  is  the  most 
powerful  restraint  on  vice,  and  the  most  efficient  encouragement  to 
virtice 


DISCOURSE    XXX. 

LYMAN     BEECHER,    D.D. 

The  names  of  few  men  among  the  American  clergy  now  living,  have  stood  out 
so  long  in  bold  relief  as  that  of  Lyman  Beecher.  His  active  life  covers  more  than 
half  a  century;  as  he  was  born  (at  New  Haven,  Connecticut)  October  12th,  1775; 
which  makes  him  now  about  eighty-two  years  .of  age.  He  was  the  son  of  David 
Beecher,  who  was  the  son  of  Nathaniel,  who  was  the  son  of  Joseph,  who  was  the 
son  of  John,  who  was  the  ancestor  of  all  the  New  England  Beechers.  All  the 
ancestors  were  devout  and  professedly  religious  men.  Dr.  Beecher's  great-grand- 
mother was  the  daughter  of  a  full-blooded  Welshwoman — a  Roberts — and  thus  the 
blood  of  the  Beechers  received  an  intermixture  of  the  "Welsh  element,  with  its 
poetry  and  music ;  not  difficult  to  be  seen  in  the  Doctor  liimself,  and  in  the  more 
prominent  members  of  his  family,  Edward,  Charles,  Harriet,  Henry  Ward,  etc. 

Mr.  Beecher  entered  Yale  College,  under  the  Presidency  of  Dr.  Dwight,  at  the 
age  of  eighteen,  where  he  graduated,  and  then,  after  studying  theology  one  year, 
commenced  preaching  at  East  Hampton,  Long  Island,  where  he  was  ordained,  in 
September,  1799,  settling  upon  a  salary  of  $300.  In  1810,  he  removed  to  Litchfield, 
Connecticut,  and  held  the  charge  of  the  First  Congregational  Church  until  1826 — 
the  most  laborious  part  of  his  life.  In  1826,  he  accepted  a  call  from  Hanover  church 
in  Boston,  which  he  resigned  in  1832.  to  assume  the  Presidency  of  Lane  Seminary, 
Ohio  ;  performing,  as  well,  the  pastoral  duties  of  the  Second  Presbyterian  church  in 
Cincinnati,  and  with  great  acceptance  and  profit. 

As  a  preacher.  Dr.  Beecher  has  possessed  uncommon  power.  When  his  own 
emotions  were  thoroughly  aroused,  and  his  thoughts  were  transfused  with  the  most 
fervid  moral  and  social  emotion,  with  vigorous  tongue,  in  original  phrase,  interlaced 
with  short  and  glancing  illustrations,  which  glowed  and  ripened  into  the  boldest 
metaphors,  his  power  was  electrical ;  and  the  audience  was  swayed  to  liis  sonorous 
voice,  as  trees  in  a  forest  to  the  rushing  of  autumnal  winds. 

Dr.  Beecher  published,  many  years  ago,  "  A  Plea  for  the  West,"  a  volume  of 
Occasional  Discourses,  and  another  volume,  containing  six  discourses  on  Intemper- 
ance. He  has  also  published,  at  various  intervals,  a  great  variety  of  miscellaneous 
productions.  Such  a  collection  must  possess  great  intrinsic  value.  It  is  understood 
that  a  very  extensive  collection  of  his  writings  is  now  being  made  for  publication. 
The  famous  sermons  on  Intemperance  were  occasioned  by  the  inebriety  of  a  very 
dear  friend  ;  and  were  thus  born  of  a  full  heart.  And,  although  they  did  not  save 
the  man  whose  case  inspired  them,  they  have  doubtless  saved  millions  of  others , 
as  they  initiated  a  great  moral  enterprise,  and  are  still  read  in  almost  every  lau- 
guage  of  the  civilized  world. 


410  LYMAN    BEECIIER. 

The  fullowing  racy  criticism  upon  Dr.  Beecher's  writings,  appeared  in  the  "  Bib 
liotlieca  Sacra"  of  1852  :  "  His  mind  is  thoroughly  of  the  New  England  stamp ;  and 
whatever  subject  it  touches,  its  constant  struggle  is  for  defmiteness,  clearness,  and 
utility.  Whatever  it  may  be,  dogma,  metaphor  or  fact,  it  must  be  as  exactly  shaped 
and  as  easily  seen  and  as  effectively  handled,  as  a  Yankee's  whitthng-knife,  or  be  will 
none  of  it.  Beautiful  tropes  which  adorn  nothingness  and  cover  up  emptiness,  fine 
language  which  would  express  a  thought  handsomely,  if  there  were  any  thought 
there  to  be  expressed  by  it,  language  which  is  a  mere  cloud  in  the  sunlight,  poetic 
imaginings  which  float  in  the  air  by  their  own  specific  levity  and  never  touch  either 
earth  or  heaven,  for  such  tilings  as  these  you  will  look  in  vain  among  Dr.  Beecher's 
works.  Like  a  true  Yankee  schoolmaster,  if  he  intends  to  use  a  bkch  rod,  he  strips 
off  all  the  leaves  in  the  first  place  ;  and  then  come  the  blows  in  right-hearty  good 
earnest.  In  his  style  there  is  conciseness  and  pungency,  brilliancy  and  vigor,  clear- 
ness and  sharpness,  rhetoric  and  logic,  in  remarkable  combination." 

One  of  the  most  celebrated  cf  Dr.  Beecher's  sermons  is  that  which  is  given  below. 
It  was  preached  before  the  Presbytery  of  Long  Island  in  1806,  and  printed,  and 
had  an  immense  circulation.  We  ooce  heard  the  Doctor  say  that  he  considered  it 
his  most  effective  sermon.  As  its  very  great  length  forbids  its  introduction  entire, 
we  have  the  author's  permission  for  its  careful  reduction  at  the  points  indicated. 
It  is  powerful  throughout ;  but  the  conclusion  is  sublime. 


THE  REMEDY  FOR  DUELING. 

"  And  judgment  is  turned  away  backward,  and  justice  standeth  afar  off:  for  truth  is 
fellen  in  the  street,  and  equity  can  not  enter." — Isaiah,  lix.  14,  15. 

The  people  of  Israel,  when  this  passage  was  written,  had  become 
exceedingly  corrupt,  and  were  sinking  under  the  pressure  of  fearful  judg- 
ments. But  although  they  are  hardened  in  sin,  they  are  not  insensible 
to  misery  ;  and  though  regardless  of  God  as  their  benefactor,  they  mui-- 
mur  and  tremble  before  him  as  the  author  of  their  calamities.  They 
admit,  indeed,  their  sinfulness,  but  suj^pose  that  they  have  made  already 
a  sufficient  atonement  for  it.  It  is  not  for  sending  judgments,  therefore, 
that  they  impeach  the  Almighty,  but  for  continuing  them.  Not  because 
be  is  just,  but  because  he  has  no  mercy.  "Wherefore  have  we  fasted," 
say  they,  "  and  thou  seest  not — have  we  afflicted  our  soul,  and  thou  tak- 
est  no  knowledge  ?"  The  majesty  of  heaven  condescends  to  reply.  He 
declares  their  sin  to  be  the  cause  of  his  judgiTients,  and  their  liypocrisy 
and  impenitence  the  ground  of  their  continuance.  The  sins  which 
brought  down  the  judgments  of  heaven  were,  it  ap])ears,  national  sins. 
As  individuals  they  Avere  guilty,  and  each  had  contributed  to  augment 
the  national  stock.  But  of  all  classes,  their  rulers  and  men  of  wealth  and 
eminence  had  been  the  most  liberal  contributors.  Their  private  char- 
acter was  abominable,  and  their  public  character  was  no  better.  They 
perverted  justice — their  feet  ran  to  evil — their  hands  were  defiled  with 


THE     REMEDY    FOR     UUELING.  411 

blood.  Their  thoughts  were  thoughts  of  iniquity  ;  wasting  and  destruc- 
tion were  in  tlicir  paths.  Tlie  prolligate  example  of  rulers  has  at  all 
times  a  pernicious  influence.  It  had  in  the  jjresent  case.  Conspicuous 
by  its  elevation,  and  surrounded  by  the  fascinations  of  honor,  it  ensnared 
the  young,  emboldened  the  timid,  and  called  hardened  villains  from  their 
dark  retreats.  A  tremendous  scene  ensued — a  scene  of  impurity, 
intrigue,  jealousy,  violence,  and  murder.  And  there  was  none  to  help. 
All  bonds  were  sundered — the  foundations  were  destroyed.  "None 
called  for  justice."  The  oppressed  did  not,  because  they  despaired  of 
her  aid  ;  and  the  wicked  did  not,  because  they  Avere  too  guilty  to  trust 
to  her  decisions.  Doubtless  in  the  humble  walks  of  life,  there  were  some 
who  had  escaj^ed  this  contagion  of  bad  example,  and  who,  had  they  been 
united  and  courageous,  might  have  set  bounds  to  these  evils  ;  but  they 
neglected  to  make  exertion — they  were  dismayed,  and  gave  up  the  cause 
of  God  without  an  efibrt. 

I  have  no  conception  that  this  state  of  the  Jewish  nation,  is,  in  gen- 
eral, a  correct  portrait  of  our  own.  But  are  there  no  pomts  of  resem- 
blance? I  allude  now  only  to  the  conduct  of  such  of  our  rulers  and  men 
of  eminence  as  denominate  themselves  men  of  honor;  and  who,  desjiis- 
ing  the  laws  of  their  country  and  their  God,  adjust  with  weapons  of  death 
their  private  quarrels.  To  such,  the  character  ascribed  to  the  Jewish 
rulers  is  affectingly  applicable.  Their  hands  are  full  of  blood  ;  and 
wasting  and  destruction  are  in  their  paths.  I  allude  also  to  the  impunity 
with  which,  in  a  community  nominally  Christian,  and  under  the  eye  of 
the  law,  these  deeds  of  violence  are  committed.  "With  respect  to  the 
punishment  of  even  murder^  committed  in  a  duel,  "judgment  is  turned 
away  backward,  and  justice  standeth  afar  off:  truth  is  fallen  in  the  street, 
and  equity  can  not  enter."  It  may  be  added,  that,  as  among  the  Jews, 
\!i\Q,  people^  who  by  the  influence  of  public  sentiment  might  have  limited 
the  evils  of  their  day,  remained  inactive ;  so  the  great  body  of  this 
nation,  although  they  abhor  the  crime  of  dueling,  remain  inactive  spec- 
tators of  the  wide-wasting  evil.  But  it  will  be  demanded,  "  how  can  the 
peojile  prevent  dueling  ?  Already  laws  are  enacted,  with  severe  pen- 
alties ;  besides  this  what  can  we  do  ?"  You  can  rescue  those  laws  from 
contempt,  by  securing  their  prompt  execution.  Do  you  demand  how  ? 
By  withholding  your  suffrage  from  every  man  whose  hands  are  stained 
with  blood,  or  who  has  been  directly  or  indirectly  concerned  in  a  duel ; 
and  by  intrusting  to  men  of  fair  moral  character,  and  moral  princii»ie,  the 
making  and  execution  of  your  laws.  It  will  therefore  be  the  object  of 
this  discourse  to  suggest  and  illustrate  the  reasons  which  should  induce 
every  man  to  withhold  his  vote  from  any  person  who  has  fought,  or  aided 
in  fighting,  a  duel. 

1.  The  elevation  of  duelists  tojwwer,  is  a  pi-actice  in  direct  opposition 
to  the  ]>reccpts  of  the  Christian  reUgion. 

Chil  government  is  a  divine  ordinance.     The  particular  form,  is  lef^ 


412  LYMAN     BEECHP]R. 

to  the  discretion  of  men ;  but  the  character  of  rulers  God  has  himself 
prescribed.  They  must  he  Just  men:  such  as,  fear  God — a  terror  to  evil- 
doers,  and  a  praise  to  them  that  do  well.  Do  duelists  answer  to  thia 
description  ?  Are  they  just  men  ?  Do  they  fear  God  ?  Look  at  theii 
law  of  honor.  It  constitutes  the  party  judge  in  his  own  cause,  and  exe- 
cutor of  his  own  sentence.  Its  precepts,  like  those  of  Draco,  are  written 
in  blood.  Death,  or  exposure  to  it,  is  its  lightest  penalty  ;  and  this,  with 
unrelenting  severity,  is  inflicted  for  the  most  trifling  ofiense,  as  well  as 
for  the  most  enormous  crime  ;  and  as  often,  perha|:)s,  upon  the  innocent 
as  npon  the  guilty. 

When  arrested  by  the  fatal  challenge,  no  plea  of  reverence  for  God, 
of  respect  for  human  law,  of  conscience,  of  innocency,  absence  of  anger, 
actual  friendship,  aflection  to  j^arents,  wife,  or  children,  the  hope  of 
heaven  or  fear  of  hell,  is  for  one  moment  admitted.  All  obligations  are 
canceled  ;  all  ties  are  burst  asunder ;  all  consequences  are  disregarded. 
"Nor  justice  nor  mercy  may  interpose,  to  mitigate  the  rigors  of  the 
controversy.  The  peaceable  must  fight  the  quarrelsome — the  ricli  man, 
the  bankrupt — the  father  of  a  family,  the  libertine — the  son  of  many 
hopes,  the  worthless  prodigal."  It  is  a  law  which  inculcates  no  virtue, 
and  which  prohibits  no  crime,  if  it  be  honorably  committed.  It  tolerates 
adultery,  blasphemy,  intemperance,  revenge,  and  murder.  Thou  shalt 
kill,  is  its  first  and  great  command,  and  too  much  conscience  to  obey  it, 
is  the  only  unpardonable  sin.  The  obedient  subjects  of  a  law  so  impious, 
so  unmerciful  and  unjust,  God  hath  denounced  as  unfit  to  govern  men. 
They  are  disfranchised  by  heaven.     But, 

2.  The  duelist  is  a  murderer :  and,  were  there  no  sentence  of  exclu- 
sion from  civil  power  contained  in  the  word  of  God,  the  abhorrence  of 
murder  should  exclude  from  confidence  these  men  of  blood. 

"  Murder,"  says  Blackstone,  "  is  committed,  when  a  person  of  sound 
memory  and  discretion,  killeth  any  reasonable  creature  in  being,  with 
malice  aforethought,  either  express  or  implied.  Express  malice  is,  when 
one,  with  a  sedate,  deliberate  mind,  and  formed  design,  doth  kill 
another.  This  takes  in  the  case  of  deliberate  dueling,  where  both  par- 
ties meet  avowedly  with  an  intent  to  murder.".  And  a  greater  than 
Blackstone  has  said  :  "  If  a  man  smite  his  neighbor  with  an  instrument 
of  iron,  so  that  he  die,  he  is  a  murderer.  And  if  he  smite  him  with  a 
hand-weapon  of  wood,  wherewith  he  may  die,  a?id  he  die,  he  is  a  mur- 
derer. And  if  he  thrust  him  of  hatred,  or  hurl  at  him  by  lying  of  wait, 
that  he  die,  or  in  enmity  smite  him  Avith  his  hand  that  he  die,  he  that 
smote  him  shall  surely  be  put  to  death,  for  he  is  a  murderer."  The  laws 
of  the  several  States  have  also  spoken  on  this  subject,  and,  in  perfect 
acconlance  with  reason  and  the  word  of  God,  declare  the  taking  of  life 
in  a  duel  to  be  murder.  The  appointed. punishment  of  murder  is  death. 
God,  who  defines  the  crime,  has  himself  specified  the  penalty:  "Whose 
eheddeth  man's  blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.     The  murderei 


THE     REMEDY     EOR     DUELING.  413 

shall  surely  be  put  to  leath.  The  avenger  of  blood  himself  shall  slay 
the  murderer.  Moreover  ye  shall  take  no  satisfaction  for  the  life  of  a 
murderer  which  is  guilty  of  death,  but  he  shall  surely  be  put  to  death. 
He  shall  flee  to  the  pit ;  let  no  man  stay  him." 

These  denunciations  of  the  word  of  God  are  peremptory,  and  are  to 
this  moment  in  full  force.  The  law  violated  by  the  murderer  is  a  moral 
law.  The  canceling  of  Jewish  cei-emonies  has  not  affected  it.  The  pen- 
alty is  the  penalty  of  a  moral  law,  and  the  obligation  to  inflict  it  is  uni- 
versal and  immutable.  Shall  we  then  dare  to  rise  up  in  the  face  of 
heaven,  and  turn  judgment  away  backward  ?  Shall  we  snatch  from  the 
dungeon  and  the  gallows  the  victims  of  justice,  to  invest  them  vxith 
power,  and  adorn  them  with  dignity  and  honor  ? 

But  every  duelist,  it  will  perhaps  be  said,  is  not  a  murderer,  inasmuch 
as  death  is  not  always  the  consequence  of  fighting.  The  death  of  the 
victim  is,  I  know,  necessary  to  justify  the  infliction  of  the  penalty  in  its 
full  extent.  But  is  a  crime  never  committed  until  it  becomes  so  palpable 
that  the  law  can  take  hold  of  it  ?  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  eveiy 
duelist  is  a  murderer,  for  he  has  said  so  himself.  He  has  avowed  as  his 
own,  principles  of  murder;  he  tells  you  that,  if  occasion  calls,  and  his 
skill  be  sufficient,  he  will  murder.  And  if,  .when  insulted  or  challenged,  he 
has  stood  forth  in  the  field  of  combat,  and  aimed  the  deadly  weapon, 
and  through  want  of  skill  only,  or  through  fear  and  trembling,  has  liiilcd 
to  prostrate  his  victiin,-is  he  therefore  not  a  murderer?  Is  the  professed 
robber  who  fails  in  his  attempt,  therefore  not  a  robber  ?  Is  the  assassin 
because  his  thrust  Avas  not  deadly,  therefore  not  an  assassin  ? 

3,  A  regard  to  the  public  safety,  as  well  as  respect  to  the  authority 
of  God,  and  an  abhorrence  of  murder,  should  withhold  the  suffrage  of 
the  community  from  the  duelist. 

"When  we  intrust  life,  and  liberty,  and  property  in  the  hands  of  men, 
we  desire  some  pledge  of  their  fidelity.  But  what  pledge  can  the  duelist 
give  ?  His  religious  principle  is  notliing — his  moral  principle  is  nothing. 
His  honor  is  our  only  security.  Biit  is  this  sufficient  ?  Are  the  tempta- 
tions of  pOwer  so  feeble,  is  the  public  and  private  interest  so  inseparable, 
are  the  opportunities  of  fraud  so  few,  that  amid  the  projects  of  ambition, 
the  cravings  of  avarice,  and  the  conflicts  of  party,  tliere  is  no  need  of 
conscience  to  guaranty  the  integrity  of  rulers  ?  The  law  of  honor,  were 
its  maxims  obeyed  perfectly,  would  aflford  no  security.  "  It  is  a  system 
of  rules  constructed  by  jjeople  of  fashion,  and  calculated  to  facilitate  their 
intercourse  with  one  another,  and  for  no  other  purpose."  *  It  is  the 
guardian  of  honorable  men  only.  The  public  good  is  out  of  the  question  ; 
riglit  and  wrong  are  terms  unknown  in  this  code.  Its  sole  object  is  to 
enable  unprincipled  men  to  live  together  with  politeness  and  good 
humor — men,  whom  neither  the  laws  of  their  country,  nor  the  retribu 
tions  of  eternity,  can  restrain  from  acts  of  mutual  outiage,  and  who,  by 
*  Paley's  Philosophy. 


414  LTMAN    BEECHER. 

the  expectation  of  instant  death — ^by  the  pistol  at  the  breast — must  b<5 
restrained  from  unchristian  provocation,  and  drilled  into  good  behavior. 
It  is  for  the  interest  of  this  noble  portion  of  the  human  race  that  honor 
legislates ;  but  for  the  common  people — the  ignoble  vulgar — it  has  no 
concern.  They,  it  seems,  have  no  honor ;  or  if  they  have,  laws  and 
courts,  and  fines,  and  constables,  may  suffice  to  take  care  of  it. 

Hence  the  honor  of  a  dueling  legislator  does  not  restrain  him  in  the 
least  from  innumerable  crimes,  which  aifect  the  peace  of  society.  He 
may  contemn  the  Saviour  of  men,  and  hate  and  oppose  the  religion  of 
his  country.  He  may  be  a  Julian  iij  bitterness,  and  by  swearing  cans- 
the  earth  to  mourn  :  in  passion,  a  whirlwind  ;  in  cruelty  to  tenants,  to 
servants,  and  to  his  family,  a  tiger.  He  may  be  a  gambler,  a  prodigal, 
a  fornicator,  an  adulterer,  a  drunkard,  a  murderer,  and  not  violate  the 
laws  of  honor.  Nay,  honor  not  only  tolerates  crimes,  but  in  many  in- 
stances it  is  the  direct  and  only  temptation  to  crime. 

What  has  torn  yonder  wretches  from  the  embraces  of  their  wives  and 
their  children,  and  driven  them  to  the  field  of  bl'^od — to  the  confines  of 
hell  ?  What  nerves  those  arms,  rising  to  sport  with  life  and  heaven  ?  It  is 
honor — the  pledge  of  patriotism — the  evidence  of  rectitude !  Ah,  it  is 
done !  The  blood  streams,  and  the  victim  welters  on  the  ground.  And 
see  the  victor  coward  running  from  the  field,  and  for  a  few  days,  like 
Cain,  a  fugitive  and  vagabond,  until  the  first  burst  of  indignation  has 
passed,  and  the  hand  of  time  has  soothed  the  outraged  sensibility  of  the 
community  ;  then  publicly,  and  as  if  to  add  insult  to  injustice,  returning 
to  ojfer  his  services^  and  to  pledge  his  honor^  that  your  lives,  and  your 
rights  shall  be  safe  in  his  hand.  Nor  is  this  the  only  case  where  honor 
becomes  the  temptation  to  crime ;  it  operates  in  all  cases  where  the 
maxims  of  this  infernal  combination  have  attached  disgrace  to  the  per- 
formance of  duty,  and  honor  to  the  perpetration  of  iniquity.  And 
beside  the  crimes  Avhich  honor  tolerates,  and  the  scarcely  inferior  number 
which  it  enjoins,  there  are  a  variety  of  cases  where  it  will  not  restrain 
from  treacheries  confessedly  dishonorable. 

What  security  can  a  mere  man  of  honor  give  that  he  will  not  betray 
our  interest  in  every  case  where  it  can  be  done  without  detection  ? 
What  shall  secure  us,  when  the  price  of  perfidy  is  so  high  as  to  compen- 
sate for  the  disgrace  of  a  dishonorable  sale  f*  What,  where  attachment 
to  the  public  good  would  sacrifice  popularity?  For  in  this  case  the 
more  tender  his  regard  to  reputation,  and  dread  of  disgrace,  the  more 
certainly  will  he  abandon  the  public  good,  and  pursue  his  private  interest. 
What  also,  when  he  may  follow  a  multitude  to  do  evil,  and  annihilate 
liis  disgrace  by  dividing  it  with  many  ?     What,  when  his  reputation  is 

*  A  prime  minister  of  England,  after  much  experience,  said  that  eveiy  man  has  hia 
price ;  and,  applied  to  men  who  have  no  fear  of  God  before  them — who  have  no  pledge  of 
rectitude  but  "  What  will  the  world  think  of  me  ?"  the  justice  of  his  opinion  can  not 
!je  doubted. 


THE     REMEDY     FOR     DUELING.  415 

already  gone,  before  his  term  of  service,  or  his  ability  to  do  mischief  ex- 
pires ?  What,  in  those  numberless  cases,  where  imagined  ingratitude  on 
the  part  of  the  people  shall  impel  wounded  pride  to  an  honorable 
revenge  ?  What,  where  the  disgrace  of  poverty,  as  often  happens,  is 
more  dreaded  than  the  disgrace  of  a  dishonest  act  ?     *     *     * 

4.  The  system  of  dueling  is  a  system  of  despotism,  tending  directly 
and  powerfully  to  the  destruction  of  civil  liberty. 

A  free  government  is  a  government  of  laws  made  by  the  people  for 
the  pi-otection  of  life,  reputation,  and  property.  A  despotic  government 
is  where  life  and  all  its  blessings  are  subject  to  the  caprice  of  an  indi- 
vidual. Those  maxims  and  practices,  therefore,  which  remove  life,  repu- 
tation, and  propeity  from  under  the  protection  of  law,  and  subject  them 
to  the  caprice  of  an  individual,  are  the  essence  of  despotism.  >Tor  is  it 
material  whether  this  is  done  by  open  violence,  or  by  the  application  of 
unlawful  motives  which  as  effectually  answer  the  purpose.  Every  man 
conforming  to  the  laws  of  his  country,  has  a  right  to  the  peaceable 
enjoyment  of  life  and  all  its  immunities.  Xor  has  any  individual  a  right, 
directly  or  indirectly,  to  interrupt  this  enjoyment.  No  man  has  a  right 
to  tempt  his  neighbor  to  renounce  the  protection  of  law,  and  much  lesa 
to  punish  him  with  heavy  penalties  for  refushig  to  do  it.*  But  this  is 
precisely  the  despotic  privilege  which  duelists  have  arrogated  to  them- 
selves. The  man  who  refuses  a  challenge,  so  far  as  their  cursed  influence 
extends,  is  outlawed — is  branded  with  infamy  and  exposed  to  perpetual 
insult.  But  what  has  he  done  ?  He  has  feared  to  offend  his  God  ;  and 
under  trying  temptations  to  the  contrary,  has  bowed  submissive  to  the 
laws  of  his  country !  And  for  this  he  is  punished — substantially  pun- 
ished, in  a  free  country,  without  trial,  without  lav,',  nay,  even  in  oppo- 
sition to  law  ! 

If  the  despotic  principles  of  dueling  terminated  in  theory,  they  might 
excite  our  compassion  as  mere  distempers  of  the  brain  ;  but  their  prac- 
tical influence  is  powerful  and  fotal,  as  inimical  to  our  rights  in  fact^ 
as  it  is  in  theory ;  tending  directly  and  powerfully  to  the  destruction  of 
civil  liberty. 

Equal  laws  are  essential  to  civil  liberty ;  but  equal  laws  are  fir  fi'om 
satisfjnng  the  elevated  claims  of  duelists.  That  protection  which  the 
law  affords  to  them  in  common  with  others,  they  despise.  They  must 
have  more — a  right  to  decide  upon,  and  to  redress,  their  own  grievances. 
•'  When  Ave  please,"  say  they,  "  we  will  avail  ourselves  of  the  law ;  and 
when  we  please,  we  will  legislate  for  ourselves.  For  the  vulgar,  the  dull 
forms  of  law  may  suffice  ;  but  for  a  reputation  so  sacred,  and  for  feelings 
so  refined  and  sensitive  as  ours,  they  are  vastly  inadequate.  Nor  sliall 
they  restrain  our  hand  from  the  vindication  of  our  honor,  or  protect  the 
wretch  who  shall  presume  to  impeach  it."  Is  this  liberty  and  equality  ? 
Are  these  gentlemen,  indeed,  so  greatly  superior  to  the  people?  Is 
*  Hence,  the  mere  sending  of  a  challenge  is  punishable  by  law. 


416  LYMAN     BEECHER. 

their  reputation  so  much  more  important  ?  Are  their  feelings  so  much 
more  sacred?  Is  pain  moi-e  painful  to  the:j,  or  self  government  less 
their  duty  than  ours?  Must  we  bear  all  injuries  which  the  law  can  not 
redress  ?  Must  we  stifle  our  resentments,  or,  if  we  vent  them  in  acts  of 
murder,  swing  upon  the  gallows  ;  while  they  with  impunity  express  theii 
indignation,  and  satiate  with  blood  a  revengeful  spirit  ?     *     *     * 

Nor  are  the  immediate  eifects  of  dueling  the  only  consequences  to  be 
dreaded.  The  impunity  attending  the  crime,  the  confidence  reposed  in 
duelists,  and  the  honors  bestowed  upon  them,  contribute  to  diminish  in 
the  public  mind  the  guilt  of  crimes  generally.  There  is  a  relationship  in 
crimes  which  renders  famiUarity  with  one  a  harbinger  to  familiarity  with 
another.  The  wretch  who  has  destroyed  two  or  three  fellow-creatures 
in  a  duel,  will  feel  little  compunction  at  any  crime.  Nor  can  the  moral 
sensibilities  of  a  people  familiarized  to  murder  in  duels,  and  accustomed 
to  look  upon  criminals  of  this  description  with  confidence  and  respect, 
be  preserved  in  full  strength  in  reference  to  other  crimes.  Dueling, 
therefore,  while  it  destroys  directly  its  thousands,  destroys  by  its  de- 
praving influence  its  tens  of  thousands. 

The  efiect  already  is  great  and  alarming.  If  not  so,  why  does  the 
crime  shrink  before  the  stern  justice  of  New  England,  and  rear  its  guilty 
head  in  New  York,  and  stalk  with  bolder  front  as  you  pass  onward  to 
the  South.  If  the  efiect  is  not  great,  why  this  distinction  in  crimes  of 
the  same  class — why  so  alive  to  the  guilt  of  robbery,  assassination,  and 
murder  of  one  kind,  and  so  dead  to  the  guilt  of  dueling  ?  If  the  efiect 
of  dueling  upon  the  public  mind  is  not  great  why  is  it  that  murder  can 
be  committed  in  open  day  ;  the  crime  made  notorious,  nay,  proclaimed 
in  the  newspaper,  and  the  murderer  remain  unmolested  in  his  dwelUng  ? 
Why  does  he  not  flee  ?  Why  are  not  rewards  ofiered  by  those  author- 
ized by  the  laws,  and  expresses  hastened  in  all  directions  to  arrest  and 
bring  to  justice  the  guilty  fugitive  ?  Because  no  one  is  enough  shocked 
at  his  crime  to  make  these  exertions.  Because  if  such  measures  were 
taken,  the  public  mind  would  awake  from  its  torpor — dueling  would  be- 
come a  disgraceful  crime,  and  the  criminal  would  be  lost  to  himself  and 
to  his  country.  He  could  neither  be  Governor^  nor  Senator,  nor  Judge. 
He  would  be  exiled  from  public  favor,  immured  in  a  dungeon,  transported 
to  the  gallows,  and  launched  into  eternity.  If  the  prevalence  of  dueling 
has  not,  and  to  an  awful  degree,  affected  the  public  mind,  why  such  a 
number  of  half  apologists  for  the  crime  ;  and  how  can  we  so  patiently 
hear,  and  candidly  weigh,  and  almost  admit  their  arguments?  Could 
you  hear  with  equal  patience  assassination  justified,  though  (as  it  well 
jnight  be)  by  arguments  equally  conclusive  ?  Why  is  it,  if  this  deadly 
evil  has  not  aready  palsied  the  feelings  of  the  community,  that  even  the 
members  of  our  churches  have  heretofore,  with  so  little  hesitation,  voted 
for  men  of  blood  ?  Is  Christianity  compatible  with  murder  ?  Can 
you  patronize  the  murderer  by  granting  him  your  suffrage,  and  not 


THE     REMEDY     FOR     DUELING.  417 

become  a  partaker  in  his  sin  ?  Admit  as  the  mildest,  and  as  in  general 
the  true  construction,  that  this  has  been  done  by  Christians  ignorantly, 
not  knowing  often  that  those  for  whom  they  voted  were  duelists,  or  in- 
considerately, not  realizing  t])e  enormity  of  the  crime — why  did  they 
not  know — why  did  they  not  consider  ?     The  reason  is  obvious — 

"Vice  is  a  monster  of  so  frightful  mien, 
As,  to  be  hated,  needs  but  to  be  seen  ; 
Yet,  seen  too  oft,  familiar  wth  her  face. 
We  first  endure,  then  pity,  then  embrace." 

This  is  precisely  our  alarming  state.  We  have  sunk  through  all  these 
grades  of  moral  degradation.  We  endure,  we  pity,  we  embrace  mur- 
derers.    And  what  will  be  next  ?     A  total  apathy  to  crime. 

What  is  done,  therefore,  must  be  done  quickly.  Let  the  maxims  of 
dueling  once  break  out,  and  spread  in  the  country,  and  infect  the  rising 
gcjieration  ;  let  the  just  abhorrence  of  the  community  be  a  little  more 
effaced  by  the  growing  frequency  of  the  crime,  and  we  are  undone. 
There  will  be  no  place  to  make  a  stand.  Our  liberties  will  be  lost — our 
bands  will  become  brass,  and  our  fetters  iron — no  man's  life  will  be  safe 
— the  laws  of  the  land  will  be  a  nullity — every  man  must  tremble,  and 
walk  softly,  and  speak  softly,  lest  he  implicate  his  neighboi-'s  honor,  and 
]iut  in  jeopardy  his  o'vni  life  ;  and  dueling  will  become  as  common,  as  ir- 
remediable, and  as  little  thought  of,  as  assassination  is  in  S[)ain,  in  Italy, 
and  South  America. 

Then,  indeed,  will  the  descriptions  of  the  prophet  be  horiibly  realized. 
Judgment  icUl  he  turned  aicay  hac'kioard— justice  icill  stand  afar  off-:- 
truth  iclll  fall  in  the  street^  and  equity  he  unahle  to  enter.  Yea,  truth 
'icill  fail,  and  he  that  departeth  from  evil,  loill  make  himself  a  prey. 
Kone  will  call  for  justice — revenge  and  murder  will  be  the  order  of  the 
day.  We  shall  grope  for  the  vmll  as  the  hlind — ice  shall  stumhle  at 
noon-day  as  in  the  night — toe  shall  he  in  desolate  jylaces  as  dead  men. 

Shall  Ave  sit  and  calmly  await  the  approach  of  these  evils  ?  Shall  we 
bow  our  neck  to  the  yoke  ?  Shall  we  trust  our  hands  into  the  manacles 
preparing  for  them  ?  What  if  these  evils  may  not  be  realized  in  our 
day — have  we  no  regard  to  posterity  ?  What  if  every  man,  woman  and 
cliild  may  not  fall  in  a  duel — is  there  nothing  to  be  dreaded  from  the 
sword,  or  pestilence,  or  famine,  because  they  do  not  extirpate  our  race  ? 
The  facility  with  which,  in  the  way  proposed,  this  evil  may  be  sup- 
pressed, will  render  us  forever  inexcusable — will  constitute  us  partakers 
in  the  sin,  if  we  do  not  make  the  attempt.     *     *     * 

Finally,  the  appointment  of  duelists  to  office  will  justly  offend  the  Most 
High,  and  assuredly  call  down  upon  us  tlie  judgments  of  heaven. 

Dueling  is  a  great  national  sin  ;  with  the  cxcejition  of  a  small  section 
of  the  Union,  the  whole  land  is  defiled  with  blood.  From  the  lakes  of 
the  North  to  the  plain.-?  of  Georgia,  is  heard  the  voice  oflamontalion  and 


•418  LYMAN    BEECHER. 

WO  ;  the  cries  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless.  This  work  of  desolation 
is  performed  often  by  men  in  office — by  the  appointed  guardians  of  life 
and  liberty.  On  the  floor  of  Congress,  challenges  have  been  threatened, 
if  not  given ;  and  thus  powder  and  ball  have  been  introduced  as  the 
auxiliaries  of  deliberation  and  argument.  O,  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish 
it  not  in  the  streets  of  Askelon  !  Alas !  it  is  too  late  to  conceal  our  in- 
ilimy  ;  the  sun  hath  shined  on  our  guilt,  and  the  eye  of  God  with  brighter 
beams  surveys  the  whole.  He  beholds,  and  he  will  punish.  His  quiver 
is  full  of  arrows,  his  sword  is  impatient  of  confinement ;  ten  thousand 
plagues  stand  ready  to  execute  his  wrath  ;  conflagration,  tempest,  earth- 
quake, war,  famine,  and  pestilence  wait  his  command  only,  to  cleanse  the 
land  from  blood  ;  to  involve  in  one  common  ruin,  both  the  murderer  and 
those  who  tolerate  his  crimes.  Atheists  may  scofi",  but  there  is  a  God — 
a  God  who  governs  the  earth  in  righteousness — an  avenger  of  crimes — 
the  supporter  and  destroyer  of  nations.  And  as  clay  is  in  the  hand  of 
the  potter,  so  are  the  nations  of  the  earth  in  the  hand  of  God.  At  what 
instant  he  speaks  concerning  a  nation,  to  pluck  up,  to  pull  down,  and 
destroy  it ;  if  that  nation  repent,  God  will  avert  the  impending  judgment. 
And  at  what  instant  he  shall  speak  concerning  a  nation,  to  build  and  to 
plant  it,  if  it  do  evil  in  his  sight,  he  will  arrest  the  intended  blessing  and 
send  forth  judgments  in  its  stead.  Be  not  deceived — the  greater  our 
present  mercies  and  seeming  security,  the  greater  is  the  guilt  of  our  re- 
bellion, and  the  more  certain,  swift,  and  awful,  will  be  our  calamity. 
We  are  murderers,  a  nation  of  murderers,  while  we  tolerate  and  reward 
the  perpetrators  of  the  crime.  And  shall  "I  not  visit  for  these  things, 
saith  the  Lord  ?    Shall  not  my  soul  be  avenged  on  such  a  nation  as  this  ? 

But,  it  will  be  said,  especially  in  cases  of  contested  elections,  if  yon 
refuse  to  vote  for  this  man  because  he  is  a  duelist,  his  opponent,  a  Avorse 
man,  will  come  in.  A  worse  man  can  not  come  in.  The  duelist  is  a 
murderer ;  and  is  a  man's  difference  from  you  in  political  opinion  more 
{■riminal  than  murder  ?  And  will  you  vote  for  a  murderer,  a  despot, 
proud,  haughty,  and  revengeful,  to  keep  out  another  man,  perhaps  equally 
(jualified  and  of  a  fair  fame,  merely  because  he  thinks  not  in  politics  ex- 
actly as  you  do  ?  To  what  will  such  bigotry  lead  ?  There  will  soon  be 
no  crime  too  gross  to  be  overlooked  by  party  men ;  and  no  criminal  too 
loathsome  and  desperate  to  float  into  office  on  the  tide  of  party.  When 
the  violence  of  competition  rises  so  high  in  our  country,  as  to  lead  par- 
ties in  their  struggles  for  victory  to  tread  down  the  laws  of  God,  disre- 
garding entirely  the  moral  characters  of  candidates  for  office  ;  if  then- 
being  on  our  side  will  sanctify  their  crimes,  and  push  them,  reeking  with 
blood,  into  office ;  the  time  is  not  distant  when  we  shall  have  no  liberties 
to  protect.  Such  a  people  are  too  wicked  to  be  free,  and  God  will  curse 
them,  by  leaving  them  to  eat  of  the  fruit  of  their  way. 

But  suppose  the  opponent  of  the  duelist,  beside  his  political  heresy,  to 
be  a  bad  man  also,  and  guilty  of  the  samie  crime  ?     If  I  do  not  vote  for 


THE     REMEDY    FOR    DUELIL^TG.  419 

tlie  man  on  my  side  in  politics,  will  not  this  be  helping  his  antagonist,  and 
will  not  this  be  as  bad  as  if  I  voted  directly  ?  No.  You  are  account' 
able  for  your  own  conduct  only.  If  other  people  put  into  office  a  bad 
man,  whom  you  could  not  keep  out  by  voting  for  one  equally  bad,  for 
their  conduct  you  are  not  accountable.  It  is  certainly  a  difterent  thing 
whether  a  vile  man  comes  into  power  hy  your  agency  directly,  or  in  spite 
of  it.  But  suppose  the  duelist,  in  all  respects  excepting  this  crime,  is  a 
better  man  than  his  opponent,  of  two  evils  may  we  not  choose  the  least  ? 
Yes ;  of  two  natural  evils  you  may  ;  if  you  must  lose  a  finger  or  an  arm, 
cut  off  the  finger ;  but  of  two  sinful  things  you  may  choose  neither ; 
and,  therefore,  you  may  not  vote  for  one  bad  man,  a  murderei",  to  keep 
out  another  bad  man,  though  even  a  worse  one.  It  is  to  do  evil,  that 
good  may  come ;  and  of  all  who  do  this,  the  apostle  declares,  "  their 
damnation  is  just."  What  must  must  we  do  then  in  those  cases  where 
the  character  of  the  candidates  is  such,  as  it  would  be  shiful  to  vote  for 
either  of  them  ?  Vote  for  neither,  and  in  future  you  will  not  be  insulted 
by  such  candidates  for  suflVage.  Let  those  w^ho  stand  behind  the  curtain 
and  move  the  springs,  know  that  you  have  consciences,  and  that  you  will 
be  guided  by  them  ;  and  they  will  take  care  that  you  shall  not  be  com- 
pelled to  throw  away  your  votes. 

But  j)erhaps  the  liberties  of  our  country  are  at  stake — might  we  not 
for  once,  and  on  such  an  emergency,  vote  for  a  duelist  ?  The  same  song 
has  been  sung  at  every  election  these  twenty  years,  and  by  each  party. 
It  is  an  electioneering  trick  to  excite  your  fears,  to  awaken  your  preju- 
dices,  to  inflame  your  passions,  to  overpower  your  consciences,  and  to 
get  your  vote  whether  right  or  wrong.  But  suppose  your  liberties  are 
in  danger ;  if  they  are  so  far  gone,  as  to  depend  on  the  election  of  one 
man,  and  that  man  a  tyrant — a  murderer — they  are  gone  irretrievably. 
Beside  the  absurdity  of  appointing  a  murderer  to  protect  life,  and  a  deS' 
pot  to  protect  liberty,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  God  is  our  only  effi- 
cient protector.  Men  are  merely  instruments  ;  but  will  God  bless  such 
instruments,  selected  in  contempt  of  his  aitthority,  and  rescued  from  the 
sword  of  his  justice.?  All  attempts  to  avert  perdition  by  means  at  war 
Avith  the  precepts  of  heaven,  will  prove  abortive  ;  you  hatch  the  cocka- 
trice cgg^  and  weave  the  web  of  the  spider.  If  your  liberties  are  in 
danger,  reform — pray — and  call  to  your  aid  men  of  rectitude,  men  of 
clean  hands,  whose  counsels  God  may  be  expected  to  bless. 

"  But  it  is  difficult  to  know  in  all  cases  who  are  good  men."  True  , 
and  will  you  therefore  vote  for  those  whom  you  know  to  be  bad  men  ? 
Rather  discard  those  whom  you  know  to  be  bad,  and  scrutinize  critically 
the  characters  of  those  who  profess  to  be  good,  and  after  your  utmost 
care,  you  will  be  sufficiently  exposed  to  deception. 

But  the  reply  is  ever  at  hand,  "  If  they  will  fight,  let  them  fio;ht  and 
kill  each  other  ;  the  sooner  we  get  rid  of  them  the  better."  .^Vnd  are 
you  prepared  to  intrust  your  lives  and  all  dear  to  you,  to  such  men  ;  te 


420  LYMAN    BEECHER. 

men  whom  you  confess  to  be  a  nuisance,  and  whose  death  would  be  a 
public  blessing  ?  Beside,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  killing  all ;  the  ex- 
ample of  the  duehst  is  a  wide-spreading  contagion.  Every  duel  that  is 
fought  inspires  twenty,  perhaps  a  hundred,  with  the  same  accursed 
frenzy  ;  and  the  blood  of  duelists  is  the  seed  of  dueling,  as  really  as  the 
blood  of  martyrs  was  the  seed  of  the  church. 

"  But  why  so  inveterate  against  dueling  in  particular  ?"  Because,  at 
present  it  is  a  great  and  alarming  national  sin ;  because  no  other  crime, 
with  such  shameless  effi'ontery,  bids  defiance  to  the  laws  of  God  and 
man ;  because  no  other  crime  is  so  palliated,  justified,  and  with  such 
impunity  sanctioned  by  the  example  of  the  great;  and,  of  course,  no 
other  crime  has  so  alarming  an  aspect  upon  the  principles  of  our  young- 
men,  and  the  moral  sensibilities  of  our  country.  I  may  add,  that  no 
other  description  of  criminals,  if  they  escape  with  impunity,  may  publish 
their  crimes,  glory  in  their  shame,  and  still  be  rewarded  with  the  con- 
fidence and  honors  of  their  country.  The  crisis  is  an  awful  one;  and 
this  apathy  to  a  crime  of  the  deepest  dye,  is  a  prelude  of  approaching 
death.  But,  though  there  is  a  peculiar  reason  for  attempting  to  arouse 
the  listless  attention  of  the  public  to  this  sin,  there  are  decisive  objections 
to  the  appointment  to  ofiice  of  any  immoral  man.  The  prodigal,  the 
drunkard,  the  profane,  the  Sabbath-breaker,  the  adulterer,  the  gambler, 
are  all  disqualified  to  act  as  legislators;  and  no  man  with  an  enlightened 
conscience  can  vote  for  them. 

"  But  if  we  are  so  critical  in  our  scrutiny  of  character,  we  shall  never 
be  able  to  find  men  duly  qualified  to  manage  our  affairs."  Most  humili- 
ating confession  !  But  how  has  it  come  to  pass  (if  true)  that  so  many 
public  characters  are  immoral  men  ?  It  is  because  we,  the  people,  have  not 
even  requested  them  to  behave  better.  We  have  never  made  it  necessary 
for  them  to  be  moral.  We  have  told  them,  and  we  have  told  our  youth 
who  are  rising  to  active  life,  that  private  character  is  a  useless  thing,  as 
it  respects  the  attainment  of  our  suffi-age.  We  have  told  them,  that,  if 
they  pleased,  they  might  associate  for  drunkenness  and  midnight  revelry, 
pour  contempt  upon  the  institutions  of  religion,  neglect  the  worship  of 
God,  and  spend  the  Sabbath  in  gambling  and  intemperance,  and  still  be 
esteemed  hallowed  patriots.  If  it  be  true,  that  a  strict  scrutiny  of  char- 
acter would  exile  from  oflSce  many  who  now  fill  public  stations,  it  is  our 
criminal  negligence  that  has  brought  this  to  pass.  But  the  inference, 
that  setting  up  moral  character  as  a  test  would  leave  us  destitute  of 
proper  candidates,  is  groundless :  it  is  the  very  way  to  multiply  them. 
Let  it  once  be  made  known,  that  a  fair  private  character  is  indispensable 
to  the  attainment  of  public  suftrage,  and  reformations  will  take  place. 
And  besides  this,  our  young  men  will  be  growing  up  to  habits  of  virtue 
under  the  guardian  inffuence  of  this  restraint.  At  first,  you  may 
encounter  a  little  selfdenial,  by  dismissing  men  of  irregular  lives,  in 
whom  you  have  been  accustomed  to  confide.     But  their  places  will  soon 


THE    REMEDY    FOR    DUELING.  421 

be  supplied  by  a  Lost  of  men  of  fair  fame,  and  better  qualified  to  serve 
their  country. 

But,  allowing  that  a  proper  exercise  of  suffrage  would  restrain  fiora 
the  practice  of  fighting  duels  all  actually  concerned,  or  expecting  to  be 
concerned,  in  civil  life  ;  how  should  this  reclaim  those  who  have  no  such 
expectation,  and  are  no  way  affected  by  the  votes  of  the  people  ?  How 
would  it  restrain  militaiy  and  naval  officers,  men  usually  the  most  ad- 
dicted to  the  crime  Ans.  1.  The  prospect  of  success,  though  an  en- 
couragement, is  not  the  chief  ground  of  obligation  to  withhold  our  votes 
from  duelists.  It  is  sinful  to  vote  for  them,  even  though  withholding  our 
votes  would  not  reclaim  an  individual.  2.  If  the  method  projDosed  would 
reclaim  even  men  immediately  concerned,  or  expecting  to  be  concerned 
in  government,  the  good  effected  Avould  be  great.  Laws  do  much  good, 
although  they  do  not  entirely  extinguish  crimes.  3.  The  example  of 
men  in  civil  life,  subtracted  from  the  support  of  this  crime  and  an-ayed 
against  it,  would  render  the  practice  dishonorable  among  gentlemen  of 
every  description.  Military  officers  are  citizens  as  well  as  officers  ;  and 
that  conduct  which  is  deemed  disgraceful  among  gentlemen  in  civil  life, 
will  soon  be  felt  to  be  such,  and  will  be  abandoned  by  militaiy  and  naval 
officers.  And  Avere  such  an  effect  less  certain,  it  might  be  made  certain 
by  the  exercise  of  that  discretion  which  the  civil  ruler  possesses  in  the 
appontment  of  officers.  Let  our  legislators  cease  to  fight  duels,  and  de- 
sire to  extinguish  the  practice  of  dueling,  and  they  would  soon  fill  the 
army  and  the  navy  with  commanders  who  would  be  disposed  and  able, 
to  second  their  views. 

And  now  let  me  ask  you  solemnly,  with  these  considerations  in  view, 
will  you  persist  in  your  attachment  to  these  guilty  men  ?  Will  you  any 
longer,  either  deliberately  or  thoughtlessly,  vote  for  them  ?  Will  you 
renounce  allegiance  to  your  Maker,  and  cast  the  Bible  behind  your 
back  ?  Will  you  confide  in  men  void  of  the  fear  of  God  and  destitute 
of  moral  piinciple  ?  Will  you  intrust  life  to  iruEDERERS,  and  liberty  to 
DESPOTS  ?  Are  you  jDatriots,  and  will  you  constitute  those  legislators, 
who  despise  you,  and  despise  equal  laws,  and  wage  war  with  the  eternal 
principles  of  justice?  Are  you  Christians,  and,  by  upholding  duelists, 
will  you  deluge  the  land  with  blood,  and  fill  it  with  widows  and  with 
orphans?  Will  you  aid  in  the  prostration  of  justice — in  the  escape  of 
criminals — in  the  extiiiction  of  liberty  ?  Will  you  place  in  the  chair  of 
state,  in  the  senate,  or  on  the  bench  of  justice,  men  who,  if  able,  would 
murder  you  for  speaking  truth  ?  Shall  your  elections  turn  on  expert 
shooting,  and  your  deliberative  body  become  an  host  of  armed  men  ? 
Will  you  destroy  public  morality  by  tolerating,  yea,  by  rewarding  the 
most  infamous  crimes  ?  Will  you  teach  your  children  that  there  is  no 
guilt  in  murder  ?  Will  you  instruct  them  to  think  lightly  of  dueling, 
and  train  them  up  to  destroy  or  be  destroyed  in  the  bloody  field  ?  Will 
you  bestow  yonr  suffrage,  when  you  know  that  by  withholding  it,  you 


422  LYMAN    BEECHER. 

may  arrest  this  deadly  evil — when  this,  too,  is  the  only  way  in  which  it 
can  be  done,  and  Avhen  the  present  is,  perhaps,  the  only  period  in  which 
resistance  can  avail ;  when  the  remedy  is  so  easy — so  entirely  in  your 
power  ;  and  when  God,  if  you  do  not  punish  these  guilty  men,  will  most 
inevitably  punish  you  ? 

If  the  widows  and  the  orphans,  which  this  wasting  evil  has  created, 
and  is  yearly  multiplying,  might  all  stand  before  you,  could  you  Avitness 
their  tears,  or  listen  to  their  details  of  anguish  ?  Should  they  point  to 
the  murderers  of  their  fathers,  their  husbands  and  their  children,  and  lift 
up  their  voice,  and  imploi"e  your  aid  to  arrest  an  evil  which  had  made 
them  desolate,  could  you  disregard  their  cry  ?  Befoi-e  their  eyes,  could 
you  approach  the  poll,  and  patronize  by  your  vote  the  destroyers  of  their 
peace  ?  Had  you  beheld  a  dying  father  conveyed,  bleedmg  and  agon- 
izing to  his  distracted  family — had  you  heard  their  piercing  shrieks,  and 
witnessed  their  frantic  agony — would  you  reward  the  savage  man  who 
had  plunged  them  in  distress  ?  Had  the  duelist  destroyed  your  neigh- 
bor— had  your  own  father  been  killed  by  the  man  who  soUcits  your  suf- 
frage— had  your  son,  laid  low  by  his  hand,  been  brought  to  your  door,  pale 
in  death  and  weltering  in  blood — would  you  then  think  the  crime  a  small 
one  ?  Would  you  honor  with  your  confidence,  and  elevate  to  power  by 
your  vote,  the  giulty  monster  ?  And  what  would  you  think  of  your 
neighbors,  if,  regardless  of  your  agony,  they  sliould  reward  liim  ?  And 
yet,  such  scenes  of  unutterable  anguish  are  multiplied  every  year.  Every 
year  the  duelist  is  cutting  down  the  neighbor  of  somebody.  Every  year, 
and  many  times  in  the  year,  a  father  is  brought  dead  or  dying  to  his 
family,  or  a  son  laid  breathless  at  the  feet  of  his  parents ;  and  every  year 
you  are  patroirizing  by  your  votes  the  men  who  commit  these  crimes,  and 
looking  with  cold  indifference  upon,  and  even  mocking,  the  sorrows  of 
your  neighbor.  Beware  !  I  admonish  you  to  beware,  and  especially  such 
of  yovi  as  have  promising  sons  preparing  for  active  life,  lest,  having  no 
feeling  for  the  sorrows  of  another,  you  may  be  called  to  weep  for  your 
OAvn  sorrow ;  lest  your  sons  fall  by  the  hand  of  the  very  murderer  for 
Tt-hom  you  vote,  or  by  the  hand  of  some  one  whom  his  exami:»le  has 
trained  to  the  work  of  blood. 

With  such  considerations  before  you,  Avhy  do  you  wish  to  vote  for 
such  men?  What  have  they  done  for  you,  what  can  they  do,  that  bet- 
ter men  can  not  as  happily  accomplish  ?  And  will  you  incur  all  this 
guilt,  and  hazard  all  these  consequences  for  nothing?  Have  you  no 
religion,  no  conscience,  no  love  to  your  country,  no  attachment  to  lib- 
erty, no  humanity,  no  sympathy,  no  regard  to  your  own  welfare  in  this 
life,  and  no  fear  of  consequences  in  the  life  to  come  ?  O,  my  country- 
men, awake !  Awake  to  crimes  which  are  your  disgrace,  to  miseries 
which  know  not  a  limit,  to  judgments  which  will  make  you  desolate! 


J 


DIbCOURSE    XXII. 

JAMES     ROMEYN. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Romeyn  (he  declines  the  Doctorate)  was  born  at  Blooming  Grove, 
Rensselaer  county,  New  York  State,  30th  of  September,  1797.  His  father  was ' 
Rev.  James  V.  C.  Romeyn,  a  minister  of  the  Reformed  Dutch  church.  Jlis  father 
also  was  a  minister,  and  three  of  his  brothers,  of  whom  only  one  survives.  He 
made  a  profession  of  religion  in  the  united  congregation  of  Hackensack  and  Schraal- 
enburg,  of  which  his  father  was  the  pastor,  in  August,  1816.  His  training  was  a 
religious  one,  the  parents  being  piously  considerate,  and  blending  Christian  faithful- 
ness and  tenderness  in  their  whole  domestic  policy.  His  mother's  characteristic 
was  energy^  always  under  the  control  of  kindness  and  a  lofty  integrity.  His  father 
Avas  a  mild  man,  but  of  great  firmness.  He  never  wrote  to  his  sou,  during  his  col- 
lege course,  so  much  as  a  note  accompanying  even  a  bundle  of  clothes,  without  in- 
corporating in  its  business  contents,  some  reference,  or  prece^jt,  or  persuasive  allusion 
at  least,  to  his  obligations  to  his  Grod  and  Saviour.  He  graduated  at  Columbia 
College,  New  York  city,  in  1816,  and  received  his  theological  education  in  the 
seminary,  at  New  Brunswick  N  J^  under  the  instruction  of  Rev.  John  H.  Living- 
ston. D.  D ,  and  his  helpers.  He  was  licensed  by  the  classis  of  New  Brunswick, 
May,  1816. 

The  first  pastoral  charge  of  Mr.  Romeyn,  was  at  Nassau,  Rensselaer  county. 
New  York,  where  he  settled  December,  1820,  and  was  ordained  the  beginning  ol' 
March  following.  He  removed  from  Nassau,  November,  1827,  to  Six  Mile  Run, 
New  Jersey,  where  he  continued  until  May,  1833,  having  succeeded  Rev.  Dr. 
James  S.  Cannon.  The  service  was  very  arduous,  and  with  broken  health  he  resigned 
in  April,  1833,  when  he  removed  to  Hackensack,  and  served  the  congregation  at 
that  place,  during  three  years  and  a  half.  He  afterward  accepted  a  call  to  Cats- 
kill,  in  Greene  county.  New  York,  on  the  third  Sabbath  in  November,  1836,  and 
entered  upon  the  pastoral  chaige.  Here  he  was  brought  very  low  by  sickness,  and 
compelled  to  resign  in  Januaiy,  1841,  when  he  retired,  without  having  accepted  a 
call,  to  Leeds — in  Greene  county,  agreeing  to  serve  the  people  there  as  best  he  could. 
•After  two  years  he  removed  to  Bergen  Point,  on  the  Kills,  near  New  York,  hoping 
that  the  influence  of  the  sea  air  would  prove  restorative,  but  severe  labor  again  brought 
liim  to  such  a  state  that  he  was  advised  to  abandon  preaching,  which  he  accordingly 
did  in  May,  1850.  During  that  sunmier  his  health,  though  feeble,  became  gradually 
better,  and  circumstances  having  led  him,  in  October  of  that  year,  to  visit  Geneva, 
New  York,  the  church  there  pressed  upon  him  an  earnest  and  unanimous  call.  He 
preached,  however,  but  four  Sabbaths  as  their  pastor;  for,  on  the  26th  of  Novem 
biM-,  18")0,  he  was  struck  down  with  paralysis,  and  on  the  eleventh  day  after  hm 
attack,  was  given  over  by  his  physicians.     God,  however,  had  mercy,  and  called 


4,24:  JAMES    ROMEYN. 

him  back  from  the  deepest  shadows  of  the  dark  valley,  and  has  hitherto,  amid 
much  infirmity,  kept  him  alive.  As  soon  as  he  could  be  removed,  he  was  taken  to 
New  Brunswick,  New  Jersey,  where  he  expects  to  end  his  days ;  having  given 
over  all  hope  of  any  further  restoratives.  He  has  preached  but  few  times  since, 
and  with  great  effort. 

Mr.  Eomeyn  was  once  called  to  be  Professor  of  Logic  and  Rhetoric  in  Eutger's 
College,  New  Jersey,  but  declined.  He  also  had  invitations  to  settle  in  several 
important  charges,  but  a  consciousness  of  inability  to  undergo  the  labor,  induced  him 
to  decline  any  situations  involving  severe  mental  toil  or  bodily  exertion. 

He  has  published  two  sermons,  the  one  before  the  General  Synod  of  the  Eeformea 
Dutch  church,  in  June,  1842,  entitled  "  The  Crisis ;  or,  the  claims  upon  the  Church  of 
God,"  and  "  A  Plea  for  the  Evangelical  Press,"  before  the  American  Tract  Society, 
in  October,  1843,  at  their  pubhc  Deliberative  Meeting.  In  both  cases  he  furnished 
them  for  publication,  by  request  of  the  bodies  before  which  they  were  delivered. 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  Eomeyn  has  never  occupied  as  conspicuous  a  position  as  his 
abihties  merited — ^partly  from  his  shattered  health,  and  partly  because  he  nervously 
shunned  publicity.  His  deUvery  was  very  rapid  and  impetuous,  which  impaired 
the  effect  of  his  sermons,  but  his  mind  was  engine-like  in  its  workings. 

A  cotemporary  says  of  him,  "  I  think  that  I  see  him  now,  liis  tall  form  (which, 
in  face  at  least,  I  fancy  to  have  been  Lawrence  Sterne's)  strung  up  to  the  highest 
nervous  tension,  and  his  tongue  pouring  forth  a  lava-tide  of  burning  eloquence,  the 
most  powerful  to  which  I  have  ever  listened."  "  Powerful,"  he  adds,  "  is  just  the 
word.  I  have  heard  men  more  remarkable  for  literary  polish,  more  original  in 
fancy,  more  erudite  in  learning,  more  winning  in  pathos.  But  for  the  grander  sub- 
hmities  of  eloquence,  I  never  heard  his  equal.  His  denunciations  were  awful.  He 
abounded  in  this  style.  .  I  have  heard  of  his  preaching  his  first  sermon  in  some 
town  or  other,  on  the  text,  '  In  fortydays  and  Nineveh,  shall  be  destroyed,'  of  which 
the  effect  was  most  startling.  He  abounded  and  excelled  in  illustration.  He  laid 
all  literature  and  knowledge  under  contribution  for  this  purpose." 

Although,  •  for  the  most  part,  obscurely  located,  Mr.  Eomeyn  has  exercised  a 
commanding  influence  on  the  church  with  which  he  is  connected,  and  his  name  will 
last  on  its  records  and  in  its  memory  for  many  generations.  As  a  Christian  man, 
so  long  under  the  rod  of  affliction,  he  has  evinced  a  high  order  of  religious  charac- 
ter. Although  a  Boanerges,  like  John,  he  has  been  pecuharly  susceptible  always  to 
the  tender  associations  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  His  chief  characteristic  and  grace, 
however,  as  a  Christian,  has  been  his  zeal.  Seldom  has  the  cause  of  redemption 
enlisted  a  more  earnest,  laborious,  and  faithful  worker.  Never  did  he  bring  to  the 
altar  that  which  cost  him  nothing.  His  was  a  flaming  spirit  of  zealous  love,  and 
his  tongue  had  God  touched  as  with  a  live  coal.  In  his  prostration,  his  soul  is 
absorbed  in  his  Master's  work,  and  his  gaze  is  steadfastly  fastened  upon  "  the  rest 
that  remains  for  the  people  of  God." 

Borne  down  by  his  many  infirmities,  and  amid  much  weakness,  Mr.  Eomeyn  has 
prepared,  for  this  work,  the  valuable  sermon  which  is  given  below.  A  desire  to 
speak  again  to  the  living,  and  leave  behind  him  one  more  earnest  appeal  in  belialf 
of  the  precious  Saviour,  has  sustained  and  animated  him  in  this  arduous  effort. 
It  was  originally  preached  at  an  ordination,  and  is  probably  his  last  message,  before 
entering,  through  grace,  into  the  "  exceeding  joy"  of  which  he  speaks  in  his  last 
words. 


ENMITY    TO    THE     CROSS     OF     CHRIST.  425 


ENMITY    TO    THE    CROSS     OF    CHRIST. 

"  For  many  walk  of  whom  I  have  told  you  often,  and  now  tell  you  even  weeping,  thai 
they  are  the  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ." — Piiilippiaxs,  iii.  18. 

EttiiiTEEN  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  there  appeared  in  Judca  a  man 
called  Jesas  Christ.  Referring  to  the  predictions  of  the  Old  Testament, 
he  claimed  their  fulfillment  in  himself.  When  the  Jews  sijoke  of  their 
expected  Messiah,  he  said,  "Tarn  Ae."  Never  before  nor  since  did  onr 
nature  present  such  another  embodiment  of  wisdom,  power,  and  good- 
ness. His  eye  penetrated  the  heart.  His  word  of  rebuke  con  (bunded 
opposition.  Devils  were  awed  and  fled  at  his  presence.  He  walked  upon 
the  waves  of  the  sea  as  though  they  were  a  pavement  of  adamant.  The 
grave  gave  up  its  prey  at  his  command,  and  death  had  no  sting  for  those 
Mhom  he  pronounced  "  blessed."  He  was  often  seen  to  weep  ;  it  is  not 
recorded  that  he  ever  smiled ;  and  once  only  is  it  said  of  him  that  he  "  re- 
joiced in  spirit."  Pomp  he  scorned,  power  he  defied.  The  poor  heard 
him  gladly.  The  face  of  misery  brightened  with  the  smile  of  hope,  when 
it  was  announced  that  "  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  passing  by  ;"  and  blind- 
ness turned  its  sorrowing  face,  and  rolled  its  sightless  eye-balls,  in  the 
direction  where  its  quickened  ear  heard  his  voice  and  footsteps.  He 
taught  lessons  of  the  Godhead  of  mighty  grandeur,  and  divhie  law,  stern 
in  requisition,  such  as  confounded  the  sceptic,  and  distui-bed  the  hypo- 
crite, and  changed  the  night  of  the  lover  of  pleasure  into  fear.  Human 
enmity  tolerated  him  only  during  a  three  years'  ministry.  He  was  tried 
before  a  lawless  tribunal,  condemned  on  the  testimony  of  suborned  wit- 
nesses, crucified  as  a  malefiictor,  and  had  his  grave  assigned  with  the 
wicked.  After  laying  three  days  in  the  grave,  it  is  undeniable  that  he 
was  seen  alive  again,  and  after  forty  days  he  disappeared  fi'om  earth. 
Those  who  knew  him  well  saw  him  i-ise  on  a  bright  cloud  toward  heaven, 
and  stood  gazing,  entranced,  in  that  direction  when  he  passed  from  their 
view.  It  is  to  Jiim,  reference  is  made  in  the  text,  as  though  to  be  ene- 
mies of  his  cross  was  the  sum  of  all  that  is  base,  the  greatest  of  all 
inconsistencies,  and  the  seal  of  perdition. 

Remark  the  sj^cc-ial  form  and  significance  of  the  expression,  "  enemies 
of  the  cross  of  Christ."  These  few  and  comprehensive  words,  designate 
the  mediatorial  work  of  the  Lord  Jesus  as  a  Saviour  from  the  power  and 
guilt  of  sin,  according  to  the  inspired  declaration,  that  in  him  we  have 
redemption  through  his  blood.  Many  a  man  would  resent  the  imputa- 
tion of  being  an  enemy  to  Jesus,  who  would  nevertheless  demolish  his 
cross;  who  speci;dly  hates  rY  and  its  relation  to  his  precei)ts,  doctrines, 
promises,  and  hopes,  and  to  whom  the  infusion  of  the  wood  of  the  cross, 
hi  the  scheme  of  his  salvation,  is  the  bitter,  hated,  and  revolting  ingredient. 
Now,  in  order  to  state  who  they  are,  we  must  take  along  witli  us,  as  a 


426  JA^ES    ROMETN. 

clew,  the  question,  "7;^  what  character^  and  for  lohat  purpose^  is  Christ 
set  before  us?"  Those  who  have  not  received  him  in  that  character,  and 
for  that  purpose,  despise  and  reject  him;  and  are,  therefore,  '•'•enemies?'' 
This  is  simple,  logical,  and  incontrovertibly  true,  and  contains  our  whole 
plan. 

I.  He  is  officially  set  forth  as  the  "  light  of  the  world'''' — the  great 
teacher  sent  from  God.  There  is  not  a  true  conception  of  Deity,  nor  a 
warrantable  hope  for  eternity,  that  does  not  come  from  him.  Those, 
therefore,  who  reject  him,  or  are  indifferent  to  his  divine  teachings,  have 
here  a  fatal  mark  of  designation.  Now,  when  men  personally  disclaim 
the  authority  of  the  gospel ;  actively  try  to  hinder  its  reception  by  others; 
openly  or  covertly  deny  its  truth,  or  undermine  it  by  glosses  and  con- 
structions, or  weaken  in  any  way  its  hold  upon  the  conscience ;  when 
they  neglect  it,  or  remain  ignorant  of  it,  or  give  only  a  qualified  assent 
to  it,  or  when  they  receive  anything  contrary  to,  or  beside,  or  subversive 
of  it,  any  thing  more  or  less  than  it,  they  come  within  the  description  of 
the  text.  Christ  came  "  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth."  God's  name  is 
on  him,  and  it  is  equally  sinful  and  dangerous  to  deny  him  as  a  teacher 
come  from  God,  and  to  reject  the  atonement  he  has  made.  Doctrine  is 
the  theory  of  work — work  is  theory  applied  and  carried  into  operation, 
and  no  one  can  consistently  profess  to  reverence  a  work  who  rejects  the 
theory  of  it,  because  he  repudiates,  in  the  same  breathy  what  he  pro- 
fesses to  love.  Can  a  man  have  the  Holy  Spirit  who  denies  that  there 
is  a  Holy  Spirit  ?  Can  a  man  hope  to  be  saved  by  an  atonement,  who 
denies  the  necessity  and  fact  of  an  atonement,  and  rejects  the  very  sac- 
rifice by  which  it  is  made  ?  You  have  no  right  to  think  wrong.  I  have 
as  much-  right  to  steal  as  you  to  preach  that  it  is  right  to  steal  and  to 
covet.  Error  is  not  simply  a  negation^  a  defect,  but  something  positive, 
antagonistical,  and  active.  "  They  hated  me  without  a  cause."  Error 
is  sinful  and  has  a  mortal  root.  Heresy  is  ranked  among  the  works  of 
the  flesh.  Error  springs  from  a  bad  heart,  or  is  the  fruit  of  perverted 
intellect.  Men  are  not  simply  mistaken,  they  are  "  mllfully  ignorant." 
Men  are  accountable  for  their  faith  as  well  as  their  action.  The  heathen 
are  not  simply  ignorant  of  God,  but  they  have  a  dislike  and  disrelish  to- 
ward him.  "  They  do  not  Wee  to  retain  God  in  their  knowledge."  When 
the  fight  does  come,  they  shut  their  eyes,  and  so  the  fight  shines  on  the 
darkness,  and  is  not  comprehended  by  it.  There  is  something  specifically 
rejndsive  in  the  natural  heart  to  the  claims  of  the  gospel.  What  is  there 
in  the  lovely  and  loving  Jesus,  that  he  should  be  the  object  of  human 
hatred,  and  that,  too,  as  the  text  alleges,  in  the  very  act  of  pouring  out  his 
soul  unto  death  for  us?  Hence  we  do  not  reach  the  malady,  nor  so  much  as 
touch  the  seat  of  the  disease,  when  we  address  men  who  are  fiving  with- . 
out  God,  as  merely  theologically  torong,  and  aim  to  produce  reception 
of,  and  adherence  to,  the  dogmas  of  a  system. 


ENMITY     TO     THE     CROSS     OF     CHRIST.  42/ 

Correct  principles  are  as  essential  in  religion  as  any  where  else.  Manj 
suppose  that  to  advocate  strict  morality,  to  advocate  what  tliey  call  jDr«c- 
ticfd  religion^  is  the  sura  of  the  wiiole  matter,  and  that  opinions  are  in- 
different !  In  the  fullness  of  their  spurious  charity,  they  would  bury  the 
Bible,  of  w^hich  the  church  of  God  is  the  depository,  out  of  sight,  in 
forming  a  universal  church.  They  foiget  that  principles,  like  hei'bs  and 
seeds  at  creation,  have  a  distinctive  nature,  and  produce  "  after  their 
kind  ;"  that  a  machine  must  have  a  moving  power,  and  that  principles 
are  that  jDower,  in  the  heart  of  man  ;  that  actions  flow  from,  and  are  only 
exponents  of  what  the  principles  are  that  are  lodged  in  the  mind  and 
heart.  The  assertion  and  propagation  of  a  false  pnneiple  is  infinitely 
worse  than  the  performance  of  a  single  immoral  act.  This  is  wholesale 
mischief,  not  a  mere  wanton  marring  and  defacement  of  the  outer  wall, 
but  a  prying  up  and  dislodgement  of  the  corner-stone.  Such  men  do 
with  truth  and  order,  wdiat  Nero  proposed  to  do  with  the  Roman  people, 
when  he  wdshed  they  had  but  a  single  neck  that  he  might  dispatch 
them  with  a  single  bloAV.  And  is  the  danger  of  false  principles  less  in 
religion  than  in  politics  or  morals  ?  in  the  mechanical  arts  or  agricul- 
ture ?  "  Do  grapes  grow  from  thorns  ?"  Will  gravel-stones,  if  sown, 
produce  wheat  ?  Can  error  produce  the  effects  of  truth  ?  And  is  not 
the  great  promise  of  the  gospel  that  "  we  shall  be  led  into  all  truth  ?" 
Such  men  not  only  refuse  to  sit  down  xmder  the  tree  of  life  and  eat  its 
fruit,  and  enjoy  its  shade  themselves,  but  they  resolve  that  others  shall 
not,  and  cut  down  the  tree  itself  They  poison  a  fountain  at  which 
thousands,  in  every  age,  and  in  successive  ages,  may  drink  to  their  un- 
doino'.  Paine's  "Age  of  Reason"  has  penetrated  further  than  the 
Bible.  Missionaries  have  found  themselves  anticipated  by  it  in  far- 
distant  India.  Though  he  has  gone  to  eternity,  think  you  his  account 
will  be  closed  till  the  last  taint  of  his  poisonous  principles  shall  have 
reached  the  last  soul  whose  blight,  by  means  of  them,  God  will  permit? 
O  !  it  is  an  accumulating  perdition — •"  wrath  against  the  day  of  wrath"  is 
hourly  increasing.  Of  such  the  apostle  speaks  when  he  names  those  "who 
not  only  do  evil  themselves,  but  have  pleasure  in  those  who  commit  it." 
Error,  even  in  the  preceptive  parts  of  religion,  is  barely  consistent  w^ith 
Christian  character  and  hope.  "  Whosoever  shall  break  the  least  of  one 
of  tliese  commandments  and  teach  men  so,  the  same  shall  be  called  least 
in  the  kingdom  of  God."  Tremendous  responsibility  of  teachers  of  re- 
ligion !  My  brethren,  we  may,  by  inadvertently  inculcating  a  single  false 
principle,  like  Judas,  become  a  guide  to  those  that  would  take  Jesus. 
Ever  rebuke  the  lightness  with  which  the  proclamation  of  God's  eternal 
trutli  is  ofl;cn  spoken  of  as  "  a  talk,  a  shaking  of  the  sleeve."  An  angel 
in  heaven  might  stand  in  awe  and  hsten  wnth  trembling  reverence  at  re- 
ceiving a  message  from  God  to  be  delivered  on  earth ! 

In  the  light  of  these  considerations,  we  are  bold  to  say  that  an  enemy 
to  the  revelation  of  Christ,  is  an  enemy  to  the  cross  of  Christ,  and  to 


428  JAMES    ROMEYN. 

Christ  himself.  Christianity  has  withstood  the  bombardment  of  science, 
and,  of  late  years,  of  the  natural  sciences,  especially,  and  has  come  out 
of  the  conflict  not  only  unscathed  but  triumphant.  Strong  men,  in 
vast  numbers,  have  wheeled  into  her  ranks  as  defenders,  and  philosophy 
now  feels  assured  Avhen  she  can  quote  as  authority,  the  faithful  and 
true  sayings  of  God.  But  the  cause  is  not  yet  free  from  assault.  An 
insidious  and  shallow  but  imposing  infidelity  under  the  form  of  Ration- 
alism is  the  flood  that  is  now  setting  in.  Let  the  church  make  strong 
her  defenses  on  the  subject  of  Plenary  Inspiration  of  the  Scriptures. 
Herod,  who  sought  to  destroy,  is  dead,  but  Judas  is  coming  on  the 
stage  in  the  American  churches,  seeking  to  betray  the  Son  of  man 
with  a  kiss.  Men  who  about  half  believe  about  half  of  what  God  has 
spoken,  have  the  effi'onteiy  to  call  Christ  Master,  and  claim  to  be  recog- 
nized as  his  disciples!  Are  these  men  deceivers  cr  deceived? — avowing 
subjection  to  the  Author  and  Finisher  of  fliith,  in  the  same  breath  in 
which  they  call  him  whom  God  has  sent,  a  liar !  Nay,  let  God  be  true, 
and  every  man  speaking  in  contradiction  or  exception,  a  liar ;  and  the 
doctrine  still  ever  be,  "  ecery  word  of  the  Lord  is  tried.'''' 

II.  Christ  is  set  forth  in  the  Scriptures  as  j^ersoncdly  lovely.  Neglect 
of  Christ,  indifference  to  him,  simply  to  do  nothing  respecting  him,  to 
be  "  at  ease  in  Zion,"  and  ignore  his  claims.,  bespeaks  the  character  ot 
your  estimate,  and  is  positive  rejection  of  him  in  the  sight  of  God. 
There  are  few  avowedly  open  enemies  of  Christ  in  Christian  commuTiities. 
Yet  it  is  a  rare  congregation  where  the  majority,  or  a  great  proportion 
of  adults  in  it,  sit  down  at  his  table.  Often  there  is  hut  one,  if  one  of 
a  family — two  or  three  of  a  neighborhood.  Tested  by  the  Bible,  in  the 
light  of  eternity,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  rest.  "Were  there  not  (asked 
the  Saviour)  ten  cleansed  ?  but  where  are  the  nine  ?"  They  come  before 
God  as  his  people  come,  sit  before  him  as  his  people  sit,  but  although 
they  hear  his  words  they  do  them  not.  They  have  "  seen  their  natural 
face  in  a  glass,"  yet  "  go  their  way  and  forget  what  manner  of  men 
they  are."  Dead  in  sin,  they  dioell  at.,  but  are  content  not  to  be  written 
among  the  living  in,  Jerusalem.  They  know  the  theory  of  redemption, 
but  "  hold  the  truth  in  unrighteousness,"  and  are  strangers  to  its  power. 
They  know  all  we  can  tell  them,  but  their  understanding  is  unfruitful. 
They  believe,  but  then  faith  does  not  purify.  They  know  the  road  to 
heaven,  but  like  guide-boards,  they  move  not  themselves,  continue  sta- 
tionary, and  only  point  it  out  to  others.  They  contend  for  the  faith 
with  carnal  weapons,  aud  are  zealots — but  do  not  work  out  their  pwn 
salvation  and  "crucify  the  flesh."  They  teach  others;  through  good 
will,  benevolence,  and  the  spirit  of  inquiry,  they  often  become  active 
promoters  of  the  institutions  of  religion.  But  though  strenuous  and 
stiif  in  the  letter,  they  are  lax  in  the  design.  They  have,  it  may  be, 
strong  religious  predilections,  yet  not  faith  enough  to  say,  to  Jesus, 


ENMITY     TO     THE     CROSS     OF     CHRIST.  429 

"my  Lord  and  my  God,"  and  to  the  toorld  respecting  him^  "  this  is  my 
beloved."  Like  Noah's  workmen,  they  build  the  ark  and  furnish  the 
means  of  safety  to  others,  but  refusing  themselves  to  enter  are  drowned 
at  last.  The  Master  is  the  servant  of  sin,  the  servants  the  freemen  ot 
Christ.  We  preach,  you  hear,  admire,  assent,  but  hrive  no  more  emo- 
tion than  if  we  Avere  preaching  about  men  of  another  world,  or  giving 
fanciful  representations  on  some  other  topic  than  an  eternal  heaven  or 
an  eternal  hell.  You  believe,  you  Jcnovj^  that  there  is  no  happiness  in 
the  creature.  You  might  as  well  believe  the  contrary,  for  you  persist 
in  "hewing  out  broken  cisterns"  and  "forsaking  the  fountain  of  living 
waters."  You  confess  that  there  is  a  righteous  judgment  and  a  burning 
lake,  but  not  one  step  can  you  be  moved  to  take  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion. You  know  death  is  coming,  yet  you  slumber  on  and  cry  "  a  little 
more  sleep."  And  is  not  this  representation,  so  true  of  the  mass  who 
forbear  to  make  the  great  decision,  a  despisal  and  rejection  of  Christ  ? 
What  other  form  of  contumely  can  enmity  assume  ? 

Suppose  that  on  a  subject  of  earthly  concern,  we  were  to  come  to  con- 
sult your  opinion  and  invite  your  co-operation,  and  that  we  found  you 
engaged  in  reading  or  business,  and  that  when  we  jiroposed  our  subject, 
you  should  simply  say  nothing^  he  silent,  or  should  continue  absorbed  in 
what  you  was  engaged  with !  Might  we  not  warrantably  suppose  that 
you  construed  our  act  into  a  design  to  insult  you,  or  that  you  expressed 
indisposition  or  aversion  to  our  subject?  "Lo  (said  the  apostle  to  the 
Jews  of  Antioch),  we  turn  unto  the  Gentiles."  We  fear,  brethren,  even 
to  appear  to  intrude  into  "  the  secret  things  of  God,"  or  to  attempt  to 
wield  his  thunders  ;  but  let  the  truth  be  declared.  There  is  a  state  of 
mind  that  may  be  called  gos^nl  hardened.  It  is  the  natural,  and  it  may 
become  at  length  the  judicial  condition  of  those  who  have  been  long 
unfruitful  under  the  means  of  grace,  who  though  wooed  and  awed, 
blessed  and  chastised,  are  "filthy  still."  Every  renewed  rejection  of 
Christ  leaves  the  heart  harder. 

The  tree  that  was  simply  barren,  did  not  bear  fruit,  was  cut  down  as 
a  cumberer.  Hopeless  condition  !  God  has  not  another  Son  to  give. 
His  word  will  never  become  more  "  quick  and  powerful,"  nor  the  sword 
of  the  Spirit  keener,  nor  the  remedy  more  effectual.  Having  failed 
thus  far  to  impress  you  savingly,  what  remains  "  but  a  fearful  looking- 
for  of  judgment,  and  of  fiery  indignation  that  shall  devour  the  adver- 
saries?" Hell  from  beneath  is  moved  to  meet  you  with  the  cry,  "Art 
thou  also  become  as  one  of  us  ?" 

"  0  1-  it  will  aggravate  their  case, 
They  perished  under  means  of  grace ; 
To  them  the  word  of  life  and  foith 
Became  the  instrument  of  death." 

HI.  Christ  is  revealed  as  a  '■'■lawgiver,''''  ctnd  the  head  and  Jcing  of  his 


430  ,  JAMES    ROME  TN. 

church.  They  therefore  come  under  this  condemnation,  who  hreak  his 
commandments,  and  live  in  sifi — as  the  context  expresses  it,  "  whose  god 
is  their  belly,  who  glory  in  their  shame,  and  who  mind  earthly  things.*' 
If  there  be  such  a  thing  as  true,  saving  religion  upon  earth,  it  is  to  be 
found  only  in  the  Son  of  God.  "All  power  is  given  him."  "He  is 
head  over  all  things  to  his  church."  Christ  is  "king  in  Sion,"  The 
expression  of  allegiance  Christ  requires,  is  what  every  lawgiver  and 
superior  may  demand  ;  acknowledgment  of  his  authority,  reverence  for 
his  person,  defense  of  his  interests,  obedience  to  his  will,  grateful,  cheer- 
ful, and  prompt  in  all  its  forms.  "If  I  be  a  master,  where  is  my  fear  ? 
If  I  be  a  father,  where  is  mine  honor  ?"  Did  the  Roman  soldiers  honor 
him  when  they  placed  a  reed  in  his  hand,  and  a  crown  of  thorns  upon 
his  head,  and  bbwed  the  knee  in  mockery  ?  "  If  ye  know  these  things, 
happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them."  "  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  command- 
ments." "  He  that  saith  he  abideth  in  him,  ought  himself  to  walk  even 
as  he  walked."  They  are  not  his  friends  who  say,  "  Let  us  break  his 
bands  in  sunder ;  we  will  not  have  this  man  to  reign  over  us."  And 
if  they  are  not  his  friends,  yourselves  being  judges,  tohat  are  they  f 
"  Old  things  must  pass  away,"  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new 
creature."  "This  is  the  covenant  (saith  God),  I  will  make;  I  will  write 
my  law  in  their  hearts."  If  the  matchless  love  displayed  in  redemption, 
does  not  constrain^  by  its  power  over  the  heart,  it  does  nothing.  What 
shall  we  say,  then,  of  the  moral  condition,  their  relation  to  the  cross,  and 
their  hopes  for  eternity,  of  the  three  classes  of  hearers  ?  First,  of  the  mul- 
titudes who  have  never  asked,  "  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  to  do  ?" 
— who  have  never  pondered  a  single  action  in  the  light  of  religious  duty, 
nor  sought  the  path  of  life,  nor  rejoiced  in  hope,  and  who  feel  no  bands? 
Or,  secondly,  of  those  unstable  men,  who,  having  called  Christ  Master,  ap- 
pear to  act  under  opposite  attractions,  who  to-day  can  "  feast  themselves 
without  fear,"  and  to-morrow  can  sin  without  remorse !  Or,  thirdly,  of 
open  backsliders,  unfaithful  spies  who  declare  the  cross  too  heavy  to  be 
borne,  and  salvation  not  to  be  worth  waiting  for,  to  whom  the  Saviour 
has  occasion  to  make  the  appeal,  "  What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  me 
one  hour  ?"  and  Avho  overi-ide  every  moral  and  religious  obligation  in 
pursuit  of  interest  or  pleasure  ?  There  may  be  a  "  form  of  godliness 
without  the  power ;"  but  Sabbath-breaking,  pray erlessn ess,  profanity, 
open  sin  of  any  kind,  is  not  even  the  form,  and  can  the  power  exist  with- 
out the  form  f  Some  sins  are  manifest,  "  going  before  men  to  judgment." 
"  The  transgression  of  the  wicked  saith  within  my  heart,  there  is  no  fear 
of  God  before  their  eyes."  "  He  that  committeth  sin  is  the  servant 
of  sin."  "  If  I  wash  thee  not,  thou  hast  no  part  with  me."  "  I  know 
you  that  you  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you."  "  As  for  these  mine 
enemies,  who  would  not  that  I  should  reign  over  them,  bring  them  hither 
and  slay  them  before  mine  eyes." 


ENMITY     TO     THE     CROSS    OF     CHRIST.  431 

IV.  They  are  tlie  enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  xoho  reject  redemption 
through  his  bloody  as  the  only  and  sufficient  ground  of  their  acceptance 
icith  God.  There  are  many  uses  of  Clirist  Avhich  are  not  saving.  A 
statesman  now  gone  to  his  account,  whose  name  will  never  fade  from 
the  records  of  political- fame,*  on  being  asked  whether  he  was  a  Christian, 
replied  :  "  I  have  jirocurcd  a  copy  of  the  Bible.  I  have  cut  out  all  the 
passages  that  belong  to  the  same  branch  of  its  moral  precepts,  and  have 
pasted  them  together,  in  order  that  I  might  have,  at  one  glance,  a  vieu' 
of  its  entire  code  on  the  various  points  that  it  embraces.  I  approve  and 
admire  them,  and  if,  to  adopt  him  as  my  example  on  these  points,  and 
them  as  my  rule  of  action  toward  my  fellow-men,  is  to  be  a  Christian, 
tJien  I  am  one."  N'o  ;  that  vkis  not  a  triievieio  of  his  character  and 
work,  nor  a  saving  application  of  the  redemption  that  is  ifi  Christ.  He 
is  a  teacher — an  example — a  good  man.  He  is  the  only  perfect  ideal 
and  pattern  of  a  perfect  character,  ever  conceived  of  by  human  thought, 
or  presented  for  our  admiration  and  imitation.  But  he  is  inore  than 
these.  He  is  all  of  them  combined  in  subservience  to  a  greater,  afar  higher 
design.  He  is  the  "  great  high  priest"  of  our  profession,  "  a  Saviour 
who  died,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  to  God."  "  He 
is  the  Lord  our  righteousness,  the  Lord  our  strength."  In  him  we  have 
redemption  through  his  blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of  sins  ;  and  by  "  his 
stripes  we  are  healed."  Deliverance  by  ransom  was  the  work  which  the 
Father  gave  him  to  do.  His  cross  is  the  great  central  fact  we  are  to 
consider  in  solving  his  character,  his  person,  and  mission.  He  is  the 
"new  and  living  way"  into  the  holiest  of  all.  We  come  to  God  by  him. 
'•  He  is  the  Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the  world."  There 
is  one  God,  and  one  mediator  between  God  and  man,  the  "  man  Christ 
Jesus."  "  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life ;  no  man  cometh  to  the 
Fatlier  but  by  me."     It  tells 

"  Of  pardon  for  infinite  offense — of  pardon 
Through  moans  that  speak  its  value  infinite ; 
A  pardon  bought  with  blood,  with  blood  divine, 
With  blood  divine  of  him  I  made  ray  foe. 

In  his  blest  life 
I  see  the  path,  and  in  Ids  death  the  price, 
And,  in  his  great  ascent,  the  proof  supremo 
Of  immortality." 

You  tell  me  he  was  a  teacher.  But  be  the  theme  what  it  may,  what 
is  mere  teaching  good  for,  if  men  "  have  no  heart  to  it,"  and  if  its  lessona 
fall  like  "  good  seed  among  thorns  ?"  A  teacher  oftohat  ?  Moral  duty 
merely  ?  On  your  own  ground  (I  repeat  it  to  intimate  its  uselessness), 
it  xoas  not  necessary.  The  law  prescribed  that,  fifteen  hundred  years 
before  Christ  came — nay,  was  a  renewed  publication  of  it.  It  was  the 
*  Thomas  Jefferson. 


432  JAMES     ROMEYN. 

law  "  from  the  beginning."  He  himself  taught  nothing  different  fron^ 
this :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  .God  with  all  thy  heart,  with  all  ^ 
thy  strength,  and  with  all  thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself.  On 
these  two  commandments  hang  all  the  law  and  the  prophets."  Nor  was 
it  necessary  on  peculiar  points.  David,  long  beforehand,  said,  "  Thon 
hast  shown  me  th'e  path  of  life:  thou  hast  made  me  exceeding  glad  with 
the  light  of  thy  countenance,  I  shall  behold  thy  face  in  righteousness.  I 
shall  be  satisfied  when  I  awake  with  thy  likeness."  But  you  will  tell  me 
(unable  to  maintain  this  distortion  in  the  Saviour's  character)  that  Christ 
was  only  an  example.  Charge  not,  we  entreat  you,  God  so  foolishly. 
What  does  example  avail  when  there  is  no  principle  of  love,  or  fear,  or 
admiration  within,  to  which  it  can  appeal  ?  and  when  we  are  expressly 
told  that  the  "  one  altogether  lovely  is  as  a  root  out  of  dry  ground,  hav- 
ing neither  form  nor  comeliness  ?"  Example  has  only  moral  hifluence. 
The  case  calls  for  efficient  power  and  meritorious  action.  Where  is  your 
hope  but  in  the  appeal,  "Awake  !  awake  !  put  on  strength,  O  arm  of  the 
Lord  ;  awake !  as  in  the  ancient  days,  as  in  the  generations  of  old,  when 
God  makes  bare  his  holy  arm  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  nations  ;"  then,  and 
then  first  and  only  "  shall  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  see  the  salvation  of  our 
God."  You  may  array  Modesty  u:  her  white  robes  and  send  her  past  the 
place  where  debauchery  runs  riot :  would  the  inmates  imitate  or  revile? 
You  may  exhibit  Honesty  with  his  open  flice,  and  clean  hands,  and  trans- 
parency of  character,  where  conspirators  and  incendiaries  can  view  him 
from  their  windows :  would  the  sight  arrest  a  purpose  or  extinguish  a 
desire  of  violence  and  wrong  ?  Can  civility  disarm  a  ruflaan,  or  pacify  a 
mob  ?  All  these  are,  like  "  a  price  put  in  the  hands  of  a  fool,"  useless, 
because  they  find  amid  the  wreck  of  our  nature  no  congenial  principle 
which  would  lead  them  to  form  themselves  on  a  superior  model  even  if 
they  had  one.  Such  an  expedient  is  not  to  be  charged  upon  "  the  only 
wise  God"  for  subduing  what  himself  has  branded,  collectively,  "  as  a 
world  in  wickedness,"  and  described  individually,  as  "  an  evil  heart  of 
unbelief,  enmity,  and  desperately  wicked." 

No,  no  ;  Leviathan  is  not  so  tamed.  He  whose  views  of  the  moral 
character  and  necessities  of  man  allow  him  to  be  satisfied  with  such  ap- 
pliances, is  a  "  dauber  with  untempered  mortal*" — "  a  blind  leader  of  the 
blind" — and  was  never  "  sent  of  God."  No  !  Jesus  Christ  came,  by  his 
blood  to  wash  away  our  guilt,  by  his  Spirit  to  break  the  power  of  sin, 
to  establish  himself  where  the  "  strong  man  armed,"  for  ages  had  kept 
undisturbed  possession,  to  complete  a  revolution  m  the  spirit,  views,  and 
hopes  of  men,  and  to  form  them  "  new  creatures"  in  the  beauty  of  the 
divine  image.  To  feel  our  hitherto  impenetrable  hardness,  and  dissolve, 
under  a  sense  of  di\ine  goodness,  to  confess  the  guilt,  enoi-mity,  and 
number  of  our  transgressions,  to  acknowledge  "  the  Lord  is  righteous,  and 
I  have  sinned  ;"  to  renounce  all  hope  of  being  saved,  except  by  the  blood 
of  the  cross  ;  to  say,  "none  but  Jesus  can  do  helpless  sinners  good" — 


ENMITY    TO     THE     CROSS    OF     CHRIST.  433 

"  Nothing  in  my  hands  I  bring, 
Simi^ly  to  thy  cross  I  cling ;" 

to  rely  "wholly,  confidently,  joyfully  on  liim  ;  to  al')propriate  his  j^recions 
Llood — tJiis  is  to  reverence  GocVs  Son,  and  is  the  secret  of  salvation  hy 
him.  "  That  I  may  be  found  in  him,"  is  the  affecting  prayer  of  the  now- 
converted  persecutor.  "As  many  as  are  of  the  Avorks  of  the  law  are 
luider  the  curse,"  is  the  divine  warning  and  declaration,  "To  shut  us 
up"  to  the  fliith  of  Christ,  is  the  design,  in  warning  us  so  explicitly,  in- 
culcating the  spirituality  of  the  laAv,  and  that  it  worketh  wrath.  "  If  it 
be  of  works,  then  is  it  no  more  grace,"  is  the  inspired  ai-gument.  "  Be- 
hold, O  God !  our  shield,"  is  faith's  plea  to  the  promise.  "  Worthy  is 
the  Lamb  that  was  slain,"  is  the  song  of  heaven. 

From  premises  broad  and  distinct  as  these,  it  is  not  difficult  to  define 
Avhat  is  meant  by  receiving  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord.  "  An  advocate'''  is 
honored  when  we  intrust  our  case  to  his  hands,  and  say,  "  Undertake  for 
me."  A  '■'■  p/11/sician''''  is  honored  when  Ave  freely  state  our  symptoms — 
Avhen  his  examinations  are  submitted  to,  confidence  is  cheiished  in  his 
skill,  quackery  is  abandoned,  and  his  presciiptions  obeyed.  And  Cln-ist" 
is  received,  AAdien  idols  are  emptied  out  of  the  heart,  and  it  becomes  a 
[)lace  cleansed  and  prepared,  and  when  a  throne  is  set  up  for  him — when 
every  faculty  and  afiection,  in  their  highest  exercise,  cry  out,  "  Let  the 
King  of  Glory  enter  in,"  and,  as  the  stars  around  the  sun — as  their  com- 
mon center,  so  all-  our  views,  hopes,  and  pursuits  are  arranged  around  the 
cross,  and  receive  their  light,  beauty,  and  character  from  him.  This 
gives  ballast  to  feeling,  mold  to  character,  strength  to  princijile,  dissi- 
l)ates  frivolity,  gives  solemnity  to  the  countenance,  and  stamps  Avith 
Christian  peculiai-ities  all  that  he  is  and  all  that  he  has. 

Settle,  ye  deniers  of  the  holy  and  just  one,  jyrinei^jles  first.  ^Vn- 
swer  one  question'  to  which  we  feel  constrained  to  hold  you,  before 
you  set  up  your  altar  against  the  cross :  "  Wherewith  shall  I  come  be- 
f<«-e  the  Lord?  How, can  man  be  just  with  God  ?"  A  sacrifice  Avitli- 
uut  a  priest — one  called  of  God  to  be  such — never  yet  found  acceptance, 
oi-  presented  an  offering  that  yielded  "  a  SAveet-smelling  savor."  On  the 
other  hand,  if  God's  OAvn  appointed  high  priest  had  attempted  to  enter 
the  holy  of  holies  "  without  blood,"  he  Avould  have  been  struck  dead 
upon  the  threshold.  A  prescribed  sacrifice  and  anointed  priest  must  go 
togethei-,  and  Avhat  God  hath  joined  let  not  man  dissever.  When  you 
quote  some  of  the  precepts  of  the  sermon  on  the  mount,  as  teaching  your 
scheme  of  hope,  "  another  gospel,"  Avhat  do  you  mean  ?  To  set  Cln-ist 
against  himself?  If  you  do,  speak  out.  Avoav  your  impious  daring  ! 
He  Avho  taught  on  the  mount,  agonized  in  Gethsemane,  and  bled  on 
Calvary.  And  the  same  lips  that  said,  "blessed  are  the  meek  and 
poor  in  spirit,"  and  enjoined,  "  whatsoever  ye  AA'Ould  men  should  do  unto 
you,  do  ye  even  so  unto  them,"  prayed,  "  if  it  be  possible,  lot  this  cup 


4:M  JAMES    ROMETN. 

pass  from  me,"  ejaculated,  "  my  soul  is  exceedingly  sorrowful,"  and  pro- 
nounced in  agony,  "  it  is  finished."  And  where  is  the  contradiction  ? 
"  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded  that  he  can  keep 
that  which  I  have  committed  to  him  against  that  day," 

"  Lo  I  glad  I  come,  and  tliou,  blest  Lamb, 
Shalt  take  me  to  thee  as  I  am  ; 
Nothing  but  sin  I  thee  can  give. 
Nothing  but  grace  can  I  receive. 

'  Now  will  I  tell  to  all  around 
What  a  dear  Saviour  I  have  found ; 
I'  11  point  to  his  atoning  blood, 
And  cry,  Behold  the  way  to  God  I" 

V.  Christ  is  proposed  as  the  object  of  elevated  and  sanctified  affection  ; 
as  not  only  sometJmig,  but  "  all  in  all.''"'  And  they  are  his  enemies  who  do 
not  give  him  the  chief  room  in  their  hearts,  prefer  him  to  every  thing  and 
every  one  else,  and  have  not  a  controlling,  absorbing,  and  supreme  affec- 
tion for  him.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  how  simple  and  undeniable  are 
the  first  principles  of  all  true  religion  ;  a  child  can  comprehend  them. 
The  natural  conscience  recognizes  them.  The  business  of  life  can  not  go 
on,  and  social  order  coidd  not  continue  a  day  without  them.  Friend 
would  not  treat  friend  as  sinners  treat  their  God  and  Saviour.  If  men 
w^ere  to  act  as  widely  variant  from  the  dictates  of  right  reason  in  the 
market-place  and  exchange,  as  they  do  from  the  dictates  of  a  right  and 
good  conscience  in  the  church,  the  land  would  be  filled  with  lunatic  asy- 
lums, and  keepers  would  be  scarce.  Who  will  risk  his  reputation  by 
decrying  the  nature,  excellence,  beauty,  and  necessity  oi justice  ?  Sin  is 
robbery — injustice,  in  its  highest  bearings — "  a  robbery  of  God?''  "  You 
are  not  your  own."  Only  be  just ;  give  God  what  is  God's,  and  you 
will  be  religious.  Where  is  the  wretch  who  would  impeach  his  own 
principles  so  fir  as  to  advocate  ingratitude  f  Yet,  what  are  you  doing 
for  him  in  whom  you  "  live,  move,  and  have  your  being,"  and  who  died 
to  save  your  guilty  soul  ?  Only  be  grateful,  return  love  for  love,  give  a 
thankful  for  a  bleeding  heart,  and  you  can  not  fail  to  magnify  Christ. 
'Wisdom  is  profitable.  Religion  is  nothing,  simply,  but  wisdom  unto 
scdvation — wisdom  in  its  truest  sense  and  highest  form.  Suppose  two 
objects  were  offered  for  your  acceptance,  and  that  you  might  have 
either,  by  choosing,  a  pebble  or  a  diamond  ;  is  it  not  the  dictate  of  com- 
mon sense  to  choose  that  which  excels  in  amount,  quality,  and  endur- 
ance ?  The  world  is  the  pebble,  religion  the  diamond.  "  Thy  favor,  O 
Lord,  is  life  ;  the  good  part  which  shall  never  be  taken  away."  How 
shocking  the  base  undervaluation.,  much  more  the  total  neglect  of  Christ, 
when  placed  in  the  light  of  familiar  illustration  !  If,  on  coming  into  a 
room,  we  should  discover  two  seats  prepared,  the  one  very  low  and 
plain,  the  other  uplifted  and  gorgeous — a  very  throne  ;  and,  on  inquiry. 


ENMITY     TO     THE     CROSS     OF     CIIIIIST.  405 

should  be  told,  "  that^'"'  pointing  to  the  low  one,  "  is  for  God,  and  that,''' 
pointing  to  the  other,  "  is  for  the  world,  and  by  that  I  do  homage  to 
my  accomplished  daughter,  my  aspiring  son,  my  fine  horse,  my  large 
house,  or,  it  might  be,  my  favorite  dog !"  would  you  not  be  shocked  ? 
Yet  what  is  every  one  doing,  to  whom  Jesus  is  not  "all  in  all?"  You 
do  love  something  supremely — if  not  God,  it  is  the  creature. 

And  what  creature  is  it  that  takes  the  place  of  Jehovah  in  your  hearts'? 
To  love  what  is  most  lovely,  to  choose  what  is  most  valuable,  is  all  we 
claim  for  "  Jesus  and  las'  great  salvation."  Men  slander  the  service  of 
Jesus  Chiist  when  they  speak  and  think  of  it  as  a  gloomy  thing.  The  re- 
ligion of  terror  lacks  spiritual,  elevated,  and  abiding  principle.  It  is  the 
fruit  of  outward,  severe  appliances — an  extorted  thing.     As  Burns  says, 

"  The  fear  of  hell's  a  hangman's  whip." 

But  it  is  not  the  expression,  the  free  offering  of  inward  life,  and  ^igor, 
and  preference.  "The  soul's  calm  sunshine  and  the  heartfelt  joy,"  take 
away  terror  from  the  heart,  and  like  a  spring  forced  out  of  its  j)lace,  it 
tlies  back  to  its  original  position.  Many  dwell  all  their  days  right  at  the 
base  of  Sinai.  They  are  chilled  by  a  spirit  of  bondage,  and  are  often 
tempted  to  deem  religion  "  a  yoke"  which  they  are  unable  to  bear.  But 
the  (jospel  is  the  reign  of  grace  :  it  brings  salvation.  Love  is  exhibited, 
and  love  constrains.  The  believer  goes  to  Calvary  and  acquires  a  free 
spirit.  We  love  him  because  he  first  loved  us.  And  loving,  how  light 
our  service,  sacrifice,  self-denial !  "  Thou  hast  ravished  my  heart,"  ex- 
pi'esses  the  rapture  of  our  joy.  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?" 
was  the  lofty  appeal  of  the  devout  king.  Paul  so  spoke  of  him,  that 
Festus  cried  out,  "Thou  art  beside  thyself."  "Unsearchable  riches," 
"  unspeakable  love  !"  is  his  description.  "  I  bear  in  my  body  the  marks 
of  the  I^ord  Jesus."  "  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  his  earnest  and  indignant  protestation.  "If 
any  man,"  said  the  Master  himself,  "  love  father  or  mother  more  than 
me"  (i.e.,  if  we  are  not  willing,  when  it  is  presented  as  an  alternative, 
to  part  with  honor,  pleasure,  friends,  and  even  life,  for  the  sake  of 
Christ),  "  he  is  not  worthy  of  me."  If  we  do  wo\>  prefer  Christ  to  them 
all,  and  are  not  satisfied  with  him,  there  must  be  something  radically 
defective  in  our  views,  and  lorong  in  the  state  of  our  affections. 

Talk  they  of  morals  ?     0,  thou  bleeding  Love, 

The  true  morality  is  love  of  thee. 

Passion  is  reason,  transport,  temper  here." 

Divine  Redeenier,  set  me  as  a  seal  upon  thy  heart ! 

"  My  soul  shall  make  her  boast  in  the  Lord."  "The  humble  shall  hear 
thereof  and  be  glad."  "For  me  to  live,  is  Christ."  "This  God  is  our 
God  forever  and  ever ;  he  will  be  our  guide  even  unto  death."     Kemem- 


^30  JAMES    ROMETN. 

ber  thee  !     If  I  forget  thee,  my  bleeding,  clymg  Lord,  let  my  right  hand 
forget  her  cunning ! 

''  Did  ever  pity  stoop  so  low, 

Dressed  in  divinity  and  blood? 
Was  ever  rebel  courted  so, 

In  groans  of  an  expiring  God?" 

Such  are  the  affections  which  the  cross  of  Christ  calls  forth  :  and  this 
shows  you  where  they  belong  who  haA'^e  not  even  professed  to  be  his 
friends ;  who  dare  not  avow  they  love  him ;  who  habitually  neglect  his 
ordinances,  the  appointed  means  of  testifying  their  love  and  receiving  his 
benefits  ;  and  who  fail  to  embrace  opportunities  of  hearing  of  him,  and 
hohling  converse  with  him.  I  do  not  say  the  love  of  Christ  is  not  in 
tjiera  ;  "I  judge  them  not."  But  does  this  case  admit  of  argument  or 
defense  ?     I  only  ask^  how  dwelleth  the  love  of  God  in  them? 

Application. — 1.  This  subject  calls  for  a  prayerful,  honest,  and  thorough 
self-exarahiation.  This  is  a  solemn  charge  ;  these  ai-e  responsible  words. 
"  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men" — "  enemies  of  the  cross  of  ChristP 
You  may  ask,  as  the  Jews  averred  respecting  the  discij^les  (Acts,  v.  28), 
",Do  you  intend  to  bring  this  man's  blood  upon  us?  I  do.  I  speak  on 
reflection.  I  do.  There  is  an  issue  raised  between  the  views  the  gospel 
gives  of  men,  their  hearts,  and  actions,  arid  men's  opinion  of  themselves. 
The  gospel  says,  "  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God.  There  is  no 
fear  of  God  before  their  eyes."  Nay,  it  calls  them  haters  of  God.  Men 
deny  this.  Which  is  true  and  right  ?  On  the  one  side,  men  plead  their 
lack  of  consciousness  of  enmity,  their  fair  morals,  that  they  have  a  hope 
toward  God,  although  it  may  not  j^ossess  gospjel  peculiarity  I  On  the 
side  of  the  gospel  representation,  we  adduce  the  uniform  testhnony  of 
the  multitudes  who  have  passed  from  death  unto  life.  They  once 
thought  of  themselves  j«5i(  as  despisers  and  rejecters  do  now;  but  when 
"  they  came  to  themselves,"  they  cried  out  "  Guilty,"  before  God. 

"  Their  former  pride,  tliey  called  their  shame, 
And  nailed  their  glory  to  the  cross." 

We  contend,  moreover,  that  such  as  we  have  named  is  the  Bible  rep- 
resentation and  charge.  It  exlribits  man  as  any  thing  but  innocent  and 
a  lover  of  God.  All  the  evidence  that  the  Bible  is  true,  is  just  as  much 
evidence  that  he  has  corrupted  his  way,  and  is  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins.  This  view  is  essential  and  radical.  It  is  the  very  occasion  of  and 
the  only  cleto  to  the  meaning  of  "  the  cross,"  and  modifies  the  whole 
plan.  Now,  when  men  allow  that  they  live  prayerless,  and  are  earthly- 
minded,  they  allow  the  very  facts,  that  go  to  make  up  the  counts  in  the 
gospel  indictment  against  them,  and  with  strange  j^erverseness  they  at 
the  same  time  deny  the  origin,  relation,  character  and  issues  which  the 


ENMITY     TO     THE     GROSS     OF     CHRIST.  J37 

gospel  ascribes  to  these  facts.  They  are  unwilling  to  asci-ibe  them  to 
their  true  source,  and  they  boast  all  the  while  of  "  the  goodness  of  their 
hearts,"  and  ask  with  an  air  of  innocence  "  what  have  we  done  so  much 
against  thee  ?"  Now  we  contend  that  a  bad  life,  uncontrolled  by  the 
fear  and  love  of  God,  is  a  symptom,  an  outward  indiciition,  of  an  inward 
condition.  When  a  physician  comes  to  a  bed-side,  and  the  patient  tells 
him  how  he  feels,  it  is  the  2)hysician''s  right,  and  his  special  office,  not  the 
Ixttie/iVs,  to  pronounce  on  what  these  feelings  indicate  ;  and  it  is  the 
right  of  Christ  to  judge  of  our  state,  and  "his  judgment  is  according  to 
truth."  He  does  pronounce  respecting  every  one  at  whose  door  he 
stands  rejected,  "  Enemies  to  my  cross,  having  no  hope,  and  icithout 
God  in  the  world?''  This  subject  is  solemn,  high,  of  eternal  moment. 
A  mistake  here  is  as  flital  as  the  last  step  near  a  precipice ;  as  decisive 
in  determining  our  course,  as  the  first  step  in  deciding  the  issue  of 
pursuing  resolutely  an  inflexible  and  wrong  direction.  Any  view  of 
Christ  which  leaves  you  at  ease  in  sin  ;  any  power  unsubdued  to  obe- 
dience and  love,  comes  short  of  securing  a  saving  interest  in  him.  You 
are  in  a  lost  state,  and  as  near  to  perdition  as  you  are  to  death.  Do  you 
complain  that  we  show  you  no  quarter,  that  w^e  refuse  you  a  spot  to 
stand  01.  quietly ;  and  do  you  ask  whether,  notwithstanding  all  your 
tears  and  alarms,  your  emotions  of  gratitude,  and  professions  of  ho[>e, 
you  arc  yet  within  the  flood-marks  of  vengeance,  and  what  more  we 
would  have  ?  I  ask,  in  reply,  "  Is  thy  heart  right  in  the  sight  of  God  ? 
Does  your  religion  embrace  the  radical  doctrine  of  its  desperate  wicked- 
ness, and  make  provision  for  renewing  and  cleansing  it,  and  perfecting 
holiness  in  the  fear  of  God  ?  Does  it  jjlace  a  Saviour  between  you  and 
an  offended  God,  maintaining  the  honor  of  his  government,  and  securing 
the  interests  of  holiness  ?  And  does  it  leave  your  heart  like  the  ti-oubled 
sea  that  can  not  i-est,  till  you  can  say  '  he  is  my  peace  ?'  "  Tell  me,  is 
Jesus  the  subject  of  your  warmest  thoughts  ?  And  does  salvation 
through  him  lie  like  a  glowing  coal  at  your  heart  ?  Does  he  '  live  in  you 
the  ho})e  of  glory  ?'  Is  he  your  all  in  all?  Have  you  opened  to  him  the 
gates  of  yoiu'  heart,  and  laid  at  his  feet  the  key  of  your  treasures?  I 
scorn  the  littleness  of  denominational  peculiarities,  the  worse  than 
worthlessness  of  ceremonial  dependencies.  You  are  my  fellow-sinners, 
and  whatever  be  your  name,  Avherever  your  church  home,  hear  it  for 
your  life !  '  Every  i)lant  which  my  heavenly  Father  has  not  planted  shall 
be  rooted  up.'  'If  any  man  have  not  the  spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none 
of  his!' 

2.  Let  shame  and  confusion  of  face  prevail  under  a  sense  of  our  defi- 
ciency in  gratitude,  admiration  and  praise.  We  "live  at  a  poor  dying 
i"ate."  Cold  are  our  hearts,  and  faint  our  praises,  and  there  is  not 
a  church  in  the  land  that  has  not  reason  to  cover  its  altar  with  tears, 
and  to  go  into  mourning.  "  O  if  Ave  felt  our  danger  and  depravity,  and 
realized   our  dependence,  and  estimattxl  aright  how  much  we  owe  oui 


438  JAMES     ROMEYX. 

Lord,"  how  different  would  be  tlie  character  of  our  feeling — how  great 
the  ardor  of  our  love  !  Was  that  martyr  extravagant  when  he  said, 
"  I  fear  nothing  but  sin  ;"  and,  on  being  threatened  with  sjieedy  death, 
replied,  "  I  shall  only  get  to  heaven  the  sooner '"  Is  that  convert  ex 
travagant,  whose  heart  is  elated  with  heavenly  joy  while  singing, 

"Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  thee." 

Or  was  that  missionary  an  enthusiast  who  lifted  a  tearful  eye  to  the 
throne,  and  struggled  with  emotion  while  avowing 

"Jesus,  at  thy  command  I  launch  uato  the  deep, 
And  leave  my  native  land  where  sin  lulls  all  to  sleep." 

Or  that  Christian  mother,  who,  no  longer  feeling  it  safe  to  trust  her 
children  amid  the  horrors  of  heathenism,  took  them  by  the  hand  on 
the  vessel's  deck,  to  intrust  them  to  the  care  of  a  female  friend  who 
was  about  returning  home  to  die,  and  said  Avith  a  convulsed  heart  and 
streaming  eyes,  yet  with  an  unflinching  purjiose,  "  Jesus,  Master,  I  do 
this  for  thee  ?" 

Was  the  apostle  beside  himself  when,  in  ten  successive  verses,  he 
repeats  the  name  and  title  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  chiming  it  in  his 
ear  like  delicious  music  ?  (1  Cor.  i  ;  Eph.  i.)  Did  he  estimate  Christ  too 
highly,  whose  selected  motto  was,  "  none  but  Christ  ?"  Or  Whitefield, 
the  device  on  whose  seal  was  a  heart  with  wings  ?_  Or  he  who  never 
heard  the  name  of  Jesus  without  perceptible  emotion  ?  Or  that  dying 
saint,  Avho  exclaimed,  smiling,  "  sweet  Jesus,"  and  fell  asleep  ?  Or  Bax- 
ter, who,  when  asked  on  his  death-bed,  how  he  felt,  replied,  "  almost 
vjell  f "  Or  that  humble  minister  of  Christ,  whom  I  well  remember,  who 
was  asked  by  his  weeping  wife,  when  sinking  in  the  stupor  of  dying,  and 
far  gone,  almost  out  of  sight,  amid  the  gloom  of  the  dark  valley,  "  Do 
you  know  me  ?"  and  responded  "  No."  Ajid  when  inquired  of  "  Avhether 
he  knew  Jesus  Christ?"  replied  with  alacrity,  "  O  yes,  I  have  known 
him  long ;  he  is  my  best  friend  ;  he  is  "here  now  ?"  Or  that  female  mar- 
tyr who  said,  "  I  can't  argue  for  Christ,  but  I  can  die  for  him  ?"  Or 
have  you  forgotten  the  scene  on  the  parting  wreck  of  the  steamer 
Home,  and  the  sublime  declaration  of  that  Christian  pastor  to  his  wife, 
in  momentary  expectation  of  being  engulfed,  "  he  that  relies  on  Jesus 
can  trust  liim  amid  the  raging  of  the  seas  ?"  And  if  we  may  compound 
earthly  and  heavenly  things,  why  is  the  name  of  Washington  bi-eathed 
in  reverence  by  the  teeming  millions  of  a  mighty  continent  ?  You  will 
point  me  to  deliverances  accomplished,  the  institutions  he  founded,  and 
say,  "  Look  around  you,  and  you  have  the  answer."  We  would  not 
break  the  spell.  But  has  the  founder  of  a  kingdom  that  can  not  be 
moved,  the  author  of  eternal  salvation,  no  claims  ?     Does  he  deserve 


ENMITY    TO     THE     CROSS     OF    CHRIST.  439 

less,  who  took  on  him  the  form  of  a  servant — trod  the  wine-press  alone, 
and  went  forward  in  that  dark  and  gloomy  hour  when  forsaken  of  his 
God  ?  Jesus,  thou  friend  of  sinners  !  deliverpr  from  wrath  !  great  Cap- 
tain of  salvation !  "  shall  we  ever  live  at  this  poor  dying  rate  ?"  "  Draw 
us,  and  we  will  run  after  thee."     O  the  sweet  wonders  of  his  cross ! 

"  0  take  mj'  all,  this  worthless  heart, 
And  make  it  wholly  thine — 
Hero,  Lord,  I  give  myself  away, 
'Tis  all  that  I  can  do." 

"None  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself;  for 
whether  we  live,  we  live  unto  the  Lord ;  and  whether  we  die,  we  die 
unto  the  Lord ;  so  that,  whether  living  or  dying,  we  are  the  Lord's." 

3.  The  tremendous  danger  of  the  impenitent.  "  Where  will  you  ap- 
pear ;  to  whom  will  you  flee  for  help,  and  where  will  you  leave  your 
glory '?"  Tlie  absolute  certainty  of  the  gospel,  next  to  its  intrinsic 
grandeur,  is  the  secret  of  its  joys  and  terrors.  "  O,  sir,"  said  a  dying, 
trembling  saint,  whose  mind  became  suddenly  darkened,  almost  in  the 
agonies  of  dying,  to  John  Newton,  as  she  started  up  and  seized  his 
hand,  convulsed  at  the  thought  that  possibly  she  might  be  depending 
on  a  fable,  '■'■Are  you  sure  that  you  are  right  J*"  '"•  My  soul  in  thy  soul's 
stead,"  was  the  solemn,  cheering  reply,  "  if  there  is  unfaithfulness  with 
God."  "  You  say  true ;"  after  a  pause,  during  Avhich  the  cloud  passed 
away,  she  rejoined,  '•'■  I  knoio  I  am  right.  I  feel  that  my  hope  is  fixed 
on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  yet,  if  you  could  see  with  ray  eyes,  you  would  not 
wonder  at  my  question."  Sinner !  are  you  sure  that  you  are  right  and 
safe?  that  happiness  here  and  hereafter  is  consequent  upon  your 
coui-se?  Can  you  press  Avith  confidence  and  desire  against  the  door 
that  divides  between  time  and  eternity,  and  cry,  "  Lord,  how  long  ?" 
Can  you  with  joy  feel  disease  unloosing,  and  death  at  last  lifting  the 
heavy  obstructing  bar,  and,  as  you  hear  the  summons,  say,  "  It  is  the 
voice  of  my  beloved,"  and  feel  a  delightful  glow  at  your  heart,  and  ex- 
claim, as  I  have  heard  a  dying  relative,  "  haj^py !  happy !"  and  then 
rehearse  to  its  close,  with  a  voice  whose  strength  and  clearness  were 
in  strong  and  impressive  contrast  with  her  wasted  form, 

"  The  hour  of  my  departure's  come  ; 
I  hear  the  voice  that  calls  me  homo ; 
Now,  0  my  God,  let  trouble  cease, 
Now  let  thy  servant  die  in  peace." 

You  kno7c  you  can  not;  and  if  you  can  not,  "  is  your  rock  as  our  rock  ?" 
Is  it  safe  and  wise  to  cling  to  a  pai-ting  wreck,  and  refuse  the  ark  ? 
O  the  fearfulness  of  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God!  If  there 
was  another  plank  to  wliicli  you  miglit  possibly  cling,  after  making 


440  JAMES     ROMETN. 

shipwreck  of  the  arlc,  we  would  not  be  so  importunate  ;  hut  there  is  not^ 
— "  there  reraaineth  no  more  sacrifice  for  sin."  You  are  a  starving 
beggai-,  come  to  the  last-  door :  and  if  now  you  turn  away,  you  must 
perish!  If  a  man  reject  the  very  Saviour^  who  will  entreat  for  him  ? 
"  I  will  have  nothing  to  do,"  said  Luther,  "  with  an  absolute  God." 
Devils  have,  and  they  are  i-eserved  under  chains  of  darkness.  Sinners 
must,  because  they  choose  to,  and  will  not  have  a  God  who  is  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself.  The  Lord  save  me  from  the  guilt 
of  healing  your  wounds  slightly !  If  I  do  not  plant  your  path  with  ob- 
structing mountains,  and  your  pillow  with  thorns,  it  will  be  only  because  I 
can  not.  But  though  Christ  has  been  desi)ised  and  rejected  hitherto,  it 
need  not  continue  so  always.  Shall  it  continue  ?  Shall  not  the  Great 
Sheplierd  this  morning  lay  some  lost  sheep  on  his  shoulder,  and  bear  it 
to  his  fold  rejoicing  ?  Shall  not  some  new-born  conviction,  some  faint 
efibrt  of  penitence  and  faith,  springing  from  this  occasion,  prove  the 
first-fruits  of  a  joyful  harvest  here,  where  God's  ministers  have  so  long, 
and  with  so  many  tears,  sown  the  precious  seed  ?  Hear  me  then,  as  a 
dying  man,  whose  hold  on  life  is  feeble,  and  whose  voice  must  soon  cease 
to  sound  the  gospel  trumpet.  The  feshion  of  the  Avorld  is  passing  away. 
Long  before  the  "  end  of  all  things"  we  individually  will  have  been 
silently  called  away.  We  shall  ere  long  be  principals  in  the  sad,  slow, 
moving  procession,  going  forth  from  yon  avenue  to  the  grave-yard.  The 
dust  will  be  our  resting-place. 

"  j.hy  flesh,  perhaps  thy  chiefest  care, 
Shall  crawhag  worms  consume  ; 
But  ah,  destruction  stops  not  here — 
Sin  kills  beyond  the  iomh  /" 

Let  not  the  glare  of  the  world,  the  hope  of  futui-e  repentance,  the 
buoyancy  of  youth  or  health,  beguile  you  of  the  persuasion  that  there 
is  a  reward  for  the  righteous,  and  that  it  shall  be  well  with  him,  but  ill 
with  the  wicked. 

I  close  with  two  summary  mementoes.  Reject  Christ — live  and  die  the 
enemies  of  his  cross — and  your  dying  hours  will  be  disturbed  by  recol- 
lections of  Christ.  Or,  what  is  woi'se,  yours  will  be  the  deceitful  calm  of  a 
scared  conscience,  and  the  sui'prise  of  being  undone  for  eternity.  JBelieve 
on  him,  and  yours  will  be  a  joyful  experience.  "Them  that  honor  me 
I  will  honor."  "  No  man  has  left  father  or  mother,  house  or  lands,  for 
my  sake,  but  he  shall  receive  an  hundred  fold  in  this  life,  q,nd  in  the 
world  to  come  life  everlasting."  He  will  accept  your  sei'vices,  increase 
your  knowledge,  sanctify  your  praises,  and  after  keeping  you  from  the 
c'orriiptions  of  the  world,  will  "  i)resent  you  faultless  before  the  presence 
of  his  glo)'}"  with  exceeding  joy."     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    XXXII. 

CHARLES    PETTIT    MCILVAINE,    D.  D . 

Bishop  McIlvaine  was  bora  in  Burlington,  New  Jersey,  January  18th,  of  the 
last  year  of  the  eighteenth  century.  His  parents — Joseph  and  Jilaria  Mcllvaine — 
were  of  families  descended  from  early  colonists,  and  residents  in  Pennsylvania  and 
New  Jersey ;  on  the  mother's  side  from  England,  and  the  father's  from  Scotland.  His 
mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Eeed,  was  daughter  of  Brown  Reed,  Esq.,  whose 
brother,  Joseph  (G-eneral  Reed  of  the  Revolution),  was  Washington's  aujutant-gen- 
eral  and  confidential  friend,  and  President  of  Pennsylvania.  Joseph  Mcllvaine  was  a 
distinguished  lawyer  of  New  Jersey,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death  represented 
the  State  ic  the  Senate  of  the  United  States.  The  son  was  converted  in  1815,  at 
Princeton  College,  while  in  the  junior  class;  and  having  been  educated  in  the  Epis- 
copal church  of  Burlington  (Rev.  Dr.  Wharton,  rector)  from  childhood,  he  became  a 
communicant  of  that  church.  There  was  an  extensive  Avork  of  grace  in  the  college 
at  that  time  (Dr.  Green,  President).  His  two  intimate  friends  then,  and  ever 
since,  the  present  Dr.  Hodge,  of  Princeton,  and  Bishop  Johns,  of  Virginia,  were 
turned  to  God  about  the  same  time.  He  graduated  at  Nassau  Hall,  Princeton, 
New  Jersey,  in  1816,  and  was  ordained  deacon  on  the  4th  of  July,  1820,  in  Phila- 
delphia, by  Bishop  White,  of  Pennsylvania ;  and  priest  by  Bishop  Kemp,  of  Mary- 
land, in  1823.  In  the  summer  of  1820  he  took  charge  of  Christ's  church,  George- 
town, D.  C. 

At  the  opening  of  the  year  1825,  at  the  request  of  Hon.  J.  C.  CaUioun,  then 
Secretary  of  War,  Mr.  Mcllvaine  was  induced  to  accept  the  appointment  of  Chap- 
lain and  Professor  of  Etliics,  etc.,  at  the  United  States  Mihtary  Academy  at  West 
Point.  While  there,  God  was  pleased  to  bless  the  word,  and  a  powerful  work  of 
grace  was  manifest  in  the  institution.  Many  were  converted,  and  many  received 
impressions  which  afterward  matured  to  their  conversion.  Several  have  since  beeli 
faithful  ministers  of  the  gospel,  who  then,  as  cadets,  were  turned  to  the  Lord.  The 
present  Bishop  Polk,  of  Louisiana,  was  one  of  them,  and  the  first,  in  point  of  time, 
lie  resigned  at  West  Point,  December,  1827,  and  became  rector  of  St.  Ann's  church, 
Brooklyn,  New  York.  In  1831,  he  was  appointed  Professor  of  the. Evidences  of 
Revealed  Religion  and  Sacred  Antiquities  in  the  University  of  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  delivered  a  course  of  lectures,  afterward  published.  In  1832  he  was 
consecrated,  in  New  York,  Bishop  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  church,  in  the  diot'ese 
of  Ohio,  where  he  has  since  ofiiciatec],  with  great  acceptance  and  growing  useful- 
ness. 

Bishop  I^lcllvainc  is  the  author  of  several  valuable  Avorks ;  among  which  liis  "  Evi- 
dences of  Clu-istianity  in  their  External  and  Historical  Division,"  8vo.,  rcjiraitcd,  in 


442  CHARLES     PETTIT     McILYAINE. 

several  editions,  in  England  and  Scotland ;  "  Oxford  Divinity  compared  with  that  of 
the  Romish  and  Anglican  Churches,"  8vo.,  reprinted  in  London  ;  "  The  Truth  and  the 
Life,"  a  course  of  sermons,  8vo.,  also  reprinted  in  London  ;  "  The  Sinner's  Justification 
before  God — a  Scriptural  Treatise,"  18mo.,  reprinted  in  London ;  "  The  Holy  Cath 
oUc  Church,"  ISmo.,  London  also ;  "  No  Priest,  No  Altar,  No  Sacrifice  but  Christ,' 
London  also ;  with  several  smaller  works,  besides  episcopal  charges,  reviews  in 
periodicals,  magazines,  etc. 

The  personnel  of  the  Bishop  is  quite  prepossessing.  He  is  about  six  feet  high,  of  a 
ruddy,  healthful  complexion,  and  a  portly,  commanding  carriage.  His  figure  in  the 
pulpit  is  very  fine.  He  is  distinguished  for  the  soundness  and  clearness  of  his  evangel- 
ical views,  and  for  the  expository  character  of  his  preaching.  That  for  which,  as  a 
preacher,  he  is  most  eminent,  is  his  power  of  illustrating  Scripture  by  Scripture.  And 
his  mode  of  doing  this  shows  at  once  the  fullness  and  the  accuracy  of  his  knowl- 
edge of  Scripture,  and  the  transparent  simphcity  of  his  conception.  He  preaches  as 
well  extempore  as  from  manuscript,  and  at  times  he  is  quite  eloquent.  His  minis- 
trations, however,  have  what  is  worth  far  more  than  eloquence,  as  commonly 
rmderstood — they  are  searching  and  edifying^  enlightening  the  mind,  speaking  to 
the  conscience,  and  stirring  the  sensibiHties.  In  all  his  preaching  he  aims  to  lay 
deep  and  broad  the  foundations  of  Christian  character,  in  strong,  clear  views  of 
man's  sinfulness  and  need,  and  Christ's  fullness  and  freeness  as  a  Saviour. 

Som.e  of  his  finest  qualities  as  a  preacher  are  observable  in  the  following  excel- 
lent discourse,  which,  by  the  Bishop's  kindness,  we  are  able  to  lay  before  the  readers 
of  this  work. 


THE    RESFRRECTION    OF    CHRIST. 

"  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed." — Luke,  xxiv.  34. 

These  are  words  of  conviction,  and  of  joy.  To  appreciate  them,  as 
uttered  by  the  disciples  of  Christ,  when  they  became  assured  that  he 
had  risen  from  the  dead,  we  must  enter  into  their  circumstances.  Well 
persuaded  that,  in  Jesus,  they  beheld  him  to  whom  all  the  prophets  had 
witnessed,  who  was  to  sit  on  the  throne  of  David,  and  to  establish  his 
kingdom  over  all  people,  they  had*  forsaken  all  to  follow  him,  and  had 
embarked  all  their  hopes  on  his  claims.  Already  had  they  learned,  by 
painful  experience,  that  it  was  through  much  tribulation  they  were  to 
share  in  his  kingdom ;  but  such  trials  had  not  shaken  their  faith.  Ac- 
customed to  behold  him  despised,  persecuted,  and  rejected  of  men,  their 
confidence  was  continually  sustained,  as  they  heard  him  speak  "as  never 
man  spake,"  and  with  an  authority  that  controlled  the  sea  and  raised  the 
dead.  But  now,  deep  tribulation,  such  as  they  had  not  known  before, 
had  overtaken  them.  What  darkness  had  come  upon  their  faith  \  He, 
who  was  once  so  mighty  to  give  deliverance  to  the  captive,  had  himself 
been  taken  captive  and  bound  to  the  cross.  He,  w^ho  with  a  word 
raised  the  dead,  had  been  violently,  wickedly,  put  to  an  ignominious 


THE     RESURllECTlOls     OF     ClilllST.  ^43 

death.  He,  whom  tlicy  expected  to  reign  as  King  of  kings,  and  to  sub- 
due all  nations,  had  been  brought  under  the  dominion  of  his  own  nation, 
and  shut  up  in  the  sepulcher,  and  all  the  people  of  Israel  were  now 
boastfully  confident  that  the  death  of  the  cross  had  proved  him  a  de- 
ceiver. O,  indeed,  it  was  a  season  of  great  heaviness,  and  dismay,  and 
trial,  those  days  and  nights  in  which  their  beloved  Master  was  lying  in 
death !  The  great  stone  which  his  enemies  had  rolled  to  the  door  of 
the  sepulcher,  lest  his  disciples  should  go  by  night  and  take  away  the 
body,  was  expressive  of  the  cold,  dead  weight,  which  that  death  and 
burial  had  laid  lapon  their  hearts.  That  sepulcher  seemed  as  the  tomb 
of  all  their  hopes.  All  was  buried  with  Jesus.  "  For,  as  yet  (it  is  writ- 
ten), they  knew  not  the  Scripture,  that  he  must  rise  again  from  the 
dead."  (John,  xx.  9.)  Had  they  understood  Avhat  he  had  often  told 
them,  they  Avould  have  known  "  that  thus  it  behooved  (the)  Christ  to 
suffer,  and  to  rise  from  the  dead,  the  third  day." 

The  third  day  was  now  come.  The  Je^Wsh  Sabbath  was  over.  The 
first  day  of  the  week  was  breaking.  While  it  is  yet  dark,  faithful  women 
repair  to  the  sepulcher  with  spices  for  the  embalming.  They  find  the 
stone  rolled  away.  Wondering  at  this,  they  enter  the  tomb.  The  body 
is  not  there.  Enemies  have  taken  it  away,  is  their  first  thought.  Mary 
Magdalene  hastens  to  say  to  Peter  arid  John,  "  they  have  taken  away  the 
Lord  out  of  the  sepulcher,  and  we  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him." 
Angels  appear  to  the  Avomen  in  their  alarm,  saying,  "  He  is  not  here,  but 
is  risen."  "With  fear,"  and  yet  "  with  great  joy,"  they  ran  "to  bring 
his  disciples  word,"  But  to  the  latter,  "  their  words  seemed  as  idle 
tales,  and  they  believed  them  not."  Peter  and  John  had  now  reached 
"  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay,"  and  entering  in,  they  found  the  grave- 
clothes  remaining,  but  otherwise  an  empty  sepulcher.  "  They  saw  and 
believed."  After  a  little,  came  Mary  Magdalene  to  the  other  disciples, 
and  "told  them  she  had  seen  the  Lord,"  and  wliat  things  he  had  spoken 
unto  her.  Still,  "  they  believed  not."  It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true. 
How  was  it  that  they  did  not  remember  his  words,  which  even  the 
chief  priests  and  Pharisees  repeated  to  Pilate,  as  a  reason  for  posting  a 
guard  around  the  tomb,  "  After  three  days,  I  will  rise  again."  (Mat- 
thew, xxvii.  &3.)  The  terrible  shock  of  the  crucifixion  must  have  so  stun- 
ned their  faith,  and  distracted  their  thoughts,  that  what  they  afterwai-d 
remembered  so  clearly,  was  either  forgotten,  or  not  comprehended. 

That  same  day,  two  of  them  went  toward  the  neighboring  village. 
Their  hearts  were  heavy,  and  they  "  talked  of  all  those  things  that  liad 
happened."  Jesus  "  drew  near  and  went  with  them."  He  often  draws 
near  to  those  whose  hearts  are  sad,  because  they  feel  their  need  of  him. 
He  asked  their  grief.  They  told  him  of  Jesus  of  Xazareth,  whom  they 
believed  to  have  been  "  a  proi)het,  mighty  in  Avord  and  deed ;"  how  he 
had  been  put  to  death — he  of  whom  they  expected  that  "he  Avould  l)ave 
redeemed  Israel ;"  and  how  it  A\'as  now  the  third  day  since  this  was 


44-i  CHARLES     PETTIT     McIIiVAINE. 

done ;  and  of  the  amazing  statement  tliat  the  sepulcher  had  been  found 
empty,  and  that  a  vision  of  angels  had  been  seen,  "  who  said  he  was 
aUve." 

Then  answered  their  unknown  companion :  "  O,  slow  of  heart  to  be. 
lieve  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken."  "  And  beginning  at  Moses 
and  all  the  prophets,  he  expounded  unto  them  in  all  the  Scripture  the 
things  concerning  himself."  What  an  exposition  must  that  have  been  ! 
Who  but  must  wish  we  had  it  to  read !  No  wonder  their  hearts  were 
inflamed  at  the  touch  of  such  words,  and  burned  within  them,  while 
thus  the  Light  of  the  world  was  oj^ening  to  them  the  Scriptures.  Pres- 
ently, while  sitting  at  meat  with  them,  Jesus  "  took  hread^  and  braJce  it, 
and  gave  to  them?''  It  was  a  sign  they  could  not  mistake.  Their  eyes 
were  ojoened  in  that  breaking  of  bread.  "They  knew  him,  and  he  van- 
ished out  of  their  sight."  Immediately  they  returned  to  Jerusalem  with 
the  tidings.  They  found  tlie  rest  of  the  disciples,  and  others,  gathered 
together — but  in^ what  mind?  No  more  in  doubt,  but  saying  among 
themselves,  "  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed?^  The  two  from  Emmaus  now 
added  their  testimony.  Again,  and  more  confidently  and  joyfully,  must 
they  all  have  said  one  to  another^  with  a  relief  of  heart,  and  a  return  of 
faith,  and  a  resurrection  of  hope,  like  the  return  of  day  after  a  long  and 
fearful  night,  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed  y  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed. 

Corresponding  with  the  iaith  and  joy  of  those  disciples,  is  the  state  of 
mind  in  which  the  church  should  keep  her  feast  this  day* — the  annual 
commemoration  of  the  resurrection  of  the  Lord  and  Head.  Eminently 
is  it  the  Lord's  day — that  from  which  all  the  Sabbaths  of  the  Christian 
year  derive  their  light  and  festival.  It  is  "  the  great  day  of  the  feast" 
— that  feast  of  faith  and  hope  which  measures  all  the  life  of  the  true 
believer. 

We  began  by  saying  that  the  words  of  the  text,  as  uttered  by  the 
apostles,  are  words  oi  conviction  and  words  oi  joy  fulness.  Under  these 
two  aspects  we  will  treat  the  subject  they  contain, 

I.  Words  of  conviction.  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed." 
The  apostles  had  laid  aside  their  doubts  and  were  assured.  And  what 
if  we  were  not  assured  that  Christ  did  rise  ?  St,  Paul  answers,  "  If 
Christ  be  not  risen,  then  is  our  preaching  vain,  and  your  faith  is  also 
vain.  Ye  are  yet  in  your  sins.  Then  they  which  are  fallen  asleep  in 
Christ  are  perished."  (1  Cor.,  xv.  14,  17,  18.)  In  other  words,  the 
great  seal  and  evidence  of  the  victory  of  Clirist  over  sin  and  death, 
as  our  surety,  would  be  wanting.  We  could  have  no  confidence  in  the 
efiicacy  of  his  death  as  a  saci'ifice  for  us.  Life  and  immortality  would  be 
still  in  darkness.  Our  hope  would  want  its  corner-stone,  our  fiiith  iti3 
warrant.  Every  promise  of  the  gospel  would  lack  the  signature  of  him 
who  alone  can  fulfill  it.f  B;U,  saith  the  same  apostle,  "  now  is  Christ 
*  Easter  Sunday  f  Rom.,  i.  4;  Acts,  xvii.  31;  and  xiii.  32,  33. 


THE     RESURRECTION     OF     CHRIST.  445 

risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept." 
(1  Cor.,  XV.  20.)  His  resurrection  was  not  only  the  greatest  and  most 
imi^ortant  of  his  miracles,  but  the  most  abundantly  and  variously  attested. 
We  have  only  space  here  for  a  glance  at  its  evidence. 

Prophets  had  for  many  centuries  foretold  that  Messiah  would  rise  from 
the  dead.*  Jesus  had  several  times  predicted  and  promised  it,  both  to 
his  disciples  and  the  Jews,  who  believed  not  on  him.  (Matt.,  xx.  18,  19.) 
So  well  did  the  chief  priests  and  Pharisees  remember  his  words,  and  the 
exact  time  that  he  said  he  would  Ue  in  the  grave,  that  it  was  the  alleged 
ground  of  their  application  to  Pilate  for  a  guard  of  soldiers  to  jn-otect  the 
sepulcher  from  any  attempt  of  his  disciples  apparently  to  make  good  the 
prediction,  by  stealing  away  his  body.  But  while  his  enemies  remembered 
so  well  his  saying,  his  disciples,  as  if  it  were  so  ordered,  to  increase  the  evi- 
dence, had  no  recollection,  or  no  idea  of  the  meaning  of  his  words,  and 
therefore  no  preparation,  either  to  expect  his  resurrection  or  to  practice  the 
fraud,  which  the  chief  priests  apprehended ;  but  now  that  tlie  tomb  is  empty 
on  the  predicted  third  day,  notwithstanding  the  guard  of  Roman  soldiers, 
determined,  as  they  valued  their  lives,  to  keep  it  safely,  that  notorious 
fact  must  be  accounted  for.  The  grave-clothes  are  there.  The  fact  of 
the  burial  was  certain  and  notorious.  Either  friends  or  enemies  must 
have  removed  the  body ;  or  else  it  did  not  rise  from  death.  Enemies 
of  course  did  not.  Their  easy  and  triumphant  answer  to  the  preaching 
of  the  resurrection,  had  they  done  it,  would  have  been  to  produce  the 
body!  Did  friends  ?  Who  were  the  friends  of  Jesus  ?  Eleven  apostles, 
Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  a  few  women !  The  first  were  so  overpowered 
by  fear,  that  when  he  was  taken  "  all  forsook  him  and  fled."  (Matt., 
xxvi.  56.)  But  had  they  not  been  too  fearful  to  attempt  it,  in  the  face 
of  the  Roman  guard,  was  it  possible  for  them  to  accomplish  it,  to  roll 
away  that  great  stone,  and  bear  away  that  biirden,  so  jealously  and  so 
strongly  watched  ?  Were  the  soldiers  awake  or  asleep  ?  Of  course,  the 
latter,  if  that  robbery  was  committed.  But  what  less  than  miracle  put 
to  sleep  a  whole  Roman  guard,  on  such  a  night,  with  such  a  trust,  and 
under  such  responsibility,  and  kept  them  all  so  fast  asleep  that  all  the 
movements  of  all  the  men  necessary  to  roll  away  the  stone,  and  force  the 
tomb,  and  bear  away  the  body,  did  not  arouse  them?  Seeing,  then, 
that  friends  could  not,  and  enemies  would  not,  remove  the  body,  the 
empty  sepulcher  was  negative  evidence  of  resurrection.  Then,  Avhcn 
afterward  Jesus  Avas  frequently  seen  and  conversed  with;  when  his 
doubting  disciples  were  allowed  to  touch  him,  to  jjlace  their  hands  in  the 
l)rint  of  the  wounds  in  his  hands  and  side^ ;  when,  during  a  space  of  forty 
days,  they  Ustened  to  his  instructions,  recognizing  perfectly  the  well- 
known  countenance  and  voice,  and  the  teaching  as  never  man  taught ; 
when  he  appeared  to  "  more  than  five  hundred  brethren  at  once"  (l  Cor., 
XV.  ()),  so  that,  as  a  mere  historical  fact,  we  must  deny  the  evidence  of 
*  Rs.  xvi.  9,  10  cxxxii.  11;  Is.,  liii.  10-12;  Acts,  ii.  30,  31. 


446  CnARLBS    PETTIT    McILVAINE. 

all  history,  if  we  question  the  evidence  of  his  appeai-ance  in  the  body, 
after  his  crucifixion  ;  what  excuse  can  be  devised  for  not  beUeving  that 
he  has  risen  indeed  ?  Will  any  resort  to  the  desperate  pretext  that  the 
disciples  were  deceived  ?  But,  as  men  of  ordinary  sense,  must  they  not 
have  known,  during  a  close  conversation  and  association  of  forty  days, 
Avhether  it  was  really  a  human  body,  and  the  body  of  Jesus,  which  they 
beheld,  or  not  ?  Will  you  imagine  a  miracle  of  blindness,  to  get  rid  of 
a  miracle  of  resurrection  ?  Will  you  take  another  expedient,  and  say 
they  were  not  deceived,  but  they  practiced  a  deception  ?  Then  you  must 
give  a  motive  to  account  for  such  a  deception.  You  must  explain  how 
men,  so  evidently  good  men,  and  the  teachers  of  so  much  goodness,  and 
the  influence  of  whose  teaching  was,  and  is,  to  make  all  deception  ab- 
horred and  despised ;  how  such  men  could  have  gone  out  into  a  world  in 
arms  against  them  and  their  doctrine,  and  preached  everywhere  the 
resurrection  of  Christ  as  the  great  seal  of  the  gospel  and  corner-stone  of 
their  message ;  knowing  that  they  would  draw  upon  them  the  utmost 
i-age  and  persecution  that  man  could  show ;  unshaken  by  any  dangers, 
unwearied  by  any  suiferings ;  cheerfully  losing  their  ail,  and  submitting 
to  tortui-es  and  death,  that  they  might  preach  Jesus  and  the  resurrection ; 
if  Christ  was  not  raised,  if  their  teaching  was  all  untrue,  then  "  were  they, 
of  all  men,  most  miserable,"  having  nothing  but  sufferings  here,  and  ex- 
pecting  to  answer  for  a  life-long  fraud  hereafter.  Will  you  imagine  a 
miracle  of  folly  that  you  may  escape  the  miracle  of  resurrection?  But 
there  was  an  evidence,  if  possible  more  convincing  even  than  the  appear 
ance  of  Jesus  to  his  disciples,  and  his  frequent  association  vnth  them.  It 
Avas  in  "  the  events  of  the  day  of  Pentecost." 

Here  we  remark,  in  general,  that  his  resurrection  was  the  great  sign 
and  crowning  miracle  to  which  our  Lord,  all  the  way  of  his  ministry,  to 
the  day  of  his  crucifixion,  referred  both  friends  and  opposers,  for  the  final 
confirmation  of  all  his  claims  and  doctrines.  He  staked  all  on  the  prom- 
ise that  he  would  rise  from  death.  The  Jews  asked  of  him  a  sign,  that 
they  might  believe.  He  answered,  "  There  shall  iio  sign  be  given,  but 
the  sign  of  the  prophet  Jonas.  For  as  Jonas  was  three  days  and  three 
nights  in  the  whale's  belly,  so  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  three  days  and 
three  nights  in  the  heart  of  the  earth."  (Matt.,  xii.  38-40.)  Again,  in 
answer  to  the  question  of  the  Jews,  "What  sign  showest  thou-?"  he 
jromised  the  same  sign  :  "Destroy  this  temple  and  in  three  days  I  will 
raise  it  up."  "  He  spake,"  says  the  Evangelist,  "  of  the  temple  of  his 
body."  (John,  ii.  19.)  Thus,  on  that  single  event,  the  resurrection  of 
Chi-ist,  the  whole  of  Christianity,  as  it  all  centers  in,  and  depends  on  him, 
was  made  to  hinge.  Redemption  waited  the  evidence  of  resurrection. 
Nothing  was  to  be  accounted  as  sealed  and  finally  certified,  till  Jesus 
should  deliver  himself  from  the  power  of  death.  All  of  the  gospel,  all 
tlie  hopes  it  brings  to  us,  all  the  promises  with  which  it  comforts  us,  were 
t:iken  for  their  final  verdict,  as  true  or  false,  sufficient  or  worthless,  to 


THE     EESURRECTION     OF     CHRIST.  447 

'tho  door  of  that  jealously-guarded  and  stoue-sealed  sepulcher,  waiting  the 
settlement  of  the  question,  icill  he  rise? 

It  was  a  wondrous  sign  to  choose.  The  mere  selection  of  such  a  sign 
by  Christ  himself,  %vas  itself  a  very  strong  evidence  of  what  its  accom- 
plishment was  to  prove.  We  do  not  wonder  that  the  enmity  of  the 
Jews  was  all  centered  upon  the  watching  of  that  gate.  It  was  a  serious 
night  indeed,  to  friends  and  foes,  and  Avell  appreciated  among  the  powers 
of  darkness,  when  that  great  sign  was  to  be  seen  or  else  the  gospel 
finally  contradicted.  But  an  event  so  momentous  was  not  left  to  but 
one  class  of  evidences.  There  was  a  way  by  w^hich  thousands  at  once 
■were  made  to  receive  as  j^owerful  assurance  that  .Christ  was  risen,  as  it 
they  had  seen  him  in  his  risen  body.  Jesus,  before  his  death,  had  made 
a  gi-eat  promise  to  his  disciples,  to  be  fulfilled  by  him  only  after  his 
death  and  resurrection  ;  a  promise  impossible  to  be  fulfilled  if  his  res- 
urrection failed ;  because  then,  not  only  would  he  be  under  the  power 
of  death,  but  all  his  claim  to  divine  poAver  would  be  brought  to  naught. 
It  was  the  promise  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  "  When  the  Comforter  is  come 
■irhom  I  will  send  unto  you  from  the  Father,  even  the  Spirit  of  truth 
which  proceedeth  fi'om  the  Father,  he  shall  testify  of  m.e^''  "  he  shall  glo- 
rify me?''     (John,  xv.  26  and  xvi.  14.) 

It  was  after  he  had  "  shown  himself  alive  after  his  passion  by  many 
infallible  proofs,  being  seen  of  his  disciples  forty  days,  and  speaking  to 
them  of  the  things  pertaining  to  the  kingdom  of  God,"  that  the  day  for 
the  accomplishment  of  that  promise  came.  The  day  w^as  that  which 
commemorated  the  giving  of  the  law  on  Mount  Sinai.  It  was  now  to 
Avitness  the  going  forth  of  the  gospel  from  Jerusalem.  I  need  not  relate 
to  you  the  wonderful  events  of  that  day  of  Pentecost,  the  coming  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  with  the  "sound  as  of  a  rushing  mighty  wind,"  that  "filled 
all  the  house ;"  the  "  cloven  tongues  like  as  of  fire,"  which  sat  on  each 
of  the  disciples;  the  evidence  that  it  was  the  Spirit  of  God  Avhich  had 
then  come,  given  in  the  sudden  and  astonishing  change  which  imme- 
diately came  over  the  apostles,  transfoiming  them  from  weak  and  timid 
men  to  the  boldest  and  strongest ;  hi  the  change  which  suddenly  came 
upon  the  power  of  their  ministry,  converting  it  from  the  weak  agent  it 
Lad  previously  been,  in  contact  with  all  the  unbelief  and  Avickedness  of 
men,  into  an  instrument  so  mighty,  that  out  of  a  congregation  of  Jews 
of  all  nations,  many  of  Avhom  had  probably  partaken  in  the  crucifixion 
of  Christ,  three  thousand  that  day  Avere  bowed  down  to  repentance  and 
subdued  to  his  obedience.  I  need  not  remind  you  of  the  miraculous 
attestation  that  all  this  was  from  God,  in  the  sudden  gift  to  the  apostles 
of  divers  tongues,  Avhereby  they  pi-eached  to  an  audience  from  all  na- 
tions, in  the  sevei-al  languages  in  which  they  were  born ;  nor  need  I  tell 
you  of  the  immense  number  of  people  that  Avitnessed  all  these  things. 
Thus  the  poAver  of  God  testified  of  Jesus.  Thus  Jesus  made  good  his 
Avord,  "I  Avill  send  the  Holy  Ghost  and  he  shall  testify  of  me."     How 


448  CHARLES    PETTIT     McILVAINE. 

could  he  thus  employ  the  power  of  God,  if  the  great  sign  appointed- - 
his  resurrection,  had  failed  ?  How  could  he  thus  show  himself  mighty 
to  raise  thousands  from  the  death  of  sin,  and  to  make  his  apostles,  in  a 
moment,  preachers  in  all  languages,  if  the  power  of  death  were  still 
upon  him  ?  How  could  he  send  the  Holy  Ghost  and  show  such  mighty 
signs,  who  was  still  bound  in  the  sepulcher  ? 

Thus  was  the  day  of  Pentecost  a  great  day  of  testimony  to  the  life 
and  divine  power,  and  consequently  the  resurrection,  of  Christ.  Each 
of  those  who  heard  the  divers  tongues  of  the  rninistry  of  that  day,  each 
of  the  three  thousand,  was  a  wdtness  to  the  same.  "The  signs  and  won- 
ders, and  divers  miracles,  and  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  by  which  God 
bore  witness  to  the  preaching  of  the  apostles,  as  in  all  their  ministry 
they  made  the  resurrection  of  Christ  the  great  demonstration  of  their 
message,  all  testified  to  its  reality.  For,  would  God  accompany  with 
such  powers  the  constant  declaration  of  a  lie  ?  But  witnesses  have  been 
multiplying  by  thousands  ever  since.  Every  man  that  receives  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  raise  him  from  the  death  of  sin  to  the  life  of  righteousness,  is 
a  witness.  He  can  testify  that  Christ  now  liveth,  and  is  exalted  to  the 
right  hand  of  power,  and  is  able  to  make  good  all  his  word,  because  he 
hath  given  him  his  Spirit.  He  hath  given  him  a  new  heart ;  he  hath 
done  that  for  him  which  only  a  power  above  man  could  do,  and  which 
no  faith  but  a  Christian  faith  ever  obtained.  And  his  question  is,  Can 
he  be  dead,  lying  under  the  dominion  of  the  gi'ave  ?  Can  he  have  beeu 
rejected  of  God,  who  hath  the  living  power  to  do  these  things  ?  Thus 
will  the  evidence  of  our  Lord's  resurrection  be  increasing  with  every 
new  spiritual  resurrection  among  the  children  of  this  world,  until  that 
day  when  he  shall  "  come  in  the  glory  of  his  Father  and  all  his  angels 
with  him,"  and  when  "  every  eye  shall  see  huu,  and  they  also  which 
pierced  him."  Then  will  "the  power  of  his  resiirrection"  be  known  in 
the  universal  rising  of  the  dead  at  his  word. 

We  said,  the  words  of  the  text,  in  the  mouths  of  the  apostles,  were 
words  of  conmction  and  of  joy  fulness.  Under  the  latter  head  we  pro- 
ceed next  to  consider  the  subject  contained  in  them: 

H.  Words  of  joy  fulness.  "77i<3  Lord  is  risen  indeed.'''' 
The  resurrection  of  Christ  was  the  resurrection  of  the  faith  and  hopes 
of  his  disciples  to  a  new  life  and  vigor.  It  made  them  new  creatures,  as 
to  all  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  "Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  Avho,  according  to  his  abundant  mercy,  hath  be- 
gotten us  again  unto  a  lively  hope,  by  the  resurrectifm  of  Jesus  Christ 
from  the  dead,  to  an  inheiitance  incorruptible  and  undefiled,  and  that 
fadeth  not  away."  (l  Peter,  i.  3,  4.)  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed,"  was 
an  exclamation  of  joy  equivalent  to,  His  kingdom  shall  embrace  all  na- 
tions; our  foith  shall  overcome  the  world ;  death  is  conquered;  eternal 
life  is  the  heritage  of  all  believers. 


THE     RESUll  RECTI  OX     OF     CHRIST.  '        4^9 

1.  Let  us  consider  the  resurrection  of  Christ  in  its  connection  with 
his  death  as  an  atoning  sacrifice  for  sin.  Suppose  that  after  we  have 
commemorated  his  crucifixion,  in  the  solemn  services  of  our  "  Good  Fri- 
day," we  had  no  I'esurrection  to  commemorate  in  the  customary  praises 
ol  our  "  Easter  Simday,"  what  consolation  would  there  be  to  us  in  the 
former?  You  know  that  Jesus  became  "  obedient  unto  the  death  of  the 
cross"  as  our  si<rcfy.  "He  was  made  sin  for  us."  "The  Lord  laid  on 
him  the  iniquities  of  us  all."  Our  sins  being  thus  imputed  to  him  as  our 
representative,  he  was  treated,  in  his  death,  by  him  to  whom  atonement 
was  offered,  as  if  our  guilt  were  his  own.  He  was  held  under  the  arrest 
of  the  law  of  God.  Its  penalty  was  required  of  him.  Every  jot  and 
tittle  was  he  to  pay,  and  not  till  all  was  discharged  could  he  be  justified 
from  the  imputed  sin,  and  delivered  from  its  bonds.  He  did  satisfy  the 
law  to  the  uttermost,  and  was  justified  in  behalf  of  all  those  in  whose 
])lace  he  stood,  and  for  whom  he  died.  But  how  is  that  ascertained  ? 
Where  is  the  evidence  ?  By  what  hath  God  declared  it  ?  The  only 
conclusive  evidence  of  justification  from  the  imputation  of  sin,  is  the 
release  of  him  to  whose  account  it  is  laid.  Then  if  my  surety  were  still 
under  the  bonds  of  death,  and  lying  in  its  prison,  must  I  not  suppose  that 
the  arrest  of  the  law  which  he  came  to  satisfy,  is  still  holding  him ;  that 
tlie  price  of  my  redemption  has  not  been  all  jjaid,  or  has  not  been  ac- 
cepted ;  and,  therefore,  that  my  hope  is  vain,  and  I  am  yet  under  con- 
demnation? But  Christ  is  risen  indeed.  The  law  has  delivered  its 
prisoner.  The  surety  comes  forth  from  the  grave.  "  Death  hath  no 
more  dominion  over  him."  He  is  ^'■justified  in  the  /Spirit,''^  by  the  power 
of  his  own  Spirit  raising  him  from  the  dead.  Thus  was  his  justification 
fi'om  the  imputed  sins  of  men,  declared  by  the  Spirit,  that  he  might  be 
"believed  on  in  the  world."  (1  Tim.,  iii.  16.)  In  his  resurrection,  "God 
hath  given  assurance  unto  all  men,"  that  the  atonement  was  finished  and 
accepted,  the  surety  discharged,  the  hand-writing  against  us  nailed  to  liis 
cross,  the  way  of  a  free  and  full  remission  of  sins  laid  open  ;  that  Jesus  is 
"  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  who  come  unto  God  by  him,"  and  that 
in  him,  whosoever  believeth  shall  be  justified  perfectly,  and  have  peace  with 
(iod.  Thus  you  perceive  the  close  connection  between  his  being  "  de- 
livered for  our  offenses  and  raised  again  for  our  justification.'''' 

2.  Let  us  consider  the  resurrection  of  our  Lord  in  connection  with 
Jtis  making  i7itercession  for  us. 

You  must  not  suppose  that  the  whole  work  of  Christ,  as  the  ofterer 
of  a  propitiation,  was  finished  on  the  cross.  The  death  of  the  sacrifice 
was  there  finished.  All  of  the  oflice  of  our  atoning  priest  and  victim 
tliat  pertained  to  the  altar  of  sacrifice  in  the  court  ol  the  sanctuary,  was 
there  completed.  But  there  was  a  Avork  remaining  to  be  done  within 
tiie  vail,  in  the  most  holy  place  of  tlie  sanctuary  on  high,  in  the  presence 
of  God  the  Father — a  work  of  oblation  and  intercession,  in  the  presenta- 
tion of  the  sacrifice. 

29 


450  CHARLES    PETTIT    McILVAINE. 

Those  two  chief  parts  in  the  Saviour's  priesthood,  were  showed  in  the 
typical  office  of  the  Levitical  high  priest  on  "  the  great  day  of  atone- 
}nent."  In  the  solemn  services  of  the  annual  expiation,  there  M'ere  two 
main  acts :  the  slaying  of  the  victim,  and  the  presentation  or  oblation 
of  the  sacrifice.  The  former  was  done  only  at  the  altar  of  burnt-oifer- 
ings  in  the  court  of  the  temple ;  the  latter  only  within  the  inner  vail, 
when  the  high  priest  entered  the  most  holy  place,  with  the  blood,  and 
sprinkled  it  before  the  mercy-seat.  The  second  was  as  essential  as  the 
lirst.  It  was  only  when  the  oblation  in  the  most  holy  place  had  been 
added  to  the  sacrificing  in  the  court  of  the  sanctuary,  that  the  propitia- 
tion became  effectual. 

This  type  could  be  fulfilled  in  our  Lord,  only  when  he  who  was  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,  should  rise  from  death  as  our  ever-living  priest, 
and  ascend  in  the  body  that  was  slain  to  "  the  tabernacle  in  the  heavens," 
there  to  present  himself  as  the  Lamb  of  God,  before  God,  and  make  in- 
tercession for  us,  in  virtue  of  his  having  been  sacrificed  for  us.  Resur- 
rection was  thus  essential.  How  could  St.  Paul  have  put  forth  that 
triumphant  challenge,  "  who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  the  charge  of  God's 
elect  ?"  if  he  could  not  have  said,  as  the  strength  of  his  confidence,  "  it 
is  Christ  that  died ;  .yea,  rather  that  is  risen  again^  who  is  even  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  who  also  maketh  intercession  for  us  ?"  Here  is  first 
the  initiatory  work  of  our  justification,  Christ  hath  died ;  then  the 
finishing  work  on  his  part,  his  intercession  for  us  at  God's  right  hand  ; 
and  between  them  is  the  connecting  fact,  he  is  risen  again.  The  cross 
being  thus  connected  with  the  throne — the  death  with  the  intercession 
by  mean^  of  resurrection — we  have  the  one  jTierfect  and  sufficient  obla- 
tion and  satisfaction  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world. 

Thus  all  the  precious  mercies  that  flows  down  upon  a  guilty  world, 
through  Christ — all  that  justifies  the  believer — all  that  sanctifies  the 
sinner — all  the  grace  by  which  our  weakness  is  made  strong,  and  our 
darkness  is  made  "  light  in  the  Lord  ;"  every  present  consolation  in 
Christ,  and  all  that  we  hope  to  find  in  him  during  the  trial  of  death, 
amid  the  solemnities  of  the  judgment-day,  and  in  the  everlasting  blessed- 
ness of  the  kingdom  of  God — as  all  depend  on  the  completion  of  his 
office  in  his  everlasting  priesthood  in  heaven,  so  all  combine  to  teach  us 
the  joyfulness  of  the  assurance  that  "  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed." 

3.  Let  us  next  consider  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  as  it  is  connected 
with,  and  insures,  the  promised  triumphs  of  his  church. 

The  church  is  the  mystical  body  of  Christ,  inhabited  and  made  ali^e 
\into  God  by  his  Holy  Spirit,  as  his  natural  body  was  inhabited  by  his 
human  soul.  Of  the  latter,  the  promise  was,  that  "  his  soul  shoidd  not 
he  left  in  hell.,  neither  shoidd  his  flesh  see  corruption.''''  Concerning  the 
former,  the  promise  is,  "  the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  it?'' 
In  both  promises  the  word  hell  stands,  as  in  the  Apostle's  Creed,  for 
Hades — the  region  and  dominion  of  death.     In  the  first  promise,  the 


THE     RESURRECTIONS^     OF    CHRIST.  451 

meaning  was,  tliat  the  i-)owers  of  death  should  not  be  permitted  to  keep 
the  natural  body  of  our  Lord  in  their  dominions.  In  the  second,  the 
meaning  was,  that  all  the  powers  of  darkness,  sitting  in  the  gates  of  the 
dominion  of  death,  and  pouring  forth  from  thence  their  forces  against 
his  mystical  body,  the  church,  should  not  finally  jwevail  against  it. 

How  the  powers  of  hell  endeavored,  not  only  to  subdue  the  Captain 
of  our  salvation,  but  after  he  was  shut  up  within  the  gates  of  death,  to 
hold  him  there,  and  when  he  arose  from  the  dead,  to  persuade  men 
that  he  was  still  there,  I  need  not  tell  you.  How  impossible  it  Avas  that 
he  should  be  holden  of  them,  when  the  set  time  to  come  forth  had  ar- 
rived ;  how  the  guard  was  made  to  swoon  away,  and  there  was  a  great 
earthquake,  and  an  angel  rolled  the  stone  from  the  mouth  of  his  tomb, 
and  Jesus  came  forth,  bearing  "  the  keys  of  death  and  of  hell,"  the  mighty 
conqueror,  to  reign  forever  and  ever,  I  need  not  tell  you.  But  in  that 
triumph,  we  read  how  easily  and  how  certainly  he  will  see  that  the  gates 
of  hell  shall  not  prevail  against  his  church.  It  is  the  pledge  and  earnest 
that  all  his  glorious  promises  concerning  her  shall  be  fulfilled. 

Very  precious  and  glorious  are  those  promises.  The  church  is  to 
embrace  all  nations.  The  stone  "  cut  out  of  the  mountains,  without 
hands,"  is  to  become  a  great  mountain,  and  fill  the  whole  earth  (Dan., 
ii.  34,  35-45.)  "  The  kingdom,  and  dominion,  and  greatness  of  the  king- 
dom under  the  whole  heaven  shall  be  given  to  the  people  of  the  saints 
of  the  Most  High,  wliose  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom,  and  all 
dominions  shall  serve  and  obey  him."  (Dan.,  vii.  27.)  The  long-dispersed 
of  Israel  and  Judah  are  to  be  summoned  from  out  of  all  nations, 
gathered  to  their  own  land,  converted  to  Christ.*  Then  shall  "the 
fullness  of  the  Gentiles  come  in,"  and  be  "as  life  fi-om  the  dead"  (Rom., 
xi.  25  and  15). 

But  man  demands  a  sign  from  heaven  to  convince  him  that  such  things 
are  possible.  "  What  sign  showest  thou,  seeing  thou  wilt  do  all  these 
things?"  The  answer  is,  the  sign  has  already  been  given:  "I  am  he 
that  livcth,  and  was  dead  ;  and  behold,  I  am  alive  for  evermore.  Amen, 
and  have  the  keys  of  hell  and  death"  (Rev.,  i.  18).  Jesus,  risen  from  the 
dead,  is  the  sign  unto  the  end  of  the  world,  to  assure  the  church  and  the 
M'orld  that  not  a  jot  or  tittle  of  what  he  hath  promised  by  the  Scriptures, 
shall  fail.  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  saith  the  Lord.  "Fear 
not,  therefore,  little,  flock,  for  it  is  your  Father's  good  pleasure  to  give 
you  the  kingdom."  "  Because  I  live,  ye  shall  live  also."  Great  tribu- 
lations and  persecutions,  and  falling  away  from  the  truth,  may  yet 
befall  the  church,  as  in  times  past.  It  may  seem,  once  more,  as  if  she 
had  gone  almost  to  the  grave.  Priests  of  Antichrist,  in  league  with  the 
gates  of  hell,  may  conspire  to  keep  her-  in  prison  and  in  darkness,  last 
bound  in  chains,  such  as  they  well  know  how  to  forge.  But  they  shall 
not  prevail.  The  captive  shall  be  delivered.  "Tlie  Lord  .shall  be  her 
*  Ezek.,  xxxvL  24-29,  and  xxxvii.  15-26. 


452  CHARLES    PETTIT     McILVAINE. 

light,"  and  "the  days  of  her  mourning  shall  be  ended."  Such,  in  point 
of  tribulation,  has  been  her  history  more  than  once  already.  Think  of 
the  fearful  corruption,  and  darkness,  and  bondage,  and  persecution,  and 
spiritual  death,  with  which  the  Papal  dominion,  the  power  of  "the  man 
of  sin,"  who,  "as  God  sitteth  in  the  temple  of  God,  showing  himself  that 
he  is  God"  (2  Thess.,  ii.  3,  4),  did  once,  and  for  a  long  time,  oppress  the 
church  of  Christ,  and  drove  the  few  faithful  witnesses  of  the  truth,  that 
remained,  into  the  wilderness,  into  prisons,  and  dens,  and  caves  of  the 
earth,  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  there  was  hardly  faith  left  on  the  earth. 
But,  though  Amalek  was  thus  long  victorious,  there  were  a  faithful  few — 
a  little  scattered  flock,  a  remnant,  as  in  the  days  of  Elijah,  the  prophet — 
who  held  up  their  hands  to  God  in  prayer,  and  ceased  not  till  God  raised 
lip  his  fliithful  witness,  Martin  Luther,  and  gave  him  the  trumpet  of  the 
sanctuary,  to  sound  an  alarm,  and  proclaim  ancAV  his  truth.  The  won- 
derful awakening  of  the  church, 'as  from  the  dead,  in  that  day — that 
manifestation  of  the  power  of  her  risen  Head,  to  be  unto  her  "  the 
resurrection  and  the  life,"  is  a  standing  and  glorious  testimony  to  all 
ages,  and  for  all  future  trials,  how  little  her  faithful  peo})le  have  to  fear, 
and  how  certain  are  the  promises  of  a  final  possession,  by  her  Lord,  of 
the  whole  kingdom  of  this  world,  in  his  time.  Her  grave-clothes  shall  be 
laid  aside;  her  sackcloth  will  be  cast  away.  "  As  a  bride  adorned  with 
her  jewels,"  will  she  come  forth,  leaning  on  the  hand  of  her  Lord. 
"  Voices  in  heaven"  shall  be  heard,  saying,  "  The  kiiigdoms  of  this  world 
are  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Christ,  and  he  shall 
reign  forever  and  ever." 

Xow,  it  deserves  your  attention,  that  when  the  Scriptures  speak  of 
great  conversions  of  nations  and  milhons  to  the  gospel,  as  connected 
with  the  second  advent  of  our  Lord,  and  which  are  to  bring  in  his  millen- 
nial reign,  the  change  is  represented  as  one  of  impossibility  to  human- 
strength,  of  hopelessness  to  human  wisdom  and  foresight,  of  magnitude, 
and  Avonder,  and  miracle,  equal  to  that  of  a  resurrection  of  the  dead. 
Read  the  thirty-seventh  chapter  of  Ezekiel.  It  is  an  account  of  the  re- 
storation of  the  Jews,  of  the  lost  ten  tribes,  as  of  Judah  and  Benjamin,  to 
their  own  land  ;  their  being  united  together  again  as  one  nation  ;  their 
being  cleansed  from  their  sins  and  converte'd  to  Christ,  so  as  to  have  the 
Son  of  David  for  their  acknowdedged  King  and  Shepherd  forever,  and 
his  sanctuary  in  the  midst  of  them  forevermore  ;  and  all  these  wonderful 
changes  are  described  imder  the  figure  of  the  resurrection  of  a  whole 
nation  from  tlie  dead.  The  prophet  was  "  carried  out  in  the  spirit  of 
the  Lord,  and  set  down  in  the  midst  of  a  valley  which  was  full  of  bones," 
and  was  made  to  pass  round  them  to  observe  their  state.  "  There  were 
very  many  in  the  open  valley,  and  lo,  tliey  were  very  dry."  Th^^n  the 
question  was  asked  him :  Can  these  bones  live  f  In  other  words,  what 
can  be  more  hopeless,  to  all  human  view,  than  the  condition  of  these 
bones  ?     How^  is  it  possible  they  can  be  gathered  from  thb  wide  and 


THE     RESURRECTION     OF     CnRIST.  453 

promiscuous  dispersion,  so  xorig  exposed  and  bleaclied,  and  mingled 
togetlier  in  this  open  valley,  carried  by  beasts  of  prey  hitlier  and  thither  ? 
How  can  they  be  made  to  resume  their  former  places,  each  in  its  own 
body,  bone  to  its  bone,  and  stand  up  alive?  The  prophet's  faith  could 
answer  no  further  than  by  referring  the  question  to  the  power  of  God : 
"  O  Lord  God,  thou  knowest."  Then  came  the  command  :  "  Projihesy 
upon  these  bones  ;  say  unto  them,  '  Hear  the  word  of  the  Lord.'  "  How 
can  the  dead  hear  ?  But  the  prophet  obeyed.  "And  there  was  a  noise, 
and  behold  a  shakhig,  and  bones  came  to  bones,  bone  to  his  honeP  Each 
resumed  its  original  place  in  its  own  body,  "  and  the  sinews  and  the  flesh 
came  upon  them,  and  the  skin  covered  them  above."  But  as  yet  there 
was  no  life  in  them.  The  prophet,  as  commanded,  prophesied  again, 
and  "  the  breath  came  into  them,  and  they  lived  and  stood  up  an  exceed- 
ing great  army."  Then  came  the  interpretation  of  the  Lord  :  "  Tliese 
bones  are  the  whole  house  of  Israel ;  behold,  they  say,  '  Our  bones  are 
dried,  and  our  hope  is  lost.'  Behold,  O  my  people,  I  will  open  your 
graves,  and  cause  you  to  come  out  of  your  graves,  and  bring  you  into 
the  land  of  Israel,  and  put  my  Spirit  m  you,  and  ye  shall  live  and  know 
that  I  am  the  Lord." 

Now,  what  says  the  unbelief  of  the  world,  as  it  looks  over  the  present 
condition  of  the  Jews,  so  widely  dispersed,  so  mixed  up  among  them- 
selves, so  mixed  up  among  all  nations — the  ten  tribes  so  lost  that  none 
know  where  they  are — all  so  hardened  against  the  gospel?  "Surely 
their  bones  are  diied,  and  their  hope  is  lost."  We  ask  the  faith  of  man, 
"  Can  these  diy  bones  live  ?"  Can  the  promises  of  the  Scriptures,  con- 
corning  these  people,  be  fulfilled  ?  We  do  not  wonder  that  many  ridi- 
cule the  idea ;  that  others  are  unable  to  entertain  it,  seeing  how  few  are 
content  with  the  answer  of  the  prophet :  "  Lord,  thou  knowest."  The 
difficulties  are  as  insu]>erable  to  human  might  as  the  raising  of  the  dead. 
So  was  it  intended  that  we  should  regard  them.  We  have  no  desire  to 
lessen  the  appearance  of  impossibility,  except  to  him  who  is  "the  Resur- 
rection and  the  Life." 

But  carry  the  use  of  the  prophet's  vision  beyond  the  people  of  Israel. 
The  state  of  the  population  of  the  whole  unconverted  world  may  be  seen 
in  that  valley  of  bones.  Converted  unto  God  it  is  all  to  be.  The  hea- 
then are  already  given  to  the  Lord,  our  Saviour,  "  for  an  inheritance,  and 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  a  possession  ;"  and  a  day  is  fast 
coming,  when  the  possession  and  inheritance  shall  be,  not  only  given, 
buti  received  and  entered  on.  But  what  immeasurable  difficulties  oppose 
such  a  conversion  and  regeneration  :  such  impossibilities  !  What!  shall 
the  little  flock  of  the  true  people  of  God  possess  such  a  kingdom  ?  Shall 
this  little  stone  ever  fill  the  whole  earth  ?  Can  all  these  nations,  so  long 
dead  and  buried  under  vices,  and  superstitions,  and  idolatries,  and  all 
darkness,  and  perversions  of  mind  for  so  many  centuries — can  they  be 
made  all  to  turn  unto  Christ,  and  live  as  his  peojile  ?     Make  the  hope 


45i  CHARLES     PETTIT     McILVAINE. 

lessncss  of  such  an  event,  to  human  power,  as  great  as  you  please.  The 
reality  can  not  be  exaggerated.  Hopeless  it  is,  indeed,  if  the  power  of 
the  church,  without  the  power  of  its  Lord,  or  without  a  far  mightier 
putting  forth  of  his  power,  than  the  church  has  known  since  her  first 
days,  is  to  be  our  whole  trust".  But  our  assured  answer  to  all  difficulties, 
is,  the  resurrection  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  from  the  dead.  His  word 
assures  us  that  such  great  things  are  pror/nsed.  His  resurrection  assures 
us  that,  because  promised,  they  can  and  will  be  accomplished.  What  is 
there  in  all  of  them  more  hopeless,  more  impossible,  than  seemed  the 
resurrection  of  Christ,  during  those  days  in  which  he  lay  in  the  grave? 
To  the  heathen,  nothing  was  more  impossible  than  that  the  dead  should, 
be  raiseVl.  Pliny  said,  that  to  bring  them  back  to  life  {revocare  de- 
functos),  was  one  of  those  things  which  even  God  could  not  do.  Fes- 
tus  thought  Paul  mad,  and  the  Athenians  mocked  at  him,  because  he 
preached  the  resurrection.  And.  are  there  any  bonds  holding  the  Jews 
in  unbelief,  stronger  than  those  Avhich  held  our  Lord's  body  in  death  ? 
Are  there  any  barriers  between  the  resuscitation  of  the  Jews,  as  a  nation, 
and  their  being  restored  to  their  own  land,  more  impassable  than  those 
between  our  dead  and.  buried  Lord,  and  the  kingdom  on  high,  to  which 
he  ascended  ?  Have  the  powers  of  darkness  a  more  hopeless  dominion 
over  the  heathen  world,  than  they  seemed  to  have  obtained  over  the 
rejected,  and  crucified,  and  lifeless  Head  of  the  promises  of  the  gos- 
pel ?  Is  there  any  thing  to  discourage  the  Christian  from  expecting  that 
the  J  sws,  and  the  lieathen,  will  ever  live  unto  God  as  a  Christian  people 
and  church  ?  Is  there  any  thing  to  make  the  unbeHever  mock  at  such 
an  expectation,  which  had  not  its  perfect  equal  when  Jesus  lay  in  the 
sepulcher,  his  disciples  scattered  and  dismayed,  his  enemies  scoffing  and 
triumphing  ?  But  "  the  Lord  is  risen  indeed."  Those  impossibilities 
were  all  brought  to  naught.  He  rose,  the  "  Lord  of  all  power  and 
mio'ht."  Death  could  not  hold  him  from  ascending  to  his  Father.  The 
nation-s  could  not  prevent  him  from  fulfilling  his  word.  All  that  he  hath 
said  shall  be  done.  The  greatest  is  done  already.  Did  he  raise  himself 
from  death?  Then  he  can,  and  will,  bring  Jews  and  Gentiles  to  spirit- 
ual life,  because  he  has  promised.  God  hath  given  assurance  unto  all 
-men  in  that  he  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead. 

Lastly,  we  must  consider  the  resurrection  of  Christ  in  its  connection 
with  that  of  his  peop)le,  who  sleep  in  him.  There  must  be  "  the  redemp- 
tion of  the  bodi/,''^  because  ma7i  is  already  redeemed.  Our  Lord  will  not 
leave  his  Avork  unfinished.  "  Your  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,"  and  he  will  not  leave  it  in  ruin  and  desolation,  polluted  and  out- 
cast. Ho  will  build  it  again,  and  in  far  more  than  its  original  beauty.  It 
partook  of  the  sin,  and  the  condemnation,  and  penalty.  In  the  case  of 
all  believers,  it  must  partake  of  the  justification  and  the  glory.  What 
God  joined  together  in  the  fall,  he  will  join  together  in  the  restoration. 
"  We  shall  all  be  changed,  m  a  moment,  in  the  twiukUng  of  an  eye,  at 


THE     RESURKE  CTIOX     OF     ClilUST.  455 

the  last  trump."  "  This  corruptible  must  put  on  iiicorruption,  and  this 
mortal,  immortality."  The  sign,  the  pledge,  the  assurance  of  all  is,  that 
the  Lord  is  risen.  Believers  are  members  of  a  mystical  body,  of  which 
he  is  head.  Because  he  lives,  they  shall  live  also.  He  can  no  more  per- 
mit the  gates  of  hell  to  prevail  over  them,  to  keep  them  in  death,  than 
he  -would  allow  them  to  prevail  over  him.  When  he  rose,  as  when  he 
died  and  was  buried,  it  was  in  his  federal  relation  as  a  surety  and  rep- 
resentative of  his  people.  In  him  the  believer  rose  also.  Our  graves 
were  opened  when  the  stone  was  rolled  from  his  sepulcher.  Our  victory 
over  death  was  secured  when  he  burst  its  bands  and  came  forth  free. 
Beautifully  is  the  argument — from  his  resurrection  to  ours — deUvered  in 
St.  Paul's  allusion  to  the  presentatioii  of  the  sheaf  of  the  iirst  ripe  wheat 
in  the  temple.  "  Now  is  Christ  risen  fi'ora  the  dead,  and  become  the 
tirst-fruits  of  them  that  slept."  The  Jews  were  prohibited  the  gather- 
ing of  the  harvest,  until  the  first-fruits  were  offered  to  God  as  an  ao- 
knowledgraent  of  his  goodness  in  tlie  products  of  the  ground.  Till 
then,  the  harvest  was  regarded  as  unholy — unconsecrated.  The  great 
])roprietor  had  not  received  his  tribute.  That  done,  all  was  considered 
as  acknowledged  to  be  his  own,  and  was  received  by  the  people  as  from 
him,  and  the  harvest,  so  consecrated,  was  secure  to  be  reaped  and  gath- 
ered. Vast  is  the  harvest  of  the  dead,  lying  ungathered.  The  people 
of  God  of  all  generations,  in  the  graves  of  earth  and  sea,  under  all 
skies,  dust  on  dust,  an  immense  community,  precious  beyond  thought  to 
liim  who  died  for  them ;  what  a  field  from  which  the  angels  may  gather 
for  the  garner  of  heaven  !  It  is  all  ready,  only  waiting  "  the  voice  of 
the  archangel  and  the  trump  of  God,"  that  the  work  may  begin  ;  for  the 
iiist-fruits  have  been  already  presented.  Jesus,  "  the  first-begotten  from 
the  dead,"  hath  passed  within  the  vail,  and  now  appears  in  the  presence 
of  God  for  us.  Thus  the  w^hole  hai-vest  of  the  dead  in  Christ  is  conse- 
crated and  pledged.  It  must  be  gathered,  for  the  Lord  is  its  owner.  O, 
glorious  day,  when  the  trump  of  God  sounding  from  heaven  shall  give 
the  signal,  and,  "  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,"  the  dead  in 
Christ  shall  all  come  forth  !  O,  that  jubilee,  that  year  of  all  years,  and  end 
of  all  tinies,  for  which  all  cycles  and  dis2)ensations  have  been  preparing ; 
Avhen  every  bondsman  of  the  Lord's  household  now  in  the  captivity  of 
denth,  shall  go  free,  and  all  debts  of  God's  people  to  this  law  shall  be 
finally  canceled,  and  all  the  true  Israel,  from  their  wide  dispersions,  and 
separations,  and  bondage,  shall  go  home,  returning  "  to  Sion  with  songs 
and  everlasting  joy  on  their  heads ;"  when  loved  ones  shall  meet  again 
to  be  no  more  divided,  and  the  great  family,  the  vast  communion,  the 
universal  brotherhood  of  Christ,  shall  meet  in  their  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
to  keep  their  feast  of  redemption  and  blessedness  for  evermore  ;  every 
trace  of  the  curse  and  the  death  abolished  ;  every  risen  saint  beholding 
ill  each  brother'  the  likeness  of  the  glory  of  his  Lord !  That  will  be  a 
"  holy  convocation  unto  God,"  indeed.     How  will  they  crowd  thii  bat 


456  CHARLES    PETTIT     McILVAINE. 

tleraents  of  Sion,  to  look  clown  upon  the  deserted  graves,  and  the  whole 
vanquished  and  ruined  dominion  of  death,  whence  they  have  been  ran- 
somed !  How  Avill  they  fill  that  holy  city  with  their  praises,  as  they  cry 
with  one  voice,  "  Tlianks  be  to  God  which  giveth  us  the  victory  through 
our  Lord  Josus  Christ."  Then  will  it  be  said,  as  never  before  it  could 
fee  said,  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed" — risen  in  his  mystical  body,  the 
church ;  for  which,  in  his  natural  body,  he  died  and  rose  again.  Then 
his  work  is  done — redemption  is  complete  ;  the  fullness  of  his  glory,  as 
the  Saviour  of  sinners,  is  consummated,  and  the  year  of  his  redeemed  is 
eome.  O,  may  our  eyes  see  that  endless  year  !  May  our  feet  stand  in 
thy  gates,  O  Jerusalem ;  to  have  part  with  them  that  shall  keep  that 
feast ! 

Brethren,  what  shall  we  do  that  we  may  rise  to  that  resurrection  of 
life,  and  belong  to  that  blessed  company  ?  I  have  time  but  for  one  brief 
answer,  "  Seek  those  things  which  are  above,  where  Christ  sitteth  on  the 
right  hand  of  God.  Set  your  affections  on  things  aboA  e,  not  on  things 
on  the  earth,"  Make  Christ  your  heart's  treasure  and  hope,  and  he  will 
make  you,  and  keep  you  as  his  own  dear  treasure  ;  and  at  last  will  re- 
ceive you  unto  himself,  as  the  crown-jewels  of  his  kingdom. 


DISCOURSE    XXI II  I. 

FRANCIS    WAYLAND,    D.D.,    LL.U. 

The  venerable  ex-President  of  Brown  University  was  born  in  the  city  of  New 
York,  March  11,  1796.  Wlien  he  was  eleven  years  of  age,  his  father  removed  tc 
Poughkeepsie,  where  he  prepared  for  entrance  to  college,  under  the  care  of  Rev- 
Daniel  H.  Barnes.  In  1811  he  entered  Union  College,  nearly  two  years  in  ad- 
vance, and  graduated  in  1813.  He  studied  medicine  for  three  years,  and  then  re- 
linquished this  profession  for  the  ministr)'-.  In  1816  he  entered  the  Theological 
Seminary  of  Andover.  In  1817  he  was  appointed  tutor  in  Union  College;  and,  in 
1821,  he  was  called  to  the  pastorate  of  the  First  Bnptist  church,  in  Boston.  He 
returned  to  Union  College,  as  a  professor,  in  1826.  During  the  same  year  he  was 
elected  President  of  Brown  University,  Rhode  Island,  which  office  he  filled  with 
distinguished  honor  until  the  year  1855,  Avhen,  feeling  the  weight  of  years,  ho 
resigned,  to  find  relief  from  so  grave  responsibihties,  and  perfect  fqr  publication 
several  works  upon  which  it  is  understood  he  has  for  some  time  been  engaged. 
During  the  period  of  his  official  services.  Manning  Hall  and  Rhode  Island  College 
were  added  to  the  University  buildings,  the  library  became  one  of  tlie  most  valuable 
collection  of  books  on  the  continent,  and  the  resources  and  general  efficiency  of  the 
University  were  increased  fourfold. 

Dr.  Wayland  is  well  known  as  an  author.  His  principnl  literary  reputation  rests 
upon  his  "  Elements  of  Moral  Science,"  "  Elements  of  Political  Economy,"  and 
"  Elements  of  Intellectual  Philosophy,"  wliich  are  used  as  text-books  in  many 
schools  and  colleges.  Besides  these,  he  has  published  a  volume  of  sermons ; 
"  Thoughts  on  the  Collegiate  System  of  the  United  States ;"  "  Limitation  of  Hu- 
man Responsibib'ty ;"  and  "  Notes  on  Baptist  Principles  and  Practices."  He  also 
prepared  the  memoir  of  the  late  Dr.  Judson,  in  two  volumes. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Dr.  Wayland  is  stately  and  majestic,  well  befit- 
ting the  noble  intellect  witliin.  The  whole  aspect  of  the  man  is  such  as  would 
arrC'st  attention  in  the  largest  assembly.  He  is,  in  stature,  a  little  above  the  medium 
heiglit,  square  built,  and  massive.  His  head  has  been  spoken  of  as  one  which  a 
sculptor  might  have  taken  as  a  model  for  Jupiter;  and  the  dark  piercing  eyes 
gleam  out  from  beneath  bushy  black  brows,  which  in  their  turn  are  surmounted 
by  a  broad  forehead,  overtopped  by  iron-gray  hair. 

Few  men  have  exerted  a  more  important  influence  upon  the  educational  in- 
terests of  the  country  than  Dr.  Wayland,  both  by  his  writings,  and  his  profes- 
sional career.  At  the  same  time,  he  has  never  lost  sight  of  his  office  as  a  Christian 
minister.  He  has  almost  constantly  kept  up  the  habit  of  preaching,  and  in  private 
intercourse  as  well,  the  steadfast  aim  has  been  to  make  men  good  as  well  as  great 
He  is  now  acting  as  *^mporary  pastor  of  the  First  Baptist  church.  Providence. 


458  FRANCIS    WATLAND. 

The  writings  of  Dr.  Wayland  are,  in  respect  of  style,  models  of  pure,  crystalline, 
Anglo-Saxon  simplicity.  Some  of  their  peculiarities  are  brought  out  in  the  follow- 
ing contrast,  or  parallel,  between  himself  and  Dr.  Williams  :*  "  The  style  of  the 
two  is  as  widely  diverse  as  their  modes  of  thinking.  That  of  Dr.  Wayland  has 
the  advantage  in  perspicuity,  smiphcity,  and  classical  finish  and  elegance ;  that  of 
Dr.  Williams  excels  in  the  abundance  with  which  it  pours  forth  beautiful  thought 
and  imagery,  careless  of  graces,  and  j^et  perpetually  snatching  graces  beyond  the 
reach  of  art.  A  page  of  Dr.  Wayland  is  an  English  landscape,  chastened  by 
tasteful  cultivation,  into  severe  beauty  and  regulated  fertility ;  a  page  of  Dr. 
Williams  is  an  A  merican  forest — a  wilderness  of  untamed  magnificence  and  beauty. 
Dr.  Wayland  reminds  us  of  a  Grrecian  temple,  wrought  of  the  most  precious 
materials  into  the  most  pertect  symmetry  and  proportion;  Dr.  Williams,  of  a 
Gothic  catliedral,  gorgeous  in  Jts  manifold  decorations,  resounding  with  organ 
melodies,  and  clustering  with  the  solemn  associations  of  the  Middle  Ages." 

The  discourse  here  introduced  has,  long  bfren  regarded  as  one  of  the  American 
rehgious  classics.  It  was  delivered  before  the  Boston  Baptist  Foreign  Mission  So- 
ciety, October  26,  1823 ;  and  has  been  since  pnuted  in  a  great  variety  of  forms. 
As  any  representation  of  American  pulpit  eloquence  wc^U'  Ur"  n.PonipleJie  withou*- 
it,  no  apology  is  required  for  its  appearance  in  this  work. 


THE    MORAL    DIGNITY    OF    MISSIONS 

"  The  field  is  the  world." — Matthew,  xiii.  38. 

Philosophers  have  speculated  much  concerniDg  a  process  of  sensation 
which  has  commonly  been  denomhiated  the  emotion  of  sublimity 
Aware  that,  like  any  other  simple  feeling,  it  must  be  incapable  of  detiul 
tion,  they  have  seldom  attempted  to  define  it ;  but,  content  with  remark 
ing  the  occasions  on  which.it  is  excited,  have  told  us  that  it  arises,  in 
general,  from  the  contemplation  of  whatever  is  vast  in  nature,  sp]endi(i 
in  intellect,  or  lofty  in  morals.  Or,  to  express  the  same  idea  somewhat 
varied,  in  the  language  of  a  critic  of  antiquity,  "That  alone  is  truly 
sublime,  of  which  the  conception  is  vast,  the  effect  irresistible,  and. the 
remembrance  scarcely,  if  ever,  to  be  erased." 

But  although  philosophers  alone  ha^'e  Avritten  about  this  emotion,  they 
are  far  from. being  the  only  men  who  have  felt  it.  The  untutored  peas 
ant,  when  he  has  seen  the  autumnal  tempest  collecting  between  the  hills, 
and,  as  it  advanced,  enveloping  in  misty  obscurity  village  and  hamlet 
forest  and  meadoAv,  has  tasted  the  sublime  in  all  its  reality  ;  and  while  the 
thunder  has  rolled  and  the  Hghtning  flashed  around  him,  has  exulted  in  the 
view  of  nature  moving  forth  in  her  majesty.     The  imtaught  sailor  boy, 

*  See  artido  in  "  Christian  Review,"  vol.  xvii.,  by  Dr.  A,  C.  Kendrick. 


THE     MORAL    DIGNITY     OF     MISSIONS.  459 

listlessly  hearkening  to  the  idle  ripple  of  the  midnight  Avave,  when^  on  a 
sudden,  he  has  thought  niion  the  unfathomable  abyss  beneath  him,  and 
the  wide  waste  of  waters  around  him,  and  the  infinite  expanse  above  him, 
has  enjoyed,  to  the  full,  the  emotion  of  sublimity,  while  his  inmost  soul 
has  trembled  at  the  yastness  of  its  own  conceptions.  But  why  need  1 
multiply  illustrations  from  nature  ?  Who  does  not  recollect  the  emotions 
he  has  felt  Avhile  surveying  aught  in  tlie  material  world  of  terror  or  of 
vastness  ? 

And  this  sensation  is  not  produced  by  grandeur  in  material  objects 
alone.  It  is  also  excited  on  most  of  those  occasions  in  which  we  see  man 
tasking  to  the  uttermost  the  energies  of  his  intellectual  or  moi'al  nature. 
Through  the  long  lapse  of  centuries,  who,  without  emotion,  has  read  of 
Leoxidas  and  his  three  hundred,  throwing  themselves  as  a  barrier  be- 
fore the  myriads  of  Xerxes,  and  contending  unto  death  for  the  liberties 
of  Greece  ? 

But  we  need  not  turn  to  classic  story  to  find  all  that  is  great  in  human 
action  ;  we  find  it  in  our  own  times,  and  in  the  history  of  our  OAvn  coun- 
try. [Examples  of  Washington  and  others,  are  here  given.  The  ele- 
ments of  a  sublime  enterprise — vastness  of  conception,  arduousness  of 
execution,  simplicity  and  efficiency  of  means — are  stated ;  and  surprise 
is  expressed,  that  men  are  not  awake  to  the  sublime  in  the  scheme  of  hu- 
man redemption. — Ed.]  Perhaps  it  may  tend  somewhat  to  arouse  the 
apatliy  of  the  one  party,  as  well  as  to  moderate  the  contempt  of  the 
other,  if  we  can  show  that  this  very  missionary  caitse  combines  within 
itself  the  elements  of  all  that  is  sublinae  in  human  purpose,  nay,  com- 
bines them  in  a  loftier  perfection  than  any  other  enterprise  which  was 
e\er  linked  Avith  the  destinies  of  man.  To  show  this  will  be  our  design  ; 
and  in  prosecuting  it,  we  shall  direct  your  attention  to  the  grandeur  of 
the  object ;  the  arduousness  of  its  execution  ;  and  the  nature  of  the 
means  on  which  we  rely  for  success. 

I.  The  grandeur  of  the  ob,tect. 

In  the  most  enlarged  sense  of  terms,  the  field  is  the  world.  Our  de- 
sign is  radically  to  affect  the  temporal  and  eternal  interests  of  the  Avhole 
race  of  man.  We  have  surveyed  this  field  statistically.,  and  find,  that 
of  the  eight  hundred  millions  who  inhabit  our  globe,  but  two  hundred 
millions  have  any  knowledge  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  Of  these, 
we  are  willing  to  allow  that  but  one  half  are  his  real  disciples,  and  that 
therefore  are  there  seven  of  the  eight  millions  to  whom  the  gospel  must 
be  sent. 

We  have  surveyed  this  field  geographically.  We  liave  looked  upon 
our  own  continent,  and  have  seen  that,  Avith  the  exception  of  a  narrow 
strip  of  thinly-settled  country,  from  the  gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  the  A\'hole  of  this  new  world  lieth  in  wicked- 
ness.    Hordes  of  ruthless  savages  roam  the  wilderness  of  the  West,  and 


4C0  FRxlNCIS    WATLAND. 

men  almost  as  ignorant  of  the  spirit  of  tlie  gospel,  are  struggling  for 
independence  in  the  South. 

We  have  looked  over  Europe,  and  behold  there  one  nation  putting 
forth  her  energies  in  the  cause  of  evangelizing  the  world.  We  have 
looked  for  another  such  nation  ;  but  it  is  not  to  be  found.  A  few  others 
are  beginning  to  awake.  Most  of  them,  howevei-,  yet  slumber.  Many  are 
themselves  in  need  of  missionaries.  Nay,  we  know  not  but  the  movement  oi 
the  cause  of  man  in  Europe  is  at  present  retrogi-ade.  There  seems  too  ev- 
idently a  coalition  formed  of  the  powers  that  be,  to  check  the  progress  of 
moral  and  intellectual  improvement,  and  to  rivet  again  on  the  human  mind 
the  manacles  of  papal  superstition.  God  only  knows  how  soon  the  reac- 
tion will  commence,  which  shall  shake  the  continent  to  its  center,  scatter 
thrones  and  scepters  and  all  the  insignia  of  prescriptive  authority,  like 
the  dust  of  the  summer's  threshing-floor,  and  establish  throughout  the 
Christian  world  representative  governments,  on  the  broad  basis  of  com- 
mon sense  and  inalienable  right. 

We  have  looked  over  Africa,  and  have  seen  that,  upon  one  little  por- 
tion, reclaimed  from  brutal  idolatry  by  missionaries,  the  Son  of  right- 
eousness has  shined.  It  is  a  land  of  Goshen,  where  they  have  liglit  in 
their  dwellings.  Upon  all  the  remainder  of  this  vast  continent,  there 
broods  a  moral  darkness,  impervious  as  that  which  once  vailed  her  own 
Egypt,  on  that  prolonged  and  fearful  night  when  no  man  knev,^  his 
brother. 

We  have  looked  iipon  Asia,  and  have  seen  its  northern  nations,  though 
xmder  the  government  of  a  Chiistian  prince,  scarcely  nominally  Christ- 
ian. On  the  West,  it  is  spell-bound  by  Mohammedan  delusion.  To  the 
South,  from  the  Persian  gulf  to  the  sea  of  Kamschatka,  including  also 
its  numberless  islands,  except  where  here  and  there  a  Syrian  church  or  a 
missionary  station  twinkles  amid  the  gloom,  the  whole  of  this  immense 
portion  of  the  human  race  is  stiting  in  the  region  and  shadow  of 
death.  Such,  then,  is  the  field  for  our  exertion.  It  encircles  the  whole 
family  of  man ;  it  includes  every  unevangelized  being  of  the  sj^ecies  to 
Avhich  we  belong.  We  have  thus  surveyed  the  missionary  field,  that  we 
may  know  how  great  is  the  undertaking  to  which  we  stand  committed. 

We  have  also  made  an  estimate  of  the  miseries  of  this  world.  We 
have  seen  how,  in  many  places,  the  human  mind,  shackled  by  ignorance 
and  enfeebled  by  vice,  has  dwindled  almost  to  the  standard  of  a  brute. 
Our  indignation  has  kindled  at  hearing  of  men,  immortal  as  ourselves, 
bowing  down  and  worshiping  a  wandering  beggar,  or  paying  adoration 
to  reptiles  and  to  stones.  Not  only  is  intellect  everywhere,  under  the 
dominion  of  idolatry,  prostrated  ;  beyond  the  boundaries  of  Christendom, 
on  eveiy  side,  the  dark  places  of  the  earth  are  filled  with  the  habitations 
of  cruelty.  We  have  mourned  over  the  savage  ferocity  of  the  Indians 
of  our  western  wilderness.  We  have  turned  to  Africa,  and  seen  almost 
the  whole  continent  a  prey  to  lawless  banditti,  or  else  bowing  down  in 


THE     MORAL     DIGNITl     OP     MISSIONS.  461 

the  most  reA'olting  idolatry.  We  have  descended  along  her  coast,  and 
beheld  villages  burned  or  depopulated,  fields  laid  waste,  and  her  people, 
Avho  have  escaped  destruction,  naked  and  famishing,  flee  to  their  forests 
at  the  sight  of  a  stranger.  We  have  tunned  to  Asia,  and  beheld  how 
the  demon  of  her  idolatry  has  worse  than  debased,  has  brutalized  the 
mind  of  man.  Everywhere  his  despotism  has  been  grievous  ;  here,  with 
merciless  tyranny,  he  has  exulted  in  the  misery  of  his  victims.  He  has 
rent  from  the  human  heart  all  that  was  endearing  in  the  charities  of  lite. 
He  has  taught  the  mother  to  tear  away  the  infant  as  it  smiled  in  her 
bosom,  and  cast  it,  the  shrieking  prey,  to  contending  alligators.  He  has 
taught  the  son  to  light  the  funeral  pile,  and  to  witness,  unmoved,  the 
dying  agonies  of  his  widowed,  murdered  mother ! 

We  have  looked  upon  all  this ;  and  our  object  is,  to  purify  the  whok 
earth  from  these  abominations.  Our  object  will  not  have  been  accom- 
plished till  the  tomahawk  shall  be  buried  forever,  and  the  tree  of  peace 
spread  its  broad  branches  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  ;  until  a  thou- 
sand smiling  villages  shall  be  reflected  from  the  waves  of  the  Missouri, 
and  the  distant  valleys  of  the  West  echo  with  the  song  of  the  reaper ; 
till  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  shall  have  been  glad  for  us,  and 
the  desert  has  rejoiced  and  blossomed  as  the  rose.  Our  labors  are  not  to 
cease  until  Africa  shall  have  been  enlightened  and  redeemed,  and  Etlu- 
opia,  from  the  Mediterranean  to  the  Cape,  shall  have  sti-etched  forth  her 
hand  unto  God. 

How  changed  will  then  be  the  face  of  Asia  !  Brahmins,  and  sood.ers, 
and  castes^  and  shasters,  will  have  passed  away,  like  the  mist  which  rolls 
\ip  the  mountain's  side  before  the  rising  glories  of  a  summer's  morning  ; 
while  the  land  on  Avhich  it  rested,  shining  forth  in  all  its  loveliness,  shall, 
from  its  numberless  habitations,  send  forth  the  high  praises  of  God  and 
the  Lamb.  The  Hindoo  mother  will  gaze  upon  her  infant  with  the  same 
tenderness  which  throbs  in  the  breast  of  any  Christian  mother;  and  the 
Hindoo  son  will  pour  into  the  wounded  bosom  of  his  widowed  parent 
the  oil  of  peace  and  consolation. 

In  a  Avord,  point  us  to  the  loveliest  village  that  smiles  upon  a  Scottish 
or  New  England  landscape,  and  compare  it  with  the  filthiness  and  bru- 
tality of  a  Cafl"rarian  kraal,  and  we  tell  you  that  our  object  is  to  render 
that  Caff"rarian  kraal  as  happy  and  as  gladsome  as  that  Scottish  oi-  New 
England  village.  Point  us  to  the  spot  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  where 
liberty  is  best  understood  and  most  perfectly  enjoyed,  where  intellect 
shoots  forth  in  its  richest  luxuriance,  and  where  all  the  kindlier  feelings 
of  the  heart  are  constantly  seen  in  their  most  graceful  exercise  ;  point  us 
to  the  loveliest  and  happiest  neighborhood  in  the  world  on  which  we 
dwell;  and  we  tell  you  that  our  object  is  to  render  this  whole  earth, 
with  all  its  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  tongues,  and  people,  as  hap])y,  nay, 
happier  than  that  neighborhood. 

We  have  considen^d  these  beings  as  immortal,  and  candidates  for  an 


4G2  FRANCIS    WAY  LAND. 

eternity  of  happiness  or  misery.  And  we  can  not  avoid  the  belief  that 
they  arc  exposed  to  eternal  misery.  Here,  you  will  observe,  the  ques- 
tion with  us  is  not,  whether  a  heathen,  unlearned  in  .the  gospel,  can  be 
saved.  We  are  willing  to  admit  that  he  may.  But  if  he  be  saved,  he 
must  possess  holiness  of  heart;  for  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the 
Lord.  And  where  shall  we  find  holy  heathen  ?  Where  is  there  the 
vestige  of  purity  of  heart  among  un evangelized  nations  ?  It  is  in  vain  to 
talk  about  the  innocence  of  these  children  of  nature.  It  is  in  vain  to  tell 
us  of  their  graceful  mythology.  Their  gods  are  such  as  lust  makes  wel- 
come. Of  their  very  religious  services  it  is  a  shame  to  speak.  To  settle 
the  question  concerning  their  future  destiny,  it  would  only  seem  neces- 
sary to  ask,  "  What  would  be  the  character  of  that  future  state,  in  which 
those  prhiciples  of  heart,  which  the  whole  history  of  the  heathen 
world  develops,  were  suffered  to  operate  in  their  unrestrained  ma- 
lignity ?" 

No !  solemn  as  is  the  thought,  we  do  believe  that,  dying  in  their 
present  state,  they  will  be  exposed  to  all  that  is  awful  in  the  w^rath  of 
Almighty  God.  And  we  do  believe  that  God  so  loved  the  world,  that 
he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  on  him  should 
not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life.  Our  object  is  to  convey  to  those 
^vho  are  perishing,  the  news  of  this  salvation.  It  is  to  furnish  every 
tiimily  on  the  face  of  the  whole  earth  with  the  word  of  God,  written  in 
its  own  language  ;  and  to  send  to  every  neighborhood  a  preacher  of  the 
cross  of  Christ.  Our  object  will  not  be  accomplished  until  every  idcl 
temple  shall  have  been  utterly  abolished,  and  a  temple  to  Jehovah 
erected  in  its  room  ;  until  this  earth,  instead  of  being  a  theater  on  which 
immortal  beings  are  preparing  by  crime  for  eternal  condemnation,  shall 
become  one  universal  temple,  in  which  the  children  of  men  ai-e  learning 
the  anthems  of  the  blessed  above,  and  becoming  meet  to  join  the  gen- 
eral assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born,  whose  names  are  written  in 
heaven.     Our  design  will  not  be  completed  until 

"  One  song  employs  all  nations,  and  all  cry, 
'Worthy  the  Lamb,  for  he  was  slain  for  us.' 
The  dwellers  in  the  vales,  and  on  the  rocks, 
Shout  to  each  other,  and  the  mountain  tops 
From  distant  mountains  catch  the  flying  joy  ; 
Till,  nation  after  nation  taught  the  strain. 
Earth  rolls  the  rapturous  hosannah  round." 

The  object  of  the  missionary  enterprise  embraces  every  child  of  Adam. 
It  is  vast  as  the  race  to  whom  its  operations  are  of  necessity  limited.  It 
vrould  confer  upon  every  individual  on  earth,  all  that  intellectual  or 
moral  cultivation  can  bestow.  It  would  rescue  a  world  from  the  indig- 
i::ition  and  wrath,  ti'ibulation  and  anguish,  reserved  for  every  son  of  man 
tiiat  doeth  evil,  and  give  it  a  title  to  glory,  honor,  and  immortaUty. 
You  see,  then,  tluit  our  object  is,  not  only  to  affect  every  individual  of  the 


THE     MORAL    DIGNITY     OP    MISSIONS.  4(^3 

species,  but  to  affect  liiui  in  the  momentous  extremes  of  infinite  happiness 
and  infinite  woe.  And  now  we  ask,  what  object  ever  undertaken  by  man 
can  compare  with  this  same  desire  of  evangelizing  the  world  ?  Patriot- 
ism itself  fades  away  before  it,  and  acknowledges  the  supremacy  of  an 
enterprise  which  seizes,  With  so  strong  a  grasp,  upon  both  the  temporal 
and  eternal  destinies  of  the  whole  family  of  man.  But  all  this  is  not  to 
be  accomplished  without  laborious  exertion.     Hence  we  remark, 

II.  The  missionary  uxdertakikg  is  arduous  enou(;h  to  call  ixto 

ACTION  THE  NOBLEST   ENERGIES  OF  JIAN. 

Its  arduousness  is  explained  in  one  word  :  owr  field  is  the  xoorld.  Our 
object  is,  to  effect  an  entire  moral  revolution  in  the  whole  human  race. 
Its  arduousness,  then,  results  of  necessity  from  its  magnitude. 

I  need  not  say,  to  tliose  acquainted  yA\\\  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind,  that  a  large  moral  mass  is  not  easily  and  permanently  affected. 
A  little  leaven  does  not  soon  leaven  the  whole  lump.  To  produce  a 
change  even  of  speculative  opinion  upon  a  single  nation,  is  an  undertak- 
ing not  easily  accomplished.  In  the  case  before  us,  not  a  nation,  but  a 
world  is  to  be  regenerated :  therefore,  the  change  which  we  would 
( iFect  is  far  from  being  merely  speculative.  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he 
is  a  new  creature.  Nothing  short  of  this  ncAV  creation  will  answer  our 
purpose.  We  go  forth,  not  to  persuade  men  to  turn  from  one  idol  to 
ai;o1hor,  but  to  turn  universally  from  idols,  to  serve  the  living  Gcd. 
We  call  upon  those  who  are  earthly,  sensual,  and  devilish,  to  set  their 
affections  on  things  above.  vVe  go  forth,  exhoi-ting  men  to  forsake 
every  cherished  lust,  and  present  themselves  a  living  sacrifice,  holy  and 
acceptable  unto  God.  And  this  mighty  moral  revolution  is  to  be  effected, 
not  in  a  family,  a  ti-ibe,  or  a  nation,  but  in  a  world  Avhich  lieth  in  wick- 
edness. 

We  have  to  operate  upon  a  race  divided  into  different  nations,  speak- 
ing a  thousand  different  languages,  under  every  different  form  of  gov- 
ernment, from  absolnte  inertness  to  unbridled  tyranny,  and  inhabiting 
every  district  of  conntiy,  salubiious  or  deadly,  from  the  equator  to  the 
l)oles.  To  all  these  nations  must  the  gospel  be  sent ;  into  all  these  lan- 
guages must  the  Bible  be  translated ;  to  all  these  climes,  salubrious  or 
deadly,  must  the  missionary  penetrate  ;  and  under  all  these  forms  of 
government,  mild  or  despotic,  must  he  i-)reach  Christ,  and  him  cruci- 
fied. 

Besides,  we  shall  frequently  interfere  with  the  more  sordid  interests 
of  men  ;  and  we  expect  them  to  increase  the  difliculties  of  our  under- 
taking. If  we  can  tin-n  the  heathen  to  God,  many  a  souice  of  unholy 
traffic  will  be  dried  up,  and  n?any  a  convenience  of  unhallowed  gratifica- 
tion taken  away.  And  hence  we  may  expect,  that  the  traflickers  in  hu- 
man flesh,  the  disciples  of  mammon,  and  the  devotees  of  pleastn-e,  will 
be  against  us.     From  the  heathen  themselves  we  have  the  blackest 


4G4  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

darkness  of  ignorance  to  dispel.  We  have  to  assault  systems  venerable 
for  their  antiquity,  and  interwoven  with  every  thing  that  is  proud  in  a 
nation's  history.  Above  all,  we  have  to  oppose  the  depravity  of  the 
human  heart,  grown  still  more  inveterate  by  ages  of  continuance  in  unre- 
strained iniquity.  In  a  word,  we  go  forth  to  urge  upon  a  world  dead  in 
trespasses  and  sins,  a  thorough  renewal  of  heart,  and  a  universal 
reformation  of  practice. 

Brief  as  is  this  view  of  the  difficulties  which  surround  us — and  time 
will  not  allow  us  to  state  them  more  in  detail — you  see  that  our  under- 
taking is,  as  we  said,  arduous  enough  to  task  to  the  uttermost  the 
noblest  energies  of  man. 

This  enterprise  requires  consummate  loisdoin  in^the  missionar}^  who 
goes  abroad,  as  well  as  in  those  who  manage  the  concerns  of  a  society  at 
home.  He  who  goes  forth  unprotected,  to  preach  Christ  to  despotic,  or 
badly-governed  nations,  must  be  wise  as  a  serpent,  and  harmless  as  a 
dove.  With  undeviating  firmness  uj)on  every  thing  essential,  he  must 
combine  the  most  yielding  facility  upon  all  that  is  unimportant.  And 
thus,  while  he  goes  forth  in  the  spirit  and  power  of  Elias,  he  must,  at 
the  same  time,  become  all  things  to  all  men,  that  by  all  means  he  may 
gain  some.  Great  abihties  are  also  required  in  him  who  conducts  the 
mission  at  home.  He  must  awaken,  ani'uate,  and  direct  the  sentiments  of 
a  A'ery  large  portion  of  the  community  in  which  he  resides,  while  at  the 
same  time,  through  a  hundred  diflerent  agents,  he  is  exerting  a  powerful 
influence  upon  half  as  many  nations,  a  thousand  or  ten  thousand  miles 
off.  Indeed,  it  is  hazarding  nothing  to  predict,  that  if  efforts  for  the  ex- 
tension of  the  gospel  continue  to  multiply  wdth  their  present  ratio  of 
increase,  as  great  abilities  mil,  in  a  few  years,  be  required  for  transact- 
ing the  business  of  a  missionary  society,  as  for  conducting  the  affiiirs  of 
a  political  cabinet. 

The  missionary  undertaking  calls  for  perseverance  ;  a  perseverance  of 
that  character,  which,  having  once  formed  its  purpose,  never  wavers- 
from  it  till  death.  And  if  ever  this  attribute  has  been  so  exhibited  as  to 
challenge  the  respect  of  every  man  of  feeling,  it  has  been  in  such  in- 
stances as  are  recorded  in  the  history  of  the  missions  to  Greenland,  and 
to  the  South  Sea  Islands,  where  we  beheld  men,  for  fifteen  or  twenty 
years,  suffer  every  thing  but  martyrdom,  and  then,  seeing  no  fruit  from 
their  labor,  resolve  to  labor  on  till  death,  if  so  be  they  might,  at  last, 
save  one  benighted  Jieathen  from  the  e^n'or  of  his  loays. 

This  undertaking  calls  for  self-denial  of  the  highest  and  holiest  charac 
tor.  He  who  engages  in  it  must,  at  the  very  outset,  dismiss  every  wisls 
to  stipulate  for  any  thing  but  the  mere  favor  of  God.  His  first  act  is 
voluntary  exile  fi-om  all  that  a  refined  education  loves ;  and  every  other 
act  must  be  in  unison  with  this.  The  salvation  of  the  heathen  is  the 
object  for  which  he  sacrifices,  and  is  willing  to  sacrifice,  every  thing  that 
the  heart  clings  to  on  earth.     For  this  object  he  would  live  ;  for  this  he 


THE     MORAL     DIGNITY     OP     MISSIONS.  4G5 

would  die ;  nay,  he  would  live  anywhere,  and  die  anyhow,  if  so  be  he 
might  rescue  one  soul  from  everlasting  Avoe. 

Hence,  you  see  that  this  undertaking  requires  courage.  It  is  not  the 
courage  which,  wrought  up  by  the  stimulus  of  popular  applause,  can 
rush  now  and  then  upon  the  cannon's  mouth ;  it  is  the  courage  which, 
alone  and  unapplauded,  M'ill,  year  after  year,  look  death  every  moment 
in  the  face,  and  never  shrink  from  its  purpose.  It  is  a  principle  which 
A\ill  "  make  a  man  intrepidly  dare  every  thing  which  can  attack  or  oppose 
him  within  the  Avhole  sphere  of  mortality,  retain  his  purpose  unshaken 
amid  the  ruins  of  the  world,  and  press  toward  his  object  while  death  is 
Lmpending  over  him."  Such  was  the  spirit  which  spake  by  the  mouth 
of  an  apostle,  when  he  said,  "  And  now  I  go  bound  in  the  Spirit  unto 
Jerusalem,  not  knowing  the  things  which  shall  befall  me  there  ;  save 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  witnesseth  in  every  city,  sajdng  that  bonds  and 
affliction  abide  me ;  yet  none  of  these  things  move  me,  neither  count  I 
my  life  dear  unto  myself,  so  that  I  may  finish  my  course  with  joy,  and 
the  ministry  which  I  have  received  of  the  Lord  Jesus." 

But,  above  all,  the  missionary  undertaking  requires /caVA,  in  its  holiest 
and  sublimest  exercise.  And  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  we  speak  at 
random,  when  we  mention  the  sublimity  of  faith.  "  Whatever,"  says  the 
British  moralist,  "  withdraws  us  from  the  power  of  the  senses — whatever 
makes  the  past,  the  distant,  or  the  future  predominate  over  the  present 
— advances  us  in  the  dignity  of  thinking  beings."  And  when  we  speak 
of  faith,  we  refer  to  a  principle  which  gives  substance  to  things  hoped 
for,  and  evidence  to  things  not  seen ;  which,  bending  her  keen  glance  on 
the  eternal  weight  of  glory,  makes  it  a  constant  motive  to  holy  enter- 
prise ;  which,  fixing  her  eagle  eye  upon  the  infinite  of  future,  makes  it 
bear  right  well  upon  the  i^urj^oses  of  to-day  ;  a  principle  which  enables 
a  poor  feeble  tenant  of  the  dust  to  take  stronghold  upon  the  perfections 
of  Jehovah ;  and,  fastening  his  hopes  to  the  very  throne  of  the  eternal, 
"bid  earth  roll,  nor  feel  its  idle  whirl."  This  prmciple  is  the  unfailing 
support  of  the  missionary,  through  the  long  years  of  his  toilsome  pil- 
grimage ;  and,  when  he  is  compared  with  the  heroes  of  this  world,  it  is 
]jeculiar  to  him.  By  as  much,  then,  as  the  Christian  enterprise  calls  into 
being  this  one  principle,  the  noblest  that  can  attach  to  the  character  of 
a  creature,  by  so  much  does  its  execution  surpass  in  sublimity  every 
other. 

III.  Let  us  consider  the  meaxs  by  which  this  moral  revolution  is 

TO  BE  EFEECTED. 

It  is,  in  a  word,  by  the  preaching  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified. 
It  is  by  going  forth  and  telling  the  lost  children  of  men,  that  God  so 
loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son  to  die  for  them  , 
and  by  all  the  eloquence  of  such  an  appeal,  to  entreat  them,  for  Christ's 
sake,  to  be  reconciled  unto  Gofl.    This  is  the  lever  by  which j  we  believe, 

3J 


166  •    FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

the  moral  universe  is  to  be  raised ;  this  is  the  instrument  by  which  a 
sinful  world  is  to  be  regenerated. 

And  consider  the  commanding  simplicity  of  this  means,  devised  by 
Omniscience  to  eifect  a  purpose  so  glorious.  This  world  is  to  be  restored 
to  more  than  it  lost  by  the  fall,  by  the  simple  annunciation  of  the  love 
of  God  in  Christ  Jesus.  Here  we  behold  means  apparently  the  weakest, 
employed  to  effect  the  most  magnificent  of  purposes.  And  how  plainly 
does  this  bespeak  the  agency  of  the  omnipotent  God !  The  meang 
which  effect  his  greatest  purposes  in  the  kingdom  of  nature,  are  simple 
and  imostentatious ;  while  those  which  man  employs  are  complicated 
and  tumultuous.  How  many  intellects  are  tasked,  how  many  hands  are 
wearied,  how  many  arts  exhausted,  in  preparing  for  the  event  of  a  single 
battle  ;  and  how  great  is  the  tumult  of  the  moment  of  decision.  In  all 
this,  man  only  imitates  the  inferior  agents  of  nature.  The  autumnal 
tempest,  whose  S2:)herc  of  action  is  limited  to  a  little  spot  upon  our  little 
Avorld,  comes  forth  attended  by  the  roar  of  thimder  and  the  flash  of 
lightning ;  while  the  attraction  of  gravitation,  that  stupendous  force 
which  binds  together  the  mighty  masses  of  the  material  universe,  acts 
silently.  In  the  sublimest  of  natural  transactions,  the  greatest  result  is 
ascribed  to  the  simplest,  the  most  unique  of  causes.  He  spake,  and  it 
was  done ;  he  commanded,  and  it  stood  fast. 

Contemplate  the  benevolence  of  these  means.  In  praclice,  the  precepts 
of  the  gospel  may  be  summed  up  in  the  single  command,  "  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  Avith  all  thy  heart,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself" 
We  expect  to  teach  one  man  obedience  to  this  command,  and  that  he 
will  feel  obliged  to  teach  his  neighbor,  who  will  feel  obliged  to  teach 
others,  who  are  again  to  become  teachers,  until  the  whole  world  shall 
be  peopled  with  one  family  of  brethren.  Animosity  is  to  be  done  away, 
l)y  inculcating  universally  the  obligation  of  love.  In  this  manner  we  ex- 
pect to  teach  rulers  justice,  and  subjects  submission  ;  to  open  the  heart  of 
.  the  miser,  and  unloose  the  grasp  of  the  oppressor.  It  is  thus  we  expect 
the  time  to  be  hastened  onward,  when  men  shall  beat  their  swords  into 
plowshares,  and  their  spears  into  pruning-hooks ;  when  nation  shall  no 
more  lift  up  sword  against  nation,  neither  shall  they  learn  war  any  more. 

With  this  process,  compare  the  means  by  which  men,  on  the  jDrinci- 
ples  of  this  world,  effdct  a  melioration  in  the  condition  of  their  species. 
Their  almost  universal  agent  is  threatened  or  inflicted  misery.  And, 
from  the  natui-e  of  the  case,  it  can  not  be  otherwise.  Without  altering 
the  disposition  of  the  heart,  they  only  attempt  to  control  its  exercise. 
And  they  must  control  it,  by  showing  their  power  to  make  the  indul-' 
gence  of  that  disposition  the  source  of  more  misery  than  happiness. 
Hence,  when  men  confer  a  benefit  upon  a  portion  of  their  brethren,  it  is 
generally  preceded  by  a  protracted  struggle  to  decide  which  can  inflict 
most,  or  which  can  suffer  longest.  Hence,  the  arm  of  the  patriot  is  gen- 
erally, and  o'f  nee  "^ssity,  bathed  in  blood.     Hence,  with  the  shouts  of 


THE     MORAL    DIGNITY     OF     MISSIONS.  4G7 

victory  from  the  nation  lie  has  deliverccl,  there  arises  also  the  sigh  of  the 
widow,  and  the  weeping  of  the  orphan,  Man  produces  good  by  the 
apprehension,  or  the  infliction  of  evil.  The  gos])el  produces  good  by 
tlie  universal  diffusion  of  the  principles  of  benevolence.  In  the  former 
case,  one  party  must  generally  suffer ;  in  the  latter,  all  parties  are  cer- 
tainly more  happy.  The  one,  like  the  mountain  torrent,  may  fertilize, 
now  and  then,  a  valley  beneath,  but  not  until  it  has  wildly  swept  away 
the  forest  above,  and  disfigm-ed  the  lovely  landscape  with  many  an  un- 
seemly scar.     Not  so  the  other  ; 

"  It  droppcth  as  the  gentle  rain  from  heaven. 
Upon  the  place  beneath ;  it  is  twice  blessed, 
It  blesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes." 

Consider  the  efficacy  of  these  means.  The  reasons  which  teach  us  to 
rely  upon  them  with  confidence,  may  be  thus  briefly  stated. 

1.  We  see  that  all  which  is  really  terrific  in  the  misery  of  man,  results 
from  the  disease  of  his  moral  nature.  If  this  can  be  healed,  man  may 
be  restored  to  happiness.  Now,  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the  remedy 
devised  by  Omniscience,  specifically  for  this  purpose,  and  therefore  we 
do  certainly  know  that  it  will  inevitably  succeed. 

2.  It  is  easy  to  be  see  i,  that  the  universal  obedience  to  the  command, 
*'Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  vvith  all  thy  heart,  and  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself,"  would  make  this  world  a  heaven.  But  nothing  other  than 
the  gospel  of  Christ  can  persuade  men  to  this  obedience.  Reason  can  not 
do  it ;  philanthropy  can  not  do  it ;  civilization  can  not  do  it.  The  cross  of 
Christ  alone  has  power  to  bend  the  stubborn  will  to  obedience,  and  melt  the 
frozen  heart  to  love.  For,  said  one  who  had  experienced  its  efficacy,  the 
love  of  Christ  constraineth  us  ;  because  we  thus  judge,  that  if  one  died  for 
all,  then  all  were  dead  ;  and  that  he  died  for  all,  that  they  which  live  should 
not  live  to  thems.elves,  but  unto  him  who  died  for  them,  and  rose  again, 

3.  The  preaching  of  the  cross  of  Christ  is  a  remedy  for  the  miseries 
of  the  fall,  which  has  been  tested  by  the  experience  of  eighteen  hundred 
years  ;  and  has  never,  in  a  single  instance,  failed.  Its  efficacy  has  been 
[)roved  by  human  beings  of  all  ages,  from  the  lisjiing  infant  to  the  sinner 
an  hundred  years  old.  All  climates  have  witnessed  its  power.  From 
the  ice-bound  cliffs  of  Greenland  to  the  baaks  of  the  volui)tuous  Ganges, 
the  simple  story  of  Christ  crucified  has  turned  men  from  darkness  to 
light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God.  Its  effect  has  been  the 
same  with  men  of  the  most  dissimilar  conditions,  from  the  abandoned 
inhabitant  of  Newgate  to  the  dweller  in  the  palaces  of  kings.  It  has 
been  equally  sovereign  amid  the  scattered  inhabitants  of  the  forest, 
and  the  crowded  population  of  the  densest  metropolis.  Everywhere, 
and  at  all  times,  it  has  been  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every- 
one that  believeth. 

4.  And  lastly,  we  know  from  the  word  of  the  living  God,  that  it  will 
be  successful,  until  this  whole  world  has  been  redeemed  from  the  effects 


4G8  FRANCIS    WAYLAND 

of  man's  first  disobedience.  As  truly  as  I  live,  saith  Jehovah,  all  the 
earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  Ask  of  me,  saith  he  to 
his  Son,  and  I  will  give  thee  the  heathen  for  thine  inheritance,  and  the 
uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  thy  jjossession.  In  the  Kevelation  which 
he  gave  to  his  servant  John,  of  things  which  should  shortly  come  to 
pass :  I  heard,  said  tlie  apostle,  great  voices  in  heaven,  saying.  The 
kingdoms  of  this  world  are  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and  of 
his  Christ;  and  he  shall  reign  forever  and  ever.  Here,  then,  is  the 
ground  of  our  unwavering  confidence.  Heaven  and  earth  shall  pass 
away,  but  one  jot  or  one  tittle  shall  in  no  wise  -pass  from  the  word  of 
God,  until  all  be  fulfilled.  Such,  then,  are  the  means  on  which  we  rely 
for  the  accomplishment  of  our  object,  and  such  the  grounds  upon  Avhich 
we  rest  our  confidence  of  success. 

And  now,  my  hearers,  deliberately  consider  the  nature  of  the  mission- 
ary enterprise.  Reflect  upon  the  dignity  of  its  object ;  the  high  moral 
and  intellectual  powers  which  are  to  be  called  forth  in  its  execution  ;  the 
simplicity,  benevolence,  and  eflScacy  of  the  means  by  which  all  this  is  to 
be  achieved ;  and  we  ask  you,  Does  not  every  other  enterprise  to  which, 
man  ever  put  foith  his  sti'ength,  dwindle  into  insignificance,  before  that 
of  preaching  Christ  crucified  to  a  lost  and  perishing  world  ? 

Engaged  in  such  an  object,  and  supported  by  such  assurances,  you 
may  readily  suppose  we  can  very  well  bear  the  contempt  of  those  who 
Avould  point  at  us  the  finger  of  scorn.  It  is  written.  In  the  last  days 
there  shall  be  scoffers.  "We  regret  that  it  should  be  so.  We  regret  that 
men  should  oppose  an  enterprise,  of  which  the  chief  object  is  to  turn 
sinners  unto  holiness.  We  pity  them,  and  we  will  pray  for  them.  For 
we  consider  their  situation  far  other  than  enviable.  We  recollect  that 
it  was  once  said  by  our  Lord,  to  the  first  band  which  he  commissioned, 
"  He  that  despiseth  you,  despiseth  me ;  and  he  that  despiseth  me,  de- 
spiseth  him  that  sent  me."  So  that  this  very  contempt  may  at  last  involve 
them  in  a  controversy  infinitely  more  serious  than  they  at  jDresent  antici- 
pate. The  reviler  of  missions,  and  the  missionary  of  the  cross,  must  both 
stand  before  the  judgment-seat  of  him  who  said,  "  Go  ye  into  all  the 
world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  It  is  affecting  to  think, 
that,  while  the  one,  surrounded  by  the  nation  who,  through  his  instru- 
mentality, have  been  rescued  from  everlasting  death,  shall  receive  the 
plaudit,  Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant,  the  other  may  be  num- 
bered with  those  despisers  who  wonder  and  perish.  O  that  they  might 
know,  even  in  this  their  day,  the  things  which  belong  to  their  peace, 
before  they  are  hidden  from  their  eyes  ! 

You  can  also  easily  perceive  how  it  is  that  we  are  not  soon  disheart- 
ened by  those  who  tell  us  of  the  difficulties,  nay,  the  hopelessness  of  our 
undertaking.  They  may  point  us  to  countries  once  the  seat  of  tlie 
chur(;h,  now  overspread  with  Mohammedan  delusion  ;  or,  bidding  us 
look  at  nations  who  once  believed  as  we  do,  now  contending  for  what 


TEE    MORAL    DIGXITY     it    MISSIONS.  4G9 

we  consider  fatal  error,  they  may  assure  us  that  our  cause  is  cleelining. 
To  all  this  we  have  two  answers.  First,  the  assumption  that  our  cause 
is  declining  is  utterly  gratuitous.  We  tlunk  it  not  difficult  to  prove, 
tliat  tlie  distinctive  princii)lcs  we  so  much  venerate,  never  swayed  so 
powerful  an  influence  over  the  destinies  of  the  human  race  as  at  this 
very  moment.  Point  us  to  those  nations  of  the  earth  to  whom  moral  and 
mtellectual  cultivation,  inexhaustible  resources,  progress  in  arts,  and 
sagacity  in  council,  have  assigned  the  highest  rank  in  pohtical  import- 
ance, and  you  i)oint  us  to  nations  whose  religious  opinions  are  most  closely 
allied  tc  those  we  cherish.  Besides,  when  was  there  a  }>eriod,  since  the 
days  of  the  apostles,  in  which  so  many  converts  have  been  made  to  these 
principles,  as  have  been  made,  both  from  Christian  and  Pagan  nations, 
within  the  last  thirty  years  ?  Never  did  the  peoj^le  of  the  saints  of  the 
Most  High  look  so  much  like  going  foith  in  serious  earnest,  to  take  pos- 
session of  the  kingdom  and  dominion,  and  the  greatness  of  the  kingdom 
under  the  whole  heaven,  as  at  this  very  day.  We  see,  then,  nothing  in 
the  signs  of  the  times  which  forebodes  a  failure,  but  every  thing  which 
promises  that  our  undertaking  will  prosper.  But,  secondly,  suppose  the 
cause  did  seem  declining,  we  should  see  no  reason  to  relax  our  exertions, 
for  Jesus  Christ  has  sal^,  "  Preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature."  Ap- 
pearances, whether  prosperous  or  adverse,  alter  not  the  obligation  to 
obfy  a  positive  command  of  Almighty  God. 

Again,  suppose  all  that  this  affirmed  were  ti-ue.  If  it  must  be,  let  it 
be.  Let  the  dark  cloud  of  infidelity  overspread  Europe,  cross  the  ocean, 
and  cover  our  own  beloved  land.  Let  nation  after  nation  swerve  from 
the  faith.  Let  iniquity  abound,  and  the  love  of  many  wax  cold,  even 
imtil  there  is,  on  the  face  of  this  earth,  but  one  pure  church  of  our  Lord 
and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  All  we  ask  is,  that  we  may  be  members  of 
that  one  church.  God  grant  that  we  may  throw  ourselves  into  this 
Thermopylae  of  the  moral  universe. 

But,  even  then,  we  should  have  no  fear  that  the  church  of  God  would 
be  exterminated.  We  would  call  to  remembrance  the  years  of  the  right 
hand  of  the  INIost  High.  We  would  recollect  there  was  once  a  time, 
when  the  whole  chui-ch  of  Christ  not  only  could  be,  but  actually  was, 
gathered  with  one  accord  in  one  place.  It  was  then  that  the  place  Avas 
shaken  as  with  a  rushing  mighty  wind,  and  they  were  all  filled  with  the 
Holy  Ghost.  That  same  day,  three  thousand  were  added  to  the  Lord. 
Soon,  we  hear,  they  have  filled  Jerusalem  with  their  doctrine.  The 
church  has  commenced  her  march.  Samaria  has,  with  one  accord, 
believed  the  gospel.  Antioch  has  become  obedient  to  the  faith.  The 
name  of  Christ  has  been  proclaimed  throughout  Asia  Minor.  The  tem- 
ples of  the  gods,  as  though  smitten  by  an  invisible  hand,  are  deserted. 
The  citizens  of  Ephesus  cry  out  in  despair,  "  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephe- 
sians !"  Licentious  Corinth  is  purified  by  the  preaching  of  Christ 
crucified.     Persecution  puts  forth  her  arm  to  arrest  the  spreading  "  su- 


470  FRANCIS    WAYLAND. 

perstition."  But  the  progress  of  the  faith  can  not  be  stayed.  The 
church  of  God  advances  unhuit,  amid  racks  and  dungeons,  persecutions 
and  death  ;  yea,  "  smiles  at  the  drawn  dagger,  and  defies  its  point."  She 
has  entered  Italy,  and  appears  before  the  walls  of  the  Eternal  City. 
Idolatry  falls  prostrate  at  her  approach.  Her  ensign  floats  in  triumph 
over  the  capitol.  She  has  placed  upon  her  brow  the  diadem  of  the 
Coesars ! 

After  having  witnessed  such  successes,  and  under  such  circumstances, 
we  are  not  to  be  moved  by  discouragements.  To  all  of  them  wc 
answer.  Our  field  is  the  world.  The  more  arduous  the  unde"takiug, 
the  greater  will  be  the  glory.  And  that  glory  will  be  ours;  for  God 
Almighty  is  with  us. 

This  enterprise  of  mercy  the  Son  of  God  came  down  from  heaven  to 
commence,  and  in  commenchig  it,  he  laid  down  his  life.  To  us  has  he 
granted  the  high  privilege  of  caiTying  it  forward.  The  legacy  which  he 
left  us,  as  he  was  ascending  to  his  Father  and  our  Father,  and  to  his  God 
and  to  our  God,  was,  "  Go  ye  hito  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel 
to  every  creature ;  and,  lo,  I  am  with  you  always  even  unto  the  end  of 
the  woi-ld."  Yv^ith  such  an  object  before  us,  under  such  a  Leadei-,  and 
supported  by  such  promises,  other  motives  to  exertion  are  unnecessary. 
Each  one  of  you  will  anxiously  inquire,  how  he  may  become  a  co-worker 
with  the  Son  of  God,  in  the  glorious  design  of  rescuing  the  world  from 
the  miseries  of  the  fall. 

Blessed  be  God,  this  is  a  work  in  which  every  one  of  us  is  permitted 
to  do  something.  None  so  poor,  none  so  weak,  none  so  insignificant, 
but  a  place  of  action  is  assigned  him  ;  and  the  cause  expects  every  man 
to  do  his  duty. 

1.  You  may  assist  in  it  by  your  prayers.  After  all  that  we  have  said 
about  means,  we  know  that  every  thing  will  be  in  vain  without  the  influ- 
ences of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Paul  may  plant,  and  ApoUos  water,  it  is  God 
who  giveth  the  increase.  And  these  influences  are  jDromised,  and  prom- 
ised alone,  in  answer  to  prayer.  Ye,  then,  who  love  the  Lord,  keep  not 
sUence,  and  give  him  no  rest,  until  he  establish  and  make  Jerusalem  a 
praise  in  the  whole  earth, 

2.  You  may  assist  by  your  personal  exertions.  This  cause  requires  a 
vigorous,  persevering,  universal,  and  systematic  eflbrt.  It  requires  that 
a  spirit  should  pervade  every  one  of  us,  which  shall  prompt  him  to  ask 
himself  every  morning,  "  What  can  I  do  for  Christ  to-day  ?"  and  which 
should  make  him  feel  humbled  and  ashamed,  if  at  evening  he  Avere 
obhged  to  confess  he  had  done  nothing.  Each  one  of  us  is^as  much 
obligated  as  the  missionaries  themselves,  to  do  aU  in  his  power  to  advance 
the  common  cause  of  Christianity.  We,  equally  with  them,  have  em- 
braced that  gospel,  of  which  the  fundament;|l  principle  is,  None  of  us 
Uveth  to  himself.  And  not  only  is  every  one  bound  to  exert  himself  to 
the  uttermost,  the  same  obligation  rests  upon  us  so  to  direct  our  exer 


THE     MORAL     DIGNITY     OP     MISSIONS.  471 

tions,  that  each  of  them  may  jn-oduce  the  greatest  effect.  Each  one  of 
us  may  influence  others  to  embark  m  the  undertaking.  Each  one  whoii\ 
we  have  influenced  may  be  induced  to  enUst  that  circle  of  which  he  is 
the  center,  until  a  self-extending  system  of  intense  aud  reverberated 
action  shall  embody  into  one  invincible  plialanx  "  the  sacramental  host 
of  God's  elect."  Awake,  then,  brethren,  from  your  slumbers.  Seek  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness.  And  recollect,  that  what 
you  would  do  must  be  done  quickly.  The  day  is  far  spent ;  the  night  is 
at  hand.  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might ; 
for  there  is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  wisdom  in  the  grave,  whither  thou 
goest. 

•3.  You  may  assist  by  your  pecimiwy  contrihuiioJis.  And  here,  I  trust, 
it  is  unnecessary  to  say,  that  in  such  a  cause  we  consider  it  a  j^rivilege  to 
give.  How,  so  worthily  can  you  appropriate  a  portion  of  that  substance 
which  Providence  has  given  you,  as  in  sending  to  your  fellow-men,  who 
sit  in  the  region  and  shadow  of  death,  a  knowledge  of  the  God  who 
made  them,  and  of  Jesus  Christ  Avhom  he  hath  sent?  We  pray  you,  so 
use  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness,  that  when  ye  fail,  they  may  receive 
you  into  everlasting  habitations.  But  I  doubt  not  you  already  burn 
with  desire  to  testify  your  love  to  the  crucified  Redeemer.  Enthroned 
in  the  high  and  hoi}'  place,  he  looks  down  continually  upon  the  heart  of 
every  individual,  and  Avill  accept  of  your  offering,  though  it  be  but  the 
widow's  mite,  if  it  be  given  with  the  widow's  feeling.  In  the  last  day 
of  solemn  account,  he  will  acknowledge  it  before  an  assembled  universe, 
sapng,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these  my  breth- 
ren, ye  did  it  unto  me." 

May  God,  of  his  grace,  enable  us  so  to  act,  so  that,  on  that  day,  we 
may  meet  with  joy  the  record  of  our  life;  and  to  his  name  shall  be  the 
glory  in  Christ.     Amen. 


DISCOURSE    XIXIV, 

GEORGE     F.     PIERCE,,     D.D. 

Bisnop  Pierce,  of  tbe  Methodist  Episcopal  church  South,  is  a  native  of  Georgia, 
and  now  some  forty-five  to  forty-eight  years  of  age.  He  is  a  graduate  of  Franklin 
College,  and  after  some  years'  service  in  the  ministry,  was  appointed  Presi:lent 
of  Emory  College,  Georgia — a  position  which  he  filled  with  distinguished  honor  to 
himself,  and  the  institution  over  which  he  presided. 

Since  his  election  as  one  of  the  bishops  of  the  Methodist  church,  he  has  shown 
rare  abilities  for  the  discharge  of  the  responsible  duties  of  that  office.  He  is  highly 
popular  in  all  directions,  and  by  his  sagacity  and  prudence,  his  sound  judgment, 
comprehensive  views,  keen  discrimination,  kindness  of  spirit,  and  his  zeal  and 
enthusiasm  in  all  the  interests  of  the  church,  he  exerts  a  widely-important  influence. 

Bishop  Pierce  is  of  about  medium  height  and  proportions,  eyes  keen  and  dark, 
black  hair,  full  and  frank  countenance,  and  dignified  and  gentlemanly  bearings.  He 
has  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  most  brilliant  pulpit  orators  in  the  countr}' ; 
possessing  all  the  various  qualities  of  an  effective  public  speaker,  in  a  remarkable 
degree.  Never  speaking  except  when  he  has  something  to  say,  and  clothing 
his  utterances,  as  by  a  kind  of  instinct,  in  words  "  fitly  spoken,"  and  pronouncing 
them  with  a  voice,  full,  deep,  round,  and  musical,  perfectly  controlled  and  modu- 
lated, he  takes  up  into  the  arms  of  his  power,  the  largest  and  most  miscellaneous 
audience,  and  bears  them  whithersoever  he  listeth.  As  an  example  of  the  finest 
style  of  Southern  pulpit  eloquence,  he  certainly  has  few,  if  any,  superiors. 

One  peculiarity  of  Bishop  Pierce's  eloquence,  is  his  taste  and  nice  discrimination 
in  the  use  of  metaphors.  He  seems  to  tliinh,  even,  with  a  kind  of  classic  beauty  ; 
and  his  words  are  poured  out  like  apples  of  gold.  And  this  spontaneous  exuber- 
ance of  fancy,  tinges  and  colors  all  his  productions.  It  has  the  quality  of  inex- 
haustible variety — always  ready,  always  new,  and  always  natural.  To  use  his  own 
description  of  another  man,  "  There  is  a  delightful  propriety,  a  minute  beauty,  a 
neat,  chaste,  graceful  arrangement  of  every  part.  His  flowers  are  not  artificial : 
they  all  have  roots,  and  they  are  redolent  with  the  morning  dew — fresh  and  fra- 
grant as  a  vernal  garden  in  the  early  day." 

As  the  sermons  of  Bishop  Pierce  arc  almost  always,  if  not  universally,  unAvritten, 
few,  if  any,  have  been  laid  before  the  public.  On  this  account,  we  have  the  greater 
pleasure  in  laying  before  the  readers  of  this  work  the  following  admirable  discourse, 
which  he  has  kindly  furnished  for  our  use.  It  was  preached  in  McKendree  church, 
Njxshville,  Tennessee,  April  15,  1855,  in  memory  of  the  late  William  Capers,  D.D., 
one  of  the  bishops  cf  the  Metholist  Episcopal  church.  South. 


DEYOTEDXESS    TO     CnRIST.  473 


DEYOTEDXESS  TO  CHRIST. 

"For  none  of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  liimself  For  whether  vre  live 
we  live  unto  the  Lord;  and  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord:  whether  we  live 
therefore,  or  die,  we  aft>3  the  Lord's." — Romans,  xiv.  7,  8. 

The  spirit  of  Cliristianity  is  essentially  a  public  spirit.  It  ignores  all 
seltishiiess.  It  is  benevolence  embodied  and  alive,  full  of  plans  lor  the 
benefit  of  the  Avorld,  and  actively  at  work  to  make  them  elfoctive. 
Catholic,  generous,  expansive,  it  rej^udiates  all  the  boundaries  proscribed 
by  names,  and  sects,  and  parties,  and  "  stretches  its  line  into  the  regiony 
beyond,"  even  to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth.  The  world  is  its 
parish.  Its  wishes  are  commensurate  with  the  moral  wants  of  mankind, 
and  the  will  of  God,  who  gave  his  Son  to  die  for  us  smners  and  our  sal- 
vation, is  the  authority  for  its  labors  and  the  pledge  of  its  triumplis. 

It  is  the  policy  of  every  form  of  uifidelity  and  speculative  unbelief, 
and  of  every  false  religion,  to  depreciate  and  undervalue  the  nature  of 
man.  They  despoil  him  of  his  true  glory  by  their  chilling,  preposterotts 
theories,  even  while  they  affect  to  magnify  him  by  fulsome  eulogy  of  his 
intellect  and  its  capacious  powers.  By  false  notions  of  personal  inde- 
pendence, they  isolate  him  from  his  kind,  and  the  sensibilities,  which 
Heaven  intended  should  flow  out  free  as  the  gushing  spring,  they  con- 
tract and  stagnate,  till  the  heart  grows  rank  and  putrid  Avith  its  own 
corruptions.  But  while  our  holy  religion  exalts  man  as  made  in  the 
ijuage  of  God,  the  head  and  chief  of  the  system  to  which  he  belongs, 
and  thus  invests  the  indlviductl  vnth  dignity  and  value,  vast  and  incal- 
culable, far,  far  beyond  "  worlds  on  worlds  arrayed,"  it  yet  links  him 
in  closest  fellowship  with  the  kindred  of  his  lace.  For  him  the  ground 
yields  its  increase,  the  sun  shines,  the  stars  beam  in  beauty,  the  winds 
blow,  the  waters  run.  Earth,  air,  and  ocean  are  all  astir  with  agencies 
commissioned  to  do  him  good  ;  but  not  for  him  alone.  No  matter  what 
his  rank,  power,  influence,  he  but  shares  the  bounties  which  have  been 
provided,  in  the  munificence  of  Heaven,  as  the  common  inheritance  of 
all  his  fellows.  No  matter  what  his  personal  rights  and  interest,  he  is 
but  a  part  of  a  great  whole.  He  belongs  to  a  system.  No  choice  of  his 
own,  no  social  caste,  no  civil  distinctions,  can  detach  him  from  it. 
Linked  with  the  world  around  him  by  a  law  of  his  nature  and  the  de- 
cree of  his  Maker,  every  plan  of  isolation  is  abortive;  and  the  very  effort 
at  separation  and  oxclusiveness  brands  him  as  a  miser,  a  misanthrope,  a 
Bclfisli,  heartless  wretch,  without  natural  affection  or  any  redeeming 
principle.  A  brute  in  human  form — a  demon,  Avith  the  lineaments  of 
man,  lie  is  under  the  outlawry  of  a  world  itself,  alas !  but  too  ignorant 
of  the  laAv  of  love  and  the  noble  aims  and  ends  of  this  mortal  life. 

Bound  together,  as  we  are,  by  the  ties  of  a  common  nature  and  of 


474  GEORGE     F.    PIERCE. 

mutual  dependence,  e\ery  man  is  a  fountain  of  influence,  good  or  bad, 
couservative  or  destructive.  Whether  he  will  or  not,  he  is  an  example. 
His  language,  spirit,  actions,  habits,  his  very  manners,  all  tell — forming 
the  taste,  molding  the  character,  and  shaping  the  course  of  others,  to 
the  end  of  time.  No  man  limth  to  himself  .  He  can  not.  Apparently 
he  may,  but  really  he  does  not.  His  plans  and  his  aspirations  may  all 
revolve  around  himself  as  a  common  center,  but  within  and  without 
their  orbits  will  be  concentric  circles,  inclosing  other  agents  aiid  other 
interests.  He  may  rear  walls  around  his  possessions,  call  his  lands  by 
his  own  name,  and  his  inward  thought  may  be,  as  the  world  phrases  it, 
to  take  care  of  himself  and  his  dependents;  but  he  can  neither  limit  the 
effect  of  his  plans  nor  forecast  the  inheritance  of  his  estate.  Another 
enters  even  into  his  labors.  Disruptive  changes  abolish  his  best-concerted 
schemes,  and  scatter  to  the  winds  all  the  securities  by  which  he  sought 
to  fence  and  individualize  his  own  peculiar  interest. 

But  while  all  this  is  true,  and  constitutes  the  basis  of  a  fearful  respon- 
sibility, it  is  not  exactly  the  idea  in  our  text.  In  the  declaration  before 
us,  the  apostle  does  not  affirm  a  principle  as  predicable  of  our  nature 
and  its  social  relations,  nor  merely  state  a  fact  as  resulting  from  an  im- 
mutable law  of  our  being ;  but  he  presents  a  moral  rule,  and  erects  it 
into  a  standard  for  the  adjudication  of  character.  He  defines  the  rights 
of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  and  the  obligations  of  those  who  claim  to  be 
bis  disciples  and  representatives. 

A  dispute  had  arisen  in  the  church  concei'ning  meats  and  days— what 
was  allo\A'able  and  consistent  in  the  one  case,  and  what  was  required  and 
binding  upon  the  other.  It  was  a  question  of  privilege — of  Christian 
liberty.  Assuming  that  the  parties  were  equally  sincere,  the  apostle  did 
not  seek  to  quell  the  agitation  by  a  temporary  expedient,  a  dubiou.s,  un- 
reliable compromise  ;  but  took  occasion  to  declare  a  principle  of  uni- 
versal authority  and  application.  He  lays  down  a  rule  by  which  we  are 
to  judge  others  as  well  as  to  measure  ourselves.  What  one  may  regard 
as  a  ceremony  and  a  superstition,  is  not  to  be  charged  upon  another, 
whose  opinion  is  different,  as  proof  that  his  profession  is  a  mask  or  his 
piety  insincere.  ISTor  is  the  latter  to  denounce  the  former  as  a  time- 
server — a  man-pleaser,  turning  the  grace  of  God  into  licentiousness.  "  He 
that  regardeth  the  day,  regardeth  it  unto  the  Lord  ;  and  he  that  regard- 
eth  not  the  day,  to  the  Lord  he  doth  not  regard  it.  He  that  eateth, 
eateth  to  the  Lord,  for  he  giveth  God  thanks ;  and  he  that  eateth  not, 
to  the  Lord  he  eateth  not,  and  giveth  God  thanks." 

Conceding  the  right  of  private  judgment — frankly  confessing  imper- 
fect knowledge — let  both  judge  charitably.  The  kingdom  of  God  is  not 
meat  and  drink — but  righteousness,  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 
There  may  be,  there  is  unity  in  the  great  prmciples  of  Christian  moral- 
ity, and  yet  a  difference  of  judgment  and  practice  in  little  things.  Wo 
are  not  to  despise  one  another  because  of  this  diversity,  nor,  though 


DEYCTEDXESS     TO     CEIIIST.  475 

fully  persuaded  in  our  own  minds,  harass  a  brother  Tjy  the  vexatious 
obtrusion  of  our  peculiar  notions.  His  liberty  is  not  to  be  bounded  hy 
our  prejudice,  nor  his  conscience  regulated  by  our  superstition.  The 
law  of  love  not  only  requires  good  will,  benevolent  affection  toward  all 
men,  but  stretches  its  authority  over  our  opinions,  our  moral  judgments, 
our  estimate  of  character. '  We  are  not  to  perplex  the  weak  with  doubt- 
ful disputations,  nor  incur  the  risk  of  imbittering  our  o\v7i  feelings  by 
urg-ing  pur  vdtraisms  as  essential  to  salvation.  Life  is  too  short  to  be 
wasted  in  frivolous  disputes,  even  about  matters  of  conscience.  Christi- 
anity is  too  precious  and  noble  and  vast  to  be  scandalized  by  contentions 
in  the  church  about  meats  and  drinks — the  tithing  of  mint  and  anise 
and  cummin.  As  Christians,  we  are  public  men.  We  live  fou  our  race. 
The  Lord  is  our  judge.  Great  principles  are  to  be  avowed — maintained 
—diffused — established.  God  and  our  generation  are  to  be  served — the 
one  to  be  glorified,  and  the  other  to  be  saved.  For  none  of  us  liveth  to 
himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself  Whether  wei  live,  we  live  imto 
the  Lord ;  and  whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord  :  whether  we  live, 
there foi'e,  or  die,  we  are  the  Lord's. 

The  text  is  a  comprehensive  description  of  a  Christian's  life — a  deci- 
sive test  of  character.  It  is  the  language  of  one  who  well  knew  what 
Christianity  is,  and  who  himself  exemplified  its  principles  and  spirit. 

Avoiding  minute  details,  we  proceed  to  fix  the  meaning  of  the  terms, 
liviiig  unto  the  Lovely  and  dying  unto  the  Lord. 

Living  unto  the  Loi-d  may  be  considered  as  implying,  that  we  dis- 
tinctly recognize  the  will  of  God  as  the  rule  of  life. 

If  I  may  so  express  it — as  the  natural  subjects  of  the  Almighty,  Ave 
are  bound  to  serve  him  to  the  full  extent  of  the  powers  he  hath  given 
us.  He  has  an  unquestionable  right  to  our  obedience.  This  results 
from  our  relation  as  creatures.  He  made  us  and  he  preserves  us.  This 
original  obligation,  instead  of  being  relaxed  and  impaired,  is  confirmed 
and  intensified  by  purchase  and  redemption. 

The  will  of  God  is  to  be  sought  in  the  statute-law  of  the  gospel — the 
jilain  and  e^cpress  decrees  which  define  and  regulate  our  duty.  It  is  hu- 
portant  to  notice  and  to  remember  that  the  service  we  are  to  i^erform  is 
not  left  to  our  choice.  We  have  no  rights  of  legislation  in  the  premises. 
Our  task  is  assigned  us,  divinc4y  appomted.  Lord,  what  wilt  Thoa 
have  me  to  do  ?  ought  to  be  the  inquiry  of  every  human  spirit.  The 
word  of  God  gives  the  answer :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God 
with  all  thy  heart,  with  all  thy  mind,  Avith  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy 
strength,  and.  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  This  is  the  law  and  the  proph- 
ets— the  true  philosojihy  of  life — the  first  and  second  commandments. 
On  these  liang  all  the  subordinate  requirements  of  "judgment,  mercy, 
and  faith."  The  pi-ecepts  of  Christianity  are  so  wisely  and  graciously 
adapted  to  promote  the  private  interests  of  individuals  and  the  general 
welfare  of  human  society,  that  many  who  are  disaffected  toward  the 


476  GEORGE    F.    PIERCE. 

divine  government,  will,  for  their  own  sakes,  choose  to  do  many  things 
which  are  just,  and  kind,  and  beneficent.  These  things  are  comely,  re- 
putable, of  good  report  among  all  men  ;  and  a  man  can  not,  therefore, 
serve  himself  more  eflectually  than  by  practicing  the  great  virtues  of 
humanity.  Man's  chief  controversy  is  with  God — against  him  he  wars. 
He  is  not  naturally  the  enemy  of  his  kind.  ,  While  some  fierce  and  im- 
social  passions  occasionally  break  out,  and  startle  us  by  the  atrocity  of 
some  monstrous  individual  crime,  and  while  nations  Avronght  into  fury 
sometimes  quench  their  hate  in  blood,  yet  commonly  the  social  instinct, 
and  the  love  of  ease,  and  the  fear  of  retribution,  prevail  over  what  is 
hostile  and  malignant  in  our  nature.  In  the  absence  of  injury  or  provo- 
cation, men  generally  wish  others  well,  and  are  even  disposed  to  do 
them  good.  To  some  of  the  duties  of  Christianity  there -is  therefore  no 
natui-al  aversion — no  active  repugnance.  And  it  is  greatly  to  be  feared 
that  many  are  basing  their  hopes  of  heaven  upon  their  exemption  from 
the  vices  that  corrupt  and  embroil  society — upon  their  amiable  feelings 
and  kind  relations — upon  neighborly  ofiices  and  charitable  expenditures. 
But  those  virtues  which  are  merely  human — educational — conventional 
— can  not  save.  In  this  world  they  have  their  origin,  their  use  and  their 
reward.  The  great  element  of  piety  is  wantuig.  There  is  no  refei-ence 
to  God.  And  here  is  a  marked  difference  between  the  man  who  lives 
for  himself,  and  the  man  who  lives  unto  the  Lord.  The  one  obeys  a 
constitutional  impulse  perhaps — consults  his  reputation,  his  business,  his 
influence  ;  or,  it  may  be,  rising  a  little  higher,  he  may  rightly  estimate 
his  responsibilities  as  a  father  or  as  a  sitizen,  and  so  is  honorable,  moral, 
refined.  But  he  is  without  God  in  the  world.  O,  the  loneliness  and 
destitution  of  such  a  spirit !  Atheism  is  his  religion,  if  not  his  creed  ;  or 
at  best  he  is  an  idolater — himself  the  idol.  The  other  realizes  the  divine 
authority,  and  obeys  because  God  commands. 

The  relative  duties  of  life  are  performed  not  to  gratify  a  native  gene- 
rosity, or  eke-  out  a  dubious  popularity,  but  as  pai't  of  the  seiwice  and 
homage  due  his  Maker.  Over  the  whole  circumference  of  his  engage- 
ments— in  the  bosom  of  his  family — the  busy  marts  of  trade — the  retire- 
ment of  the  closet — the  worship  of  the  sanctuary — the  citizenship  of  the 
world — there  presides  a  solemn  recognition  of  the  divine  presence,  his 
being  and  his  empire,  and  every  step  is  taken  in  reference  to  him  as  a 
witness  and  a  judge.  I  know  that  many  profess  and  seem  to  be  religious 
on  lower  principles.  Public  opinion — consistency — ease  of  conscience  to 
shun  hell,  to  gain  heaven,  all  operate,  and  they  supersede  and  detlirone 
the  higher  law  in  the  text.  Not  that  these  motives  are  illegitimate,  but 
pailial  and  inferior.  They  ought  not  to  become  principal  and  paramount  ; 
and  they  can  not  without  a  deleterious  unhingement  of  character,  and  a 
transfer  of  our  duty  fi'om  the  ground  of  what  is  divine  and  authoi-itative, 
to  that  Avhich  is  human  and  self  pleasing.  The  motive  in  the  text  is  com- 
prehensive, embracing  all  lower  ends — ha,rmonizes  all,  yet  subordinates 


DEVOTEDNESS    TO     CHRIST.  477 

them  all  to  its  own  sovereign  sway.  Like  a  conqueror  at  the  head  of 
his  battalions,  it  marches  forth  to  subdue  the  insurgent  elements  that 
would  dispute  its  dominion.  It  is  the  "  stronger  man"  keeping  his  goods 
in  peace.  Without  it,  there  can  be  no  consecration,  and  with  it  no  com- 
l>romise  of  duty.  The  failure  to  recognize  and  adopt  this  great  princii)le 
of  morality,  has  fearfuhy  diluted  the  experience  of  the  church,  and  em- 
barrassed every  department  of  Christian  service.  "I  will  run  in  the  way 
of  thy  commandments,  when  thou  shalt  enlarge  my  heart,"  said  the 
Psalmist.  No  man  can  rise  above  the  constraining  considerations  which 
spring  from  interest,  feeling,  safety,  pletisure,  in  reference  to  all  minor 
questions  of  duty,  save  as  he  resolves  religion  into  some  great  general 
l)rinciples  and  purposes,  from  the  decisions  of  which  there  is  no  appeal. 

These  principles,  wisely  adopted  and  well  understood,  will  marshal 
all  the  chances  and  changes  of  life,  all  its  untoward  events,  all  its  inter- 
fering agencies,  so  that  they  shall  fliU  into  ranks  like  well-trained  soldiers 
under  the  command  of  a  superior  ofiicer.  They  simplify  rehgion,. disen- 
tangle it  from  all  purely  selfish  influences,  from  the  bias  of  worldly  inter- 
ests, from  the  guile  of  passion,  and  leave  a  man  free  to  glorify  God 
according  to  the  Scriptures.  How  simj^le  and  sublime  the  character, 
deriving  its  greatness  and  worth  from  God  and  duty !  How  grandly  in- 
de})endent  is  he  who  knows  no  fear  but  the  fear  of  God,  who  seeks  no 
favor  but  the  smile  of  Jesus,  and  whose  single  eye  scans  all  things,  grent 
and  small,  in  the  Hght  which  no  shadow  can  eclipse  !  His  life  regulated 
liy  one  great  pervading  law  and  purpose,  he  escapes  all  the  trials  by 
Avhich  feebler  and  less  decided  Christians  are  tormented  and  impeded. 
His  heart,  consecrated  in  all  its  plans  and  purposes,  falters  not  at  sacrifice, 
or  peril,  or  suffering.  Difficulties  and  doubts  he  has  none.  His  religion 
is  to  him  a  law  that  never  changes.  His  heart  is  fixed,  trusting  in  the 
Lord.  His  plan  of  life  settled  scriptnrally,  advisedly,  and  in  the  fear  of 
(iod,  he  is  not  to  be  bought  or  bribed,  frightened  or  defeated.  Turn- 
ing neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  he  moves  right  on.  If,  along  his  path- 
way, the  den  of  lions  opens,  he  lies  down  and  lodges  for  the  night,  and 
in  the  morning  tells  how  the  angel  kept  him.  If  the  furnace  be  kindled 
to  test  or  to  destroy  him,  he  walks  unburned  in  the  flame,  and  comes 
forth  without  the  smell  of  fire  upon  his  garments.  Escaped  from  the 
shallows  and  the  breakers  where  so  many  toil  with  unavailing  oar,  he 
has  launched  on  the  deep,  and,  favored  by  wind  and  tide,  looks  with 
a  lively  hope  for  an  abundant  entrance  into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of 
our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

But  the  principle  I  am  discussing,  considered  as  a  test  of  character  and 
a  rule  by  which  to  adjudicate  our  Christian  claims,  is  worthy  of  enlarge- 
ment. Living  unto  the  Lord  implies  that  we  make  the  approbation  of 
God  our  governing  aim — that  we  study  to*  please  him,  and  that,  what- 
ever we  do,  we  do  all  to  his  glory. 

Iteligion,  to  be  saving,  must  be  supreme  :  "  My  son,  give  me  thy 


478  GEORGE     F.    PIERCE. 

heart" — "He  tlifiv  lo\-eth  flxther  or  mother  more  than  me,  is  not  worthy 
of  me."  God  claims  the  body  and  the  spirit.  He  will  not  divide  the 
empire,  which  is  liis  by  right,  with  invaders  and  usurpers.  Unless, 
therefore,  his  approval  is  the  predominant  motive,  we  not  only  base  our 
Christianity  upon  mistaken  apprehensions  of  the  divine  claims,  but  we 
ix'pudiate  the  only  j^rinciple  which  can  subjugate  the  rebellious  elements 
and  passions  of  our  fallen  nature.  Before  conversion,  we  form  attach- 
ments and  allow  indulgences  wholly  inconsistent  with  a  life  of  devotion. 
To  do  well,  we  must  iirst  cease  to  do  evil.  The  flesh,  with  its  affections 
and  lusts,  must  be  crucified.  Self-denial  is  the  first  law  of  discipleship. 
Who  would  submit  to  have  the  right  hand  cut  off,  the  right  eye  plucked 
out — much  less,  perform  the  operation  upon  himself — unless,  by  the  ex- 
l)ulsive  power  of  a  new  and  holy  affection,  these  enemies  which  encamped 
within  his  heart  shall  be  routed  and  taken  captive  ?  There  must  be  the 
ascendancy  of  another  and  a  higher  principle  than  any  which  is  merely 
liuman,  to  break  down  the  dominion  of  appetite,  and  passion,  and  habit. 
Flesh  and  blood  are  sad  counselors  in  the  work  of  God.  To  consult 
them  is  to  betray  our  spiritual  interests.  The  multitude  do  evil — we 
must  dare  to  be  singular.  But  who  will  come  out  from  the  world — ■ 
brave  its  scorn — defy  its  persecution — disdain  its  blandishments,  and 
rebuke  its  ungodliness  by  declining  its  fellowship  ?  None  but  those  who 
ieel  that  God's  smile  amply  remunerates  for  the  world's  contempt,  and 
that  the  testimony  that  v/e  please  him  outweighs  all  earthly  treasure, . 
and  outshines  all  earthly  glory. 

To  live  for  Christ,  and  to  live  for  ourselves,  is  utterly  impracticable. 
The  union  is  a  moral  impossibility.  We  love  a  good  name ;  but  they 
that  will  live  godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall  suffer  persecution.  We  are 
rich  ;  but  the  command  is.  Sell  all  that  thou  hast,  and  give  to  the  jDOor, 
and  coma  follow  me.  We  love  home  and  friends ;  but  Christ  calls  to 
absence,  and  labor,  and  sacrifice.  Religion  is  popular — you  embrace  it : 
the  church  is  fashionable — you  join  it.  The  people  shout  Hosanna,  and 
Jesus  is  escorted  by  a  worshiping  multitude — you  say,  "  Lord,  I  will  fol- 
low thee  whithersoever  thou  goest."  The  Master  replies  :  "  The  foxes 
have  holes,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  have  nests,  but  the  Son  of  man  hath 
not  where  to  lay  his  head."  What  will  you  do  now  ?  Go  away  sor- 
rowfil  ?  or,  having  counted  the  cost,  go  on  to  build?  "  Choose  ye  this 
day  whom  ye  will  serve  ;"  or  have  you  settled  this  question  long  ago  in 
favor  of  duty  and  Ileaven  ?  Are  you  living  unto  the  Lord  ?  You  are 
making  a  fortune — is  it  that  you  may  do  more  good  ?  You  are  rising 
ill  the  world,  seeking  title,  and  honor  and  influence — is  it  that  you  may 
enlarge  your  sphere  of  usefulness  ?  O  brother,  if  the  carnal  afiection 
grows  along  with  the  carnal  interest,  thy  prosperity  may  destroy  thee. 
Or  if  thou  art  seeking  thy  owA  pleasure,  gratification,  and  advancement, 
thou  hast  fallen  from  grace.  Even  Christ  pleased  not  himself.  Paul 
obeyed  the  heavenly  vision  immediately,  conferring  not  with  flesh  and 


DEVOTEDNESS    TO    CHRIST.  479 

blood.  And  every  man  who  would  fulfill  the  gi-eat  purposes  of  his  crea- 
tion and  redemption,  must  make  God's  approving  judgment  the  motive 
of  all  his  actions,  and  the  goal  of  all  his  efforts.  O,  how  the  saints  of 
the  Bible  luxuriated  in  this  element  of  devotion  !  "  One  thing  have  I 
desired  of  the  Lord,  that  wiU  I  seek  after :  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of  my  life,  to  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord  and  to 
inquire  in  his  temple."  "  I  count  all  things  but  loss,  for  the  excellency  ot 
the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus  my  Lord."  These  exemplars  illustrate  our 
subject.  They  lived  unto  the  Lord.  In  his  favor  was  life.  "  A  day  in 
his  courts  was  better  than  a  thousand."  The  Avorld's  parade  and  pomp 
paled  before  the  glory  of  the  sanctuary.  The  festal  charms,  the  music 
and  the  mirth  of  the  tents  of  wickedness,  were  despised,  and  the  lowest 
place  in  the  house  of  God  jireferred.  They  felt  that  they  did  not  live  at 
all  except  as  they  lived  unto  the  Lord. 

This  is  the  spiiit  of  the  text.  Life  is  not  to  be  measured  by  days  and. 
months  and  years,  but  by  a  succession  of  services  to  him  that  loved  us, 
and  gave  himself  for  us.  I  have  no  doubt  that  when  the  last  hour  comes 
— that  hour  for  which  earth  has  no  comfort  and  philosophy  no  hope — 
when  the  spirit  disenthralled  from  the  seductions  of  time,  the  witchery 
of  sense,  shall  stand  face  to  face  with  the  realities  of  an  eternal  state, 
then  even  life's  most  serious  engagements  will  all  seem  as  vacancies,  like 
the  hours  j^assed  in  sleep,  and  the  pleasures  of  the  world  like  the  vagaries 
of  sleep  itself.  Go,  buy,  sell,  get  gain — build  a  name — rear  houses — add 
field  to  field — project  public  improvements — locate  railroads — plan  em 
pires  :  this  is  all  labor  and  travail — vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit. 

This  is  to  breathe,  not  to  live — to  work,  not  to  enjoy.  "All  flesh  rs 
grass,  and  the  glory  of  man  as  the  flower  of  the  grass  ;"  "  but  he  that 
doeth  the  will  of  God,  liveth  and  abideth  forever."  To  love  God,  this  is 
joy :  to  know  Christ,  this  is  gain  :  to  do  good,  this  is  life.  Mortal  man  ! 
child  of  the  dust !  this  vain  life  which  we  spend  as  a  shadow,  is  but  the 
vestibule  of  being.  Here  we  die  while  we  live  :  the  cradle  rocks  us 
to  the  tomb.  We  spend  our  strength  for  naught.  Riches  fledge  and 
fly  away.  Honor  is  but  a  dew-drop,  glittering  in  the  morning  ray,  ex- 
haled by  the  very  beam  that  makes  it  shine.  Love  and  friendship — the 
heart's  blest  aflections— wounded,  pine  ;  oi*,  bereaved,  they  dwell  among 
the  dead,  like  Mary  weeping  there.  O  !  where  is  the  bloom  without  the 
blight  ?  the  sun  without  the  cloud  ?  Loi-d  Jesus,  thou  Avnlt  show  me  the 
path  of  life ;  in  thy  presence,  though  dimly  seen,  is  unutterable  joy,  and 
where  thou  art  in  glory  visible,  is  heaven. 

"  Whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord."  This  is  an  important  dec^ 
laration,  "  wholesome  and  full  of  comfort,"  "  Precious  in  the  sight  of 
the  Lord  is  the  death  of  his  saints."  The  death  of  a  good  man  is  of  too 
much  import  to  happen  by  chance.  It  *is  an  importaiit  instrument  in 
God's  plans  of  mercy  and  judgment.  The  event  is  big  with  instruction. 
Not  to  lay  it  to  heart  when  the  righteous  perish,  is  criminal  insensibility 


480  GEORaB     F.    PIERCE. 

— a  wicked  indifference  to  tlie  dispensations  of  heaven.  Such  a  death  is 
a  puljlic  calamity.  It  is  not  a  sparrow  falling  to  the  ground,  a  flower 
fading  in  the  field,  "  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf"  afloat  upon  the  au- 
tumnal gale,  and  then  descending  to  the  earth,  where  its  mates  of  the 
forest  lie  hueless  and  dead.  A  light  is  quenched,  and  the  darkness 
grows  deeper.  The  world  is  bereaved  of  a  conservative  influence.  The 
prayers  he  would  have  ofiered  are  lost,  and  if  "  the  fervent  effectual 
prayer  of  a  righteous  man  availeth  much,"  how  great  the  loss  !  The 
family  loses  a  guide  and  guardian,  the  church  an  example,  the  country  a 
benefactor.  He  sei-ves  the  country  best  who  loves  God  most.  He  is  not 
the  patriot  who  fights  the  nation's  battles,  right  or  wrong  ;  but  he  who 
leads  a  life  of  quietness  and  peace,  all  godliness  and  honesty.  He  is  not 
the  most  important  man  who  projects  your  laws,  marshals  your  parties, 
and  leads  in  poHtics  ;  but  he  who,  by  faith,  and  prayer,  and  power  with 
God,  averts  the  wrath  our  sins  provoke. 

David  did  more  for  Judah  when  he  bought  Araunah's  threshing-floor, 
built  an  altar,  ofiered  sacrifice,  and  stayed  the  pestilence,  than  when, 
with  kingly  authority,  he  despatched  Joab  to  quell  the  rebellion  of 
Absalom.  The  intercession  of  Moses,  when,  with  holy  boldness,  with 
daring  confidence,  he  rushed  between  the  ofiending  Israelites  and  the 
Almighty,  girded  for  battle  and  extermination,  and  prevailed  for  their 
salvation,  wrought  a  greater  wonder  than  when,  obedient  to  his  magic 
rod,  the  parted  waters  returned  in  vengeance  upon  Pharaoh's  pursuir.g 
host.  Elijah  was  the  chariot  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen  thereof— the 
bulwark  of  the  nation.  The  clouds  of  heaven  hung  their  keys  at  his 
girdle,  and  the  widow's  meal  and  oil  multiplied  beneath  his  blessing.  A 
good  man  !  O,  ye  men  of  royal  birth,  ye  sages,  statesmen,  heroes,  ye 
glimmer  fliintly  beside  the  saint  shining  in  the  image  of  God.  His  wis- 
dom is  divine,  his  flneage  heavenly,  and  gi-eater  than  he  who  taketh  a 
city,  for  he  hath  conquered  himself.  I  admire  architecture,  painting, 
scul]:)ture,  the  wonders  of  the  chisel  and  the  pencil.  I  love  nature  in  her 
mountain  majesty,  the  rolling  ocean  and  the  woodland  vales— all  that  is 
lovely  and  sublime  ;  but  God  is  witness,  I  w^ould  go  further  to  see  a  good 
man,  to  hear  him  talk  of  Jesus,  enter  into  his  communion,  feel  the  moral 
grandeur  of  his  destiny,  than  to  behold  any  achievement  of  art,  or  scene 
of  nature.  These  change  and  perish :  he  is  immortal.  He  thinks,  he 
feels,  he  loves.  His  body  is  the  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  his  Spirit 
is  bathed  in  the  glory  of  the  Shechinah — the  symbol  of  the  presence  and 
worship  of  God.  The  departure  of  such  a  man  is  a  token  of  displeasui-e. 
It  is  the  voice  of  heaven  in  judgment.  But,  though  the  family  is  afllicted, 
the  church  in  nionrning,  and  the  nation  smitten,  he  "  dies  unto  the  Lord," 
and  "  in  the  Lord."     With  him  "  it  is  well." 

Oi  the  text  may  find  its  fulfillment  in  that  God  hides  him  from  the 
evil  to  come.  I  ki.ew  a  good  man  who,  in  dying,  said,  "  My  God  is 
housino-  me  from  a  storm;"  and  tie  declaration  was  prophetic.     Soon 


DEVOTEDNESS     TO     CHRIST.  481 

evils  that  would  have  broken  liis  lieart  and  brought  him  m  sorrow  to  tlie 
gi-ave,  catne  upon  his  family  in  overwhelming  disaster.  Dangers — spiiit- 
ual  dangers — are  coming ;  domestic  calamities  draw  nigh  ;  national 
troubles  are  fermenting :  God  sees  the  clouds  gathei-ing,  the  elements 
brewing ;  and,  while  yet  the  cloud  is  as  a  man's  hand,  and  the  winds  are 
murmuring  aflxr  off,  he  transfers  his  faithful  servant  to  ihe  repose  of  the 
blest.  "  In  his  hand  are  all  my  ways."  Delightful  thought !  He  directs 
my  steps,  hears  my  sighs,  chooses  my  allotments,  numbers  the  hairs  of 
my  head,  is  about  my  bed  and  my  path,  and  knoweth  how  and  when  to 
deliver  :  "  Whether  we  die,  we  die  unto  the  Lord." 

But  it  may  be  asked.  Why,  if  the  righteous  are  so  dear  to  Christ  and 
so  valuable  to  the  world,  are  they  doomed  to  death  at  all  ?  Why  does 
not  religion,  which  saves  us  from  a  thousand  other  evils,  release  us  from 
this  law  of  mortality  ?  In  answer,  I  remark  :  The  reasons  are  obvious 
on  i-eflection.  Exemption  from  death  as  a  reward  of  piety  would  appeal 
so  strongly  to  the  love  of  life — the  quickest,  most  endurhig  instinct  of 
our  being — as  to  override  the  fi-eedom  of  choice,  and  thus  make  rational, 
voluntary  piety  impossible.  We  should  adopt  it  as  a  starving  man  would 
clutch  offered  bread,  or  the  man  dying  of  thirst  would  seize  the  cup  of 
cold  water.  And  besides  the  violence  done  to  our  nature  in  making  the 
propensities  decide  a  question  belonging — under  the  present  economy, 
and  in  the  proper  fitness  and  adaptation  of  things — to  the  intellect,  the 
lieart,  the  will,  the  incongruity  would  follow  of  proposing  a  carnal, 
earthly  motive  for  a  spiritual  Hfe.  On  such  a  plan,  Christianity  must  ap- 
prove what  she  now  repudiates ;  and  the  holy  considerations  by  which 
she  now  seeks  to  win  us  from  error  to  wisdom,  from  earth  to  heaven, 
would  all  be  neutralized  and  lost,  and  the  world  to  come  bo  doomed  to 
borrow  the  forces  of  time  to  achieve  its  noblest  victories. 

The  evil  of  sin  can  not  be  shown  but  by  its  punishment.  This  con- 
clusion is  legitimate  from  what  is  revealed  of  the  divine  administration, 
and  from  what  we  know  of  the  processes  of  conviction  iii  the  mind  of 
man.  God  hates  sin.  It  is  a  blot  upon  his  dominions.  But  he  has  not 
left  the  world  to  learn  the  fact  even  from  the  awful  denunciations  of  his 
word,  but  he  has  written  it  in  the  catastrophe  of  nations.  The  deluge, 
famine,  pestilence,  fire  and  brimstone  from  heaven,  have  been  the  mes- 
sengers of  his  wrath  and  the  instruments  of  retribution.  And  where, 
save  in  the  crucifixion  of  Christ  Jesus  and  the  damnation  of  the  guilty, 
w  ill  you  look  for  a  more  impressive  demonstration  of  God's  justice  and 
his  indignation  against  sin,  than  in  the  dying  agonies  of  infant  innocence, 
or  the  mortal  convulsions  of  him  who  dies  unto  the  Lord  ?  It  is  Avritten, 
"  The  body  is  dead  because  of  sin,"  even  when  "  the  spirit  is  life  because 
of  righteousness."  But  death,  with  all  its  antecedents  and  consequents 
— the  mournfid  harbingers  of  its  approach  and  its  power — the  loathsome 
desolations  of  its  victory  and  its  I'cign — to  the  saint  of  God  is  no  longer 
death.     It  is  but  dissolution — departure.     Sad  in  its  aspects  and  accom- 

31 


482  GEORGE     F.    PIERCE. 

paniraonts,  it  k  nevertheless  a  i-elease.  A  pillar  of  cloucl  and  fire,  its 
shadows  all  fall  on  this  side  of  the  grave  ;  beyond,  all  is  Ught,  and  life, 
and  glory.  We  die  unto  the  Lord,  and — may  I  not  add  ? — for  the  Lord. 
The  death  of  the  good  preaches  terror  to  the  wicked,  "  If  the  righteous 
scarcely  be  saved,  where  shall  the  sinner  and  the  ungodly  appear  ?"  O ! 
we  ask  not  "  Enoch's  rapturous  flight,  nor  Elijah's  fiery  steeds"  to  bear 
us  away,  if  by  dying  we  may  help  to  convmce  the  world  of  sin  and  judg- 
ment. We  would  do  good  even  in  death.  As  we  wish  to  live  to  serve 
him  "  who  loved  us,"  so  would  we  die  to  make  his  glory  known — "the 
justice  and  the  grace." 

"  Mark  the  perfect  man  and  behold  the  upright,  for  the  end  of  that 
man  is  peace."  "  The  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate"  is  a 
scene  of  glory.  See  his  patience  under  sufiering — the  calm  submission, 
and  often  the  joy  unutterable.  Is  this  human  fortitude — the  stoicism  ol 
a  blind  philosophy — the  outflashing  of  sentiment  and  fancy  ?  No,  no. 
It  is  the  fulfillment  of  promise,  grace  abounds.  It  is  the  conviction  that 
the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  will  do  right.  "Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will 
I  trust  in  Him."  It  is  the  knowledge  of  the  Redeemer  in  his  pardoning 
mercy — his  purifying  s\nvit — and  in  the  glory  soon  to  be  reA'ealed  in  its 
fullness  aaid  eternity.  It  is  an  argument  for  religion,  that  it  ends  vx'ell : 
"Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  Ms." 
The  prophet's  prayer  finds  an  echo  in  every  heart  not  lost  to  hope  and 
heaven.  Who  that  looks  upon  a  dying  scene  where  Christianity  wreathes 
the  pale  face  with  smiles  of  rapture,  and  inspires  the  failing  tongue 
to  utter  its  last  articulations  in  the  dialect  of  heaven,  does  not  breathe 
from  his  inmost  soul  the  wish — even  so  may  I  meet  the  last  enemy  ?  In 
life,  being  strong  in  faith,  we  give  glory  to  God ;  so  in  the  final  strug- 
gle He  is  glorified  in  us  and  by  us.  "  These  all  died  in  faith" — immortal 
record!  epitaph  of  the  good,  and  interpreter  of  their  doom.  Living  and 
dying,  "  we  are  the  Lord's — his  property — absolutely,  in  every  change, 
walking  upon  the  earth  and  sleeping  in  its  bosom.  He  made  us  and  he 
loves  us.  He  is  "not  ashamed  to  be  called"  our  God.  Life,  probation, 
and  death  ai-e  all  ministers  employed  by  him  to  do  us  good.  If  he  pro- 
long our  days,  it  is  that  we  may  serve  him  and  our  generation  by  the 
will  of  God.  If  he  afilict  us,  it  is  "  for  our  profit — that  we  may  be  par- 
takers of  his  holiness."  If  he  call  us  hence,  it  is  that  we  may  "see  him 
as  he  is,  and  be  like  him  forever."  Our  bodies  may  inhabit  the  house 
appointed  for  all  the  living,  and  our  very  name  perish  from  the  records 
of  time;  but  he  looks  down  and  "watches  all  our  dust  till  he  shall  bid 
it  rise."  We  are  the  Lord's — ^the  jewels  of  his  kingdom  and  the  travail 
of  his  soul.  He  hath  said  it,  and  it  shall  stand  fast :  "  they  shall  be 
mine."  "  Because  I  live,  they  shall  live  also."  "  We  are  the  Lord's." 
Let  us  rejoice  in  our  relationship,  and  walk  worthy  of  our  high  descent 
and  our  immortal  destiny. 

The  principle  and  spirit  of  the  text  were  beautifully  exemplified  in  the 


DEVOTEDNESS    TO    CHEIST.  483 

life  and  death  of  our  beloved  brother,  Bishop  Capers.  *  *  *  Duty  was 
his  law  in  life — his  watchword  at  the  gate  of  death.  Partially  relieved 
by  the  physician's  skill  and  the  power  of  medicine,  he  asked  the  hour. 
When  told,  he  exclaimed  :  "  What !  only  three  hours  since  T  have  been 
suffering  such  torture  ?  Only  three  hours !  What  must  be  the  voice 
of  the  bird  that  cries  '  Eternity  !  Eternity !'  Three  hours  have  taken 
away  all  but  my  religion."  Health  gone,  strength  gone,  hope  gone,  life 
almost  gone,  but  religion  abides  steadfast  and  stronger  !  Retreating  from 
the  shore  where  stand  wife,  children,  and  friends,  waving  their  last 
adieu,  but  my  religion  goes  with  me.  All  the  foundations  of  earth  are 
failing  me,  but  my  religion  still  towers  amid  the  general  wreck,  securely 
firm,  indissolubly  sure !  Glory  to  God  for  such  a  testimony  from  such 
a  man  t     *     *     * 

In  the  history  of  our  honored,  beloved  brother,  there  is  no  vice  to 
deplore,  and  no  error  to  lament.  I  say  not  that  he  was  perfect ;  but  I 
do  say,  a  world  of  such  men  would  liken  earth  to  heaven.  I  say  not 
that  he  had  no  infirmities,  no  human  frailties ;  but  I  do  say  that  his  self- 
sacrificing  spirit,  his  humble,  holy,  useful  labors,  his  unwearied  zeal,  and 
his  spotless  example,  are  to  his  descendants  a  noble  patrimony,  and  to 
the  church  a  priceless  heritage.  Alive,  he  was  a  demonstration  of  the 
power  and  truth  of  Christianity ;  bemg  dead,  he  yet  speaketh,  proclaim- 
ing to  all  that  God  is  faithful.  He  left  all  and  followed  Christ,  but 
never  lacked  any  good  thing.  Counting  all  things  but  loss  that  he  might 
win  Christ,  God  gave  him  friends  and  fame,  honor  and  usefulness.  A 
messenger  of  God,  his  visits  were  blessings.  The  country  admired  him 
and  the  church  loved  him.  His  death  fell  like  a  shadow  upon  many  a 
hearthstone,  and  his  native  State  became  a  valley  of  weeping.  Cities 
struggled  for  the  honor  of  liis  burial,  and  Methodism,  in  mourning,  re- 
peats his  funeral,  to  prolong  her  grief,  and  consecrate  his  memory.  O, 
brethren !  we  have  lost  a  friend,  a  brother,  an  advocate,  an  example,  a 
benefactor.  Earth  is  growing  poorer.  There  is  now  less  faith,  less  zeal, 
less  love  in  the  world.  The  righteous  are  perishing;  the  good  are 
taken  away.  O,  ye  venerable  fathers  of  the  church,  cotemporaries  and 
fellow-laborers  of  the  ascended  Capers,  your  ranks  are  broken.  The 
friends  of  your  youth  are  gone,  and,  relics  of  a  generation  well-nigh 
past,  ye  still  linger  among  us.  God  bless  you  :  we  love  you  much,  but 
we  can  not  keep  you  much  longer.  Your  sands  are  running  low ;  your 
change  is  at  hand.  •  You,  venerable  sir,*  are  almost  the  only  bond  that 
binds  the  preacher  and  his  congregation  to  the  pioneers  of  Methodism 
in  this  broad  country.  That  bond,  fretted  and  worn  by  more  than 
three-score  years  and  ten,  is  well-nigh  thrcadlcss,  attenuated,  and  ready 
to  break.  But  God  is  Avath  you.  The  raven  hair,  the  ruddy  cheek,  the 
vigorous  arm,  the  enduring  strength,  are  gone — all  gone;  hut  T/our 
religion,  too,  thank  God,  is  left  you.  Leaning  upon  that  staff,  you  are 
waiting  your  summons.      Heaven  bless  you  with  a  smiling  sunset,  a 


484  GEORGE    F.    PIERCE. 

pleasing  night,  and  a  glorious  morn.  And  you,  hoary  veterans  of  the 
cross — one  and  all — heroes  of  a  glorious  strife,  remnants  of  an  army 
slain  and  yet  victorious,  if  we  survive  when  ye  art^  gone,  how  bereaved 
and  solitary  our  lot !  But  ye  are  going :  the  wrinkled  brow,  the  fur- 
rowed cheek,  the  halting  step,  respond,  "  Yes,  we  are  going,"  Pray  for 
us  while  you  live,  and  bless  us  when  you  die. 

And  you,  brethren,  middle-aged  and  young,  let  us  imitate  the  ex- 
ample, catch  the  spirit  of  our  glorified  brother  and  fellow-laborer.  He 
felt  himself  a  debtor  to  the  wise  and  the  unwise.  The  White  man,  the 
Indian,  and  the  Negro,  all  shared  his  counsel,  his  labors,  his  sympathy, 
and  his  prayers.  The  white  fields  ai-e  yet  ungathered,  and  the  strongest 
reapers  are  falling.  The  mournful  event  we  commemorate  cries :  "  Go 
work  to-day  in  the  Lord's  vineyard."  This  is  our  duty,  and  ought  to  be 
our  only  business.  We  are  here,  as  oflBcers  and  ministers  of  our  branch 
of  the  church,  to  inaugurate  our  great  missionary  and  publishing  inter- 
ests under  new  auspices.  But  the  cold  shadow  of  death  falls  darkly 
upon  our  council-chamber.  Its  presence  is  a  warning.  We  have  home- 
interests  we  may  not  live  to  supervise  ;  there  are  plans  of  usefulness  we 
may  not  help  to  execute  ;  for  we  too  are  passing  away.  What  we  do 
must  be  done  quickly.  Let  us  live  unto  the  Lord — let  us  live  unto  the 
Lord  more  than  ever ;  let  us  be  more  prompt,  self-denying,  and  labori- 
ous. Let  us  be  steadfiist,  unmovable,  always  abounding  in  the  work  of 
the  Lord,  forasmuch  as  we  know  that  our  labor  is  not  in  vain  in  the 
Lord.  What  we  lay  out  he  will  repay.  Amid  our  toil,  inconveniences, 
and  ti-ials,  be  this  our  consolation  :  "  We  are  the  Lord's."  If  we  live 
till  our  i^hysical  powers  decay,  the  dim  eye  may  still  read  our  title  clear. 
On  Jesus'  bosom  we  may  lean  the  hoary  head,  and  in  death's  sad 
struggle  feel  our  kind  Preserver  near.  God  will  not  love  us  less  because 
'■  the  strong  men  bow  themselves,"  and  "  the  keepers  of  the  house 
tremble."  His  love  endureth  forever.  His  claim  is  undeniable,  his  title 
indisputable.  The  grave's  effacing  fingers  can  not  mutilate  the  hand- 
writing. Time's  ponderous  wheel,  as  it  grinds  the  world  to  dust  on  its 
march  to  judgment,  can  not  destroy  the  record.  "A  book  of  remem- 
brance is  written  before  him,"  safe  beyond  the  desolations  of  earth,  and 
the  triumphs  of  the  sepulcher.  Heeding,  then,  the  solemn  providence 
which  bids  us  weep  a  brother  deceased,  let  us  go  forth  bearing  precious 
seed,  sowing  beside  all  waters — we  shall  rest,  and  stand  in  our  lot  at  the 
end  of  the  days.  "Whether  we  live,  therefore,  or  die,  we  are  the 
Lord's."  Living  and  dying,  dead  and  buried,  we  are  liis — his  when  we 
rise,  his  when  heaven  and  earth  are  fled  and  gone,  his  in  the  New  Jeru- 
salem, forever  and  forever ! 

*  Bishop  Soule. 


DISCOURSE    XXXV 


EICHARD    S.    STORRS,    JUN.,    D.  D . 

Some  thirteen  years  ago,  on  an  inclement  winter's  night,  a  small  company  of  men 
might  have  been  seen  consulting  together  in  a  lawyer's  office  in  Brooklyn,  as  if 
upon  matters  of  grave  interest.  The  theme  was  the  practicability  of  commencing 
a  new  church  enterprise ;  and  the  project  was  determined  upon.  It  was  the  initia- 
tive measure  in  the  organization  of  "  The  Church  of  the  Pilgrims,"  which  took 
place  in  the  year  1844.  In  July  of  that  year  the  corner-stone  of  their  costly  and 
unique  church  edifice  was  laid;  and  when,  nearly  two  years  later,  the  house  was 
dedicated,  and  a  minister  was  desired,  the  choice  fell,  after  considerable  consultation 
and  some  delay,  upon  the  young  pastor  of  the  Harvard  Congregational  church, 
Brookline,  Massachusetts — R.  S.  Storrs,  Jun. — who  came  to  their  ministry  in  the 
month  of  November,  1846,  and  Avho  still  continues  to  fill  the  pastorate  with  eminent 
success. 

Dr.  Storrs  represents  the  younger  preachers  of  the  American  pulpit;  having 
been  born  August  21st,  1821,  at  Braintree,  ^Massachusetts.  His  ancestry  is  emphati- 
cally ministerial.  The  father,  still  Uving — the  Rev.  Richard  S.  Storrs,  D.  D. — has 
been  pastor,  since  1811,  of  the  first  church  (Congregational)  in  Braintree.  His 
father  was  the  Rev.  Richard  S.  Storrs,  of  Long  Meadow,  Massachusetts ;  and  his 
father,  the  Rev.  John  Storrs,  of  Southold,  Long  Island.  The  subject  of  our  sketch 
was  graduated  at  Amherst  College,  in  1839,  under  the  presidency  of  Rev.  Dr.  Hum- 
phrey ;  and,  three  years  later,  made  a  public  profession  of  reUgion,  in  connection  with 
the  church  of  his  native  town.  After  graduation  he  read  law  for  some  time,  with  the 
purpose  of  entering  that  profession ;  but  subsequently  entered  the  Audover  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  where  he  completed  his  course,  in  1845,  and  the  same  year  took 
charge  of  the  Congregational  church  in  Brookline,  Massachusetts.  A  year  later,  as 
before  stated,  he  came  to  Brooklyn,  New  York;  and  the  young  society  has  .so 
increased,  as  to  number  at  the  present  time  about  430  communicants. 

In  personal  appearance.  Dr.  Storrs  is  tall,  rather  athletic,  and  slightly  inclined  to 
stoutness,  Avith  a  countenance  ruddy  but  intellectual.  His  voice  is  remarkable  for 
depth  and  power,  his  enunciation  rapid  but  distinct,  and  liis  whole  delivery  forcible 
and  impressive.  His  sermons  are,  in  the  main,  carefully  prepared ;  but  he  is  said  to 
discourse  sometimes  without  notes,  and  with  great  acceptance. 

He  has  published  some  eight  or  ten  occasional  sermons  and  addresses.  His  prin- 
cipal published  work  is  a  volume  of  "  Graham  Lectures,"  on  the  "  Wisdom,  Good- 
ness, and  Power  of  God,  as  manifested  in  tJie  Constitution  of  the  Human  Soul ;" 
which  is  a  fine  example  of  the  possible  combination  of  broad  philosophic,  and 
scientific  discussion,  with  apt  llustration,  and  the  various  embellishments  of  a  cul- 
tivated taste. 


486  EICHARD     S.    STORES,     JUN. 

There  are  few  writers  whose  productions  are  marked,  at  the  same  time,  by  a 
vigorous  logic  and  a  brilliant  rhetoric  in  a  greater  degree  than  those  of  Dr.  Storrs. 
There  is  always  maturity  of  thought,  with  an  affluence — ^perhaps  an  excess — of 
tropes  and  figures.  It  was  in  allusion  to  his  love  of  the  ornate,  however,  as  we 
believe,  that  the  remark  was  made,  "  that  dryness  is  not  always  soUdity,  ahd 
mayhap  he  is  as  great  a  sculptor,  who  hews  you  the  head  of  a  Jove,  crowned 
with  Olympian  locks,  and  wilh  majesty  on  its  awful  forehead,  as  he  who  whittles 
out  a  bare,  brainless,  eyeless  skull."  We  recently  met  with  the  following  criticism 
upon  one  of  Di-.  Storrs's  productions  ("  The  Constitution  of  the  Human  Soul," 
if  we  remember  rightly),  which  pretty  fairly  represents  the  pecuharities  of  his  style  : 

"  We  are  struck  with  the  variety  and  the  felicity  of  illustration  upon  almost 
every  page.  Sometimes  a  delicate  allusion,  a  parenthesis,  a  glancing  thought,  sug- 
gests some  rich  and  copious  imagery  in  the  mind  of  the  author,  which  he  does  not 
delay  to  give  the  reader,  because  of  the  weight  and  impulse  of  his  immediate 
theme ;  again,  he  pauses  that  we  may  look  upon  some  gorgeous  vista  or  adown 
some  fertile  vale,  yet  without  hindering  the  progress  of  our  journey  along  the  great 
highway  of  thought.  Of  the  author's  style,  we  can  only  say  that,  with  all  its 
affluence,  it  becomes  him  as  the  flowing  toga  of  Cicero  is  more  becoming  to  his 
statue  than  would  be  the  homespun  shorts  of  Dr.  Frankhn.  We  may  not  demand 
that  Dr.  Chalmers  shall  be  as  Robert  Hall,  and  Burke  as  Pitt,  in  their  style  of  elo- 
quence. The  style  of  Dr.  Storrs,  elaborate  as  it  seems,  is  not  artificial.  It  is  the 
style  of  his  extemporary  as  well  as  of  his  written  discourses ;  and  even  in  conver- 
sation, he  shows  the  same  richness  of  language  and  of  imagery.  His  words  are 
never  unattended  with  becoming  thoughts ;  his  figures  never  lack  an  underlying 
logic.  We  could  wish,  indeed,  that  he  would  make  more  frequeut  use  of  tliat 
sturdy  Saxon  which  he  so  well  knows  how  to  wield ;  even  as  we  more  enjoy 
TJialherg  in  '  Home,  Sweet  Home,'  than  in  the  most  complicated  and  brilliant 
fantasia.     Yet  who  would  not  hear  Thalberg  in  his  oion  style  ?" 

Some  of  Dr.  Storr's  finest  quahties  as  preacher,  are  perceptible  in  the  following 
discourse,  which  is  now  first  published. 


THE  PRIVILEGE   OF  COMMUNION  WITH  GOD. 

"  As  for  me,  I  will  behold  thy  fooe  in  righteousness :  I  shall  be  satisfied,  when  I  awake, 
with  tby  likeness." — Psalm  xvii.  15. 

The  Psalm  from  which  these  words  are  taken,  and  of  which  they  form 
the  noble  conclusion,  is  attributed  to  David ;  and  it  seems  to  have  been 
su2:gested  by  one  of  those  passages  of  affliction  and  peril  which  abounded 
in  his  life,  and  which,  with  him,  as  the  like  have  been  with  so  many  others, 
were  often  the  scenes  of  the  highest  and  richest  religious  experieufce. 
He  asks  God  to  uphold  him  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  and  to  show 
him  His  marvelous  loving-kindness  ;  to  keep  him  as  the  apple  of  the  eye, 
and  to  l)ide  him  under  the  shadoAV  of  His  wings.  In  vivid  contrast  with 
his  own  poor  estate,  he  pictures  the  prosperity  of  men  of  the  world ; 
who  have  their  portion  in  this  life ;  whose  ai>petite  is  filled  with  the 


THE    PRIVILEGE     OF     COMMUNION     WITH     GOD.        43'J 

pleasures  and  the  wealth  which  God  distributes  from  his  hid  treasures  ; 
whose  children,  also,  are  satisfied  after  them,  and  in  turn  leave  the 
rest  of  their  substance  to  their  babes.  '  All  this,'  it  is  implied  in  this 
animated  portraiture  of  such  abounding  and  continuous  prosperity,  'all 
this,  when  possessed,  makes  the  luxury  of  life  ;  this  enjoyment  of  power 
and  of  ample  resources,  descending  from  one  generation  to  another,  the 
farms  becoming  more  fruitful  and  more  large,  the  abode  of  the  family 
more  stately  and  spacious,  its  station  more  eminent,  its  connections  more 
wide,  as  parents  transmit  their  goods  to  children,  and  children's  children 
arise  to  enjoy  them.'  But,  "  as  for  me" — he  steps  from  this  summit  of 
worldly  prosperity  to  a  far  higher  good  which  he  chooses  in  place  of  it, 
a  possession  and  a  pleasure  which  utterly  transcend  it — "  as  for  me,  I 
■will  beliold  Thy  face  in  righteousness."  Being  pre})ared  for  it  by  right- 
eousness, I  will  meditate  upon  thee,  and  enjoy  the  sense  of  thine  accej)t- 
ance  and  favor  ;  and  "  I  shall  be  satisfied,  Avhen  I  awake,  with  Thy  like- 
ness !"  When  I  awake  upon  the  morrow ;  for  the  Psalm  was  made  to  be 
sung,  it  would  seem,  at  even-tide,  as  gatheiing  shadows  and  the  ap- 
pe.'uing  stars  invited  to  quiet  vesper  worship ;  tchenever  I  awake  ;  for 
while  others  are  counting  their  worldly  possessions,  I  will  return,  with 
every  morning,  to  this  enjoyment  of  God  ;  and  when  I  awake  in  the  last 
great  hour,  arishig  from  out  the  sleep  of  death,  in  the  freshness  and 
lieight  of  nobler  powers,  I  shall  forever  and  perfectly  be  satisfied  in  this 
vision  of  Thee,  and  in  likeness  to  Thee  ! 

As  I  said,  this  experience  and  this  longing  of  David,  so  simply  yet  so 
nobly  uttered  through  the  lyric  sweetness  and  pathos  of  his  song,  but 
represent  the  experience  of  multitudes  of  others  ;  of  all  who  before 
Or  since  his  day,  have  truly,  in  heart,  believed  in  God,  and  have  sought 
to  commune  with  him.  There  is  an  impression  common  among  men — 
it  seems  sometimes  to  be  shared  especially  by  those  of  intellectual  taste 
-and  habit,  and  of  large  mental  culture — that  communion  with  God,  with 
that  })rogressive  assimilation  to  his  character  which  it  is  the  office  and 
Ihe  tendency  of  this  to  produce,  are  in  their  nature  unattractive,  unre- 
warding ;  that  he  who  selects  these  as  the  chief  good  of  life,  must 
thenceforth  renounce  the  expectation  of  enjoyment';  that  it  is  duty 
alone,  and  not  inclination,  which  can  hold  him  to  this  aim.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  true  that  no  other  pleasure  which  is  known  on  the  carta 
is  so  eminent  as  that  which  comes  from  this  movement  of  the  soul  to- 
ward God.  No  other  experience  is  so  lofty  in  its  nature,  or  the  source 
of  a  happiness  so  satisfying  and  serene.  The  utmost  enjoyment  of  worldly 
prosperity  becomes  dull  and  poor  in  comparison  with  this.  This  alone, 
too,  is  enduring,  as  well  as  precious. 

It  is  this  thought  which  I  would  consider  this  morning,  as  being  led  to 
it  by  the  text,  and  as  finding  a  truth  in  it  which  most  intunately  concerns 
us,  for  this  life  and  for  the  future:  ax  ixtelugkxt  axd  sympathetic 

COMMUNION    WITH    GoD,    EESrLTINCi   IX    'a    GHADUALLT   TKUFECTED   ASSIM- 


48S  EICHARD     S.    STORES,    JUN. 

ILATION     TO     HIS     CHAEACTER,    IS    THE   NOBLEST   JOY    AND    PKIVILEGE     OP 

MAN.  Nothing  else  may  take  the  place  of  it.  ISTothing  else  may  com- 
pare with  it.  And  he  who  is  really  tlioughtful  and  candid,  must  feel, 
as  he  thinks  of  it,  that  if  he  misses  this  experience,  he  misses  the  grand- 
est act  and  attainment  of  which  his  soul,  with  all  its  fine  and  admirable 
powers,  has  been  made  capable.  The  theme  is  not  new,  but  it  is  grandly 
important,  and  we  may  well  spend  a  few  moments  upon  it. 

Remember,  then,  at  the  outset,  what  all  will  assent  to,  that  inteUlgent 
and  affectionate  cotninunion^  with  a  friend^  with  a  living  Human  Soul 
sympathetic  with  our  own,  is  the  source  of  our  keenest  earthly  happi- 
ness^ and  we  shall  be  ready  to  consider  moi-e  directly  such  communion 
with  God.  I  am  speaking  not  merely  or  chiefly  to  Christians,  in  the 
present  discourse,  but  to  all  who  are  thoughtful ;  and  therefore  I  com- 
mence at  a  point  where  your  own  judgment  and  consciousness  will  not 
fail  to  be  with  me. 

Life  everywhere  attracts  ns — the  Life  which  is  personal,  intellectual, 
spiritual — with  a  charm  and  a  power  which  matter  in  any  foi-m  never 
exhibits.  Every  landscape  of  the  painter  is  in  some  degree  imperfect,  it 
fails  to  produce  on  us  the  most  memorable  impression,  until  human  life  is 
associated  with  it.  This  may  be  done  directly,  by  the  visible  human 
figure  introduced  among  its  sceneries,  or  it  may  be  done  less  palpably, 
but  perhaps  more  skillfully,  through  the  portraiture  of  some  fruit  ox 
incident  of  man's  presence ;  by  the  sketch  of  a  road,  Avhich  refers  us  at 
once  to  those  who  have  traversed  it ;  by  the  glimpse  of  a  mossy  and  tree 
shaded  roof,  just  e\ddent  in  the  distance ;  by  a  smoke  among  the  forests, 
or  the  recent  cut  of  the  woodman's  ax  ;  by  the  idle  skiff  on  the  river- 
bank,  or  the  silent  scythe  suspended  from  the  branch,  or  by  the  patch  of 
golden  wheat,  waving  and  shining  beneath  the  sun.  If  in  no  other  way, 
the  resemblance  of  the  scene  to  some  one  with  which  we  are  ourselves 
familiar,  may  associate  it  with  man ;  or  simply  the  remembrance  of  the. 
artist  himself,  who  has  scaimed  it  and  meditated'it  before  he  transferred  its 
beauty  to  the  canvas.  But,  in  some  way,  we  need  to  have  it  connected 
with  the  action  and  the  experience  of  another  human  soul  (this,  I  think, 
has  almost  passed  into  a  canon  among  artists),  in  order  to  have  it  affect 
us  most  vividly.  Until  then,  it  is  distant,  abstract,  unreal ;  it  wants  real 
significance,  and  vital  attraction  ;  and  as  a  mere  creation  of  the  painter, 
projecting  his  day-dream  against  the  canvas,  we  pass  it  by  without  con- 
cern. 

But  the  more  distinctly  the  experience  and  the  action  of  some  living 
Soul  are  associated  with  it,  the  more  does  it  impress  us.  The  storm  at 
sea  must  show  in  the  midst  of  it  the  laboring  ship,  or  be  seen  tramplhig 
onward  over  fragments  of  wreck  ;  and  then  the  imagination  dwells  upon 
it  even  painfully,  and  can  not  let  it  go.  The  breath  of  the  storm  is  not 
on  the  canvass  only,  it  is  on  our  hearts.  We  hail  the  fluttering  speck  of 
sail  that  rises  in  the  distance,  as  the  harbinger  of  hope  to  us.   The  storm 


THE    TRIVILEGE    OF     COMMUNION    WITH     GOD.       S^Q 

on  land  must  be  seen  to  envelope  the  belcated  truveler ;  and  tlicn  our  syra- 
])athies  are  taken  up  by  the  picture,  and  we  go  out  with  that  traveler  into 
darkness  and  rain,  and  we  can  not  forget  him.  Tlie  sunny  landscape 
has  a  cottage  on  the  edge  of  it,  or  a  church-spire  in  the  distance,  or  an 
angler  haunting  its  Avillowed  brook,  or  a  woodman  in  its  glades;  and 
this  vivifies  the  whole.  The  moment  we  feel  that  Man  is  there,  with 
whose  action  and  uidicated  feeling  we  sympathize,  we  are  connected  with 
it  by  other  ties  than  those  of  mere  testhetic  admiration.  Some  one  with 
whose  thought  we  are  won  to  communion, — this  is  the  radiant  center  of 
the  picture  ! 

So  our  personal  experience  seems  always  imperfect,  unless  it  is  re- 
.sponded  to  by  the  sympathy  of  another,  also  living  and  peisonal.  On 
the  brink  of  the  cataract,  the  rapt  gazer  upon  the  floods,  as  he  holds  his 
breath  before  their  emerald  beauty,  or  trembles  at  their  terrible  downright 
})ower,  turns  to  his  even  unknown  companion,  to  catch  a  response  from 
his  equal  mind.  It  gives  a  relief  to  the  impression  of  the  terrible,  it  adds 
a  glow  to  our  enjoyment  of  the  charming,  to  find  another  who  accords 
with  our  feeling.  In  all  travel  we  need  society,  to  make  that  either  useful 
and  instructive,  or  pleasant.  At  home  we  require  it ;  and  the  dearest  and 
most  permanent  relations  of  life  are  founded  on  this  longing,  which  is 
native  to  the  heart  and  central  within  it,  after  communion  with  another 
whose  soul  shall  refine,  or  animate,  enforce  and  instruct  our  own.  It  is 
this,  we  know,  Avhich  constitutes  chiefly  the  joy  of  life ;  the  summit 
good  of  mere  earthly  experience.  Where  this  is,  the  cottage  becomes  a 
palace  of  the  heart,  whose  daily  routine  of  intercourse  and  of  care  has  a 
charm  beyond  imj^erial  pageants.  Where  this  is  not,  no  wealth  or 
si^lendor  can  fill  the  void ;  can  be  aught  else  to  the  sensitive  spirit  than 
the  stones  in  its  prison,  and  the  links  in  its  chain.  Connnunion  with 
others,  afiectionate  and  reciprocal,  this  is  what  makes  Home ;  not  build- 
ings or  trees,  or  swarded  lawns. 

So  literature  derives  its  essential  fascination  from  its  similar  ministry 
to  the  same  desire — the  desire  for  a  quickening  intellectual  communion 
Avith  those  who  are  gifted,  heroic  and  pui-e.  The  most  powerful  treatises 
which  the  world  has  gathered  in  the  gradual  progress  of  its  changing 
civilizations,  they  have  not  been  those  which  have  treated  most  ably  the 
abstract  themes  of  philosophy  or  the  mathematics.  They  have  been 
thos(!  in  which  the  personal  spirit  of  the  author,  his  views,  preferences, 
aims,  affections,  all  that  was  in  him  that  was  characteristic,  have  been 
most  amply  and  brightly  set  forth.  The  tragedies  of  Shakspeare  illus- 
ti"ate  this.*  The  race  never  tires  of  them,  and  never  outgrows  them,  be- 
cause Human  Life  is  omnipresent  throughout  them ;  sketched  with  such 
almost  supernatural  insight,  such  delicacy  of  thought,  such  copious 
])owei"  and  splendor  of  imagination,  that  we  feel  its  impulse,  and  are 
stin-ed  by  its  passion.  The  popular  power  of  writers  and  of  sjieakers  at 
the  present  day,  and  in  every  day,  depends  upon  the  same  thing,  and  is 


490  RICHARD     S.    STORRS,  JUN. 

measurable  by  it ;  their  ability  to  draw  into  hearty  spiritual  conference 
witli  themselves  the  minds  wliich  they  address.  He  who  has  this  is 
mighty  by  reason  of  it,  because  all  desire  the  pleasure  it  imparts.  The 
man  A\hohaa  never  intimately  known  that,  knoAvs  by  the  motions  and 
inward  promptings  of  his  outreaching,  responsive  soul,  that  in  such  real 
and  personal  communion  with  a  great  and  pure  mind,  he  will  gain  a  vast 
good ;  while  he  who  has  felt  it  knows  that  nowhere  else  is  there  a 
pleasure  so  high,  yet  also  so  permanent,  within  the  compass  of  earthly 
experience.  To  look  upon  sights  of  natural  beauty,  the  sea,  the  sky,  the 
floating  clouds  the  stable  meadows  with  their  sentinel  trees,  the  beaming 
dawn  and  the  resplendent  day-shut — all  this  is  beautiful ;  a  daily  joy  to 
all  line  natures.  To  live  surrounded  by  the  gracefulness  of  art,  or  its, 
austere  and  somber  majesty,  to  have  literature  at  hand,  and  gardens 
nigh,  and  all  the  resources  of  comfort  and  jjleasure  in  affluent  plenty  on 
every  hand — this  seems  the  chmax  of  the  usual  conditions  of  human  en- 
joyment. But  a  pleasure  far  higher  than  is  ministered  by  these,  an 
exj^erience  more  elevated  and  more  rewarding  than  is  found  in  them,  is 
that  which  is  found  in  free,  intelligent,  symj^athetic  communion  with 
one  i^ure  heart,  with  one  refined  and  cultivated  mind.  And  the  more 
complete  in  development  that  mind,  the  more  exalted  and  pure  that 
heart,  the  richer  is  the  pleasure.  I  need  not  tarry  to  argue  this.  To 
state  it  is  to  prove  it.  The  attempt  to  demonstrate  it  were  a  libel  on 
your  consciousness,  and  an  insult  to  your  judgment. 

But  now  reach  upward  from  this  fixed  point,  with  which  all  ai'e  fa- 
miliar, to  that  as  personal  communion  -with  God  to  which  the  Psalmist 
aspired  in  the  text,  and  which  he  held  so  supreme  and  transcendent  in 
comparison  of  all  else ;  and  consider  how  sublime  must  be  that  mental 
action,  I!  ud  how  full  of  reward!  1  do  not  ask  you  to  consider  it  as 
Christians.  Consider  it  as  thoughtful  men,'  aware  of  your  powers,  and 
believing  in  God  ;  and  say  what  you  think  of  it ! 

We  may  have  a  sympathy  and  a  conference  with  God,  remember,  as 
intimate  and  as  instant  as  with  any  other  being ;  perhaps  I  should  say 
more  intimate  than  with  any.  It  has  been  reserved  for  Christianity  to 
reveal  this ;  for  ancient  science,  or  poetry,  or  theology,  knew  nothing 
about  it.  But  now,  assuming  the  teachings  of  the  Scriptures  concerning 
God  and  concerning  the  soul,  it  is  logically  demonstrable,  while,  as 
matter  of  religious  experience,  we  know  it.  God's  presence  amid  and 
throughout  the  creation  is  immediate  and  is  constant ;  not  a  presence 
of  thought  merely,  or  of  organizing  plans,  or  of  secondary  forces  opei-- 
atmg  tor  him,  but  of  his  own  j)ersonal  and  infinite  mind.  *He  is  near, 
he  is  with,  every  one  whom  he  has  made ;  and  while  no  sense  takes 
cognizance  of  his  glory,  and  no  human  spirit  is  bowed  beneath  its  august 
burden,  the  soul  that  thinks  of  him,  and  that  fiiithfully  and  aifectionately 
aspires  to  meet  him,  becomes  often  intimately  aware  of  liis  presence. 
That  pj'esencc  is  constant  too,  as  well  as  immediate  ;  so  that  at  no  time 


THE    PRIVILEGE     OF    COMMUXION    WITH    GOD.         4,21 

in  all  our  life,  and  amid  no  scenes,  ai-e  we  in  the  least  removed  from 
God.  On  sea  or  land,  at  the  tropics  or  at  the  i^oles,  the  personal 
energizing  mind  of  the  Most  High,  ubiquitous  and  supreme,  and  everv- 
Avhere  perfect,  includes  us  continually,  and  even,  in  the  mystic  pre- 
rogative of  divinity,  without  invading  our  equal  personality,  pervades 
and  sustains  us.  The  loneliest  scene  is  populous  with  this  presence. 
The  commonest  habitation  hath  in  it  this  grandest  of  all  sublimities. 
The  pillar  of  stone  becomes  a  temple,  the  crag  of  granite  seems  a  part 
of  the  chrysolite  -walls  of  heaven,  when  the  eyes  of  tlipse  who  stand  before 
them  are  anointed  to  see  this  indwelling  Presence,  wherewith  the  desert 
and  the  peak  are  both  consecrated  ! — We  may  then  have  communion 
and  intercourse  with  this  mind,  of  him  who  built  and  who  governs  the 
world,  "VVe  may  directly  confer  with  him,  and  be  conscious  of  his  sym- 
pathy. Prepared  for  it  by  righteousness,  we  may  with  clear  vision  be- 
hold his  face  ;  and  when  we  wake,  and  when  we  sleep,  be  still  with  him. 
Observe  then  how  eminent  an  attainment  this  is.  Let  us  note  briefly 
one  or  two  of  those  facts  in  the  nature  and  the  chai*acter  of  God  our 
author  which  mark  this  the  noblest  privilege  of  the  soul.  O,  that  his 
grace  might  so  assist  us,  that  all  our  thoughts  and  all  our  hearts  should 
turn  to  him,  as  we  meditate  on  them  ! 

L  In  the  first  place,  to  illustrate  the  theme  from  one  side,  which  [ 
take  because  it  is  less  familiar  than  others  might  be,  remember  how 
perfectly  replete  is  GocPs  mind  v:ith  all  the  laics  and  types  of  beauty  ; 
and  then  think,  from  this  point,  how  blessed  it  must  be  to  have  com- 
munion with  him ! 

We  go  into  a  collection  of  flowers  and  fruits,  like  those  which  are 
often  exliibited  in  the  city  or  the  populous  village,  and  there  observe 
the  innumerable  varieties  of  color  and  of  form  assembled  before  us;  and 
they,  if  we  are  thoughtful,  shall  teach  us  this  lesson.  Crimson,  purple, 
scarlet,  violet,  eveiy  possible  shade  and  tint  of  the  green,  the  purest 
white,  the  richest,  most  velvety  dark-blue  or  black,  j^earl  color,  gold 
color,  lilac,  vermilion,  shades  that  melt  into  and  are  lost  in  each  other, 
shades  that  are  far  too  delicate  to  be  defined  by  the  relatively  coarse 
ai)i)aratus  of  words — ^all  are  here,  in  inexhaustible  richness,  in  seemingly 
inextricable  confusion  and  medley,  yet  in  really  absolute  proportion  and 
harmony.  Very  often  several  are  combined  in  one  flower  ;  and  alway>, 
when  combined,  in  most  beautiful,  even  musical,  agreement  and  concord. 
The  cuj)  of  the  blossom  is  of  white,  edged  with  crimson  ;  the  petals  are 
of  scarlet,  drooping  gracefully  out  of  their  silver  sheath;  and  even  these 
are  tufted  and  crested  at  the  end,  as  if  by  a  patient,  assiduous  tasteful- 
ness  that  could  not  let  them  go,  with  a  golden  finish.  Pass  from  one 
])lant  to  another,  from  one  stand  and  parterre  to  another,  and  to  others, 
and  still  everywhere  you  are  niet  by  the  same  amazhjg  variety  and  har- 
mony of  delicate,  vivid,  and  interlaced  hues.     The  total  impression  is  one 


492  RICHARD     S.    STORRS,    JUN. 

of  complete  and  most  affiuent  beauty  ;  a  beauty  apparent  at  the  slightest 
inspection,  yet  a  beauty  rewarding  the  most  diligent  study,  and  ever 
more  fully  and  brightly  apparent  as  we  study  it  the  more  carefully. 

The  more  spiritual  beauty  of  structure  and  of  form  is  also  united  with 
this  of  color.  One  flower  stands  in  stately  grace,  a  very  queen  among 
her  subjects.  Another  gracefully  droops  from  the  stalk,  as  if  arching  its 
neck,  and  bowing  its  meek  and  grateful  head,  before  the  eye  of  him- who 
formed  it.  Another  sways  at  every  breath,  and  silently  floats  on  aerial 
currents  ;  and  still  another  runs  swiftly  upward,  with  climbing  motion, 
that  almost  suggests  a  human  aspiration  in  the  ascending  and  forth-reach- 
ing tendrils.  Take,  now,  these  flowers  and  blossoming  plants  just  as 
they  stand,  and  the  painter  who  should  perfectly  reproduce  them  from 
his  palette  might  name  his  own  reward  to  the  sovereigns  of  the  earth. 
If  one  of  Raphael's  pictures  of  the  Madonna  is  valued,  and  has  been  sold, 
at  the  price  of  more  than  a  moderate  fortune,  what  mines  of  wealth 
would  be  adequate  to  purchase  the  perfect  re-production,  in  imperishable 
colors,  of  that  brilliant  scene  contained  in  each  flower-show  ?  especially, 
if  amid  it  might  be  shown,  on  the  same  immense,  resplendent  canvas, 
the  intellectual  beauty  of  the  forms  moving  through  it,  the  bounding  and 
consummate  pleasure  of  childhood,  the  sensitive  and  appreciating  admir- 
ation of  woman,  the  more  severe  grace  of  manly  thought.  Put  birds 
and  flowers,  a  fountain  in  the  midst,  and  human  faces  illustrating  the 
whole,  on  one  grand  portraiture,  and  he  who  possessed  that  would  make 
his  gallery  a  very  sun  of  international  art,  illuminating  the  whole  sys- 
tem with  perpetual  radiations,  attracting  and  inspiring  the  finest  minds 
everywhere ! 

Yet  God  reproduces  such  pictures  continually.  He  will  not  let  one 
stay  when  he  has  traced  it,  but  rubs  it  out  as  fast  as  he  has  drawn  it,  to 
show  another  more  splendid  still.  We  try  to  make  the  flower  immortal, 
and  almost  pine  because  it  is  not.  We  would  stop,  if  we  could,  the 
steady  and  silent  wheels  of  time,  before  they  crushed  the  fragile  glory. 
God  will  not  let  the  flower  live,  because  he  has  another  yet  nobler 
thought,  of  more  complete  beauty,  which  he  would  show  us.  He  hangs 
around  such  sights  of  beauty  the  stately  gi'ace  and  majesty  of  the  earth 
— its  woods  and  plains,  its  streams  and  seas,  the  sunshine  flashing  over 
all,  the  sunsets,  gorgeous  in  their  pomp  of  pillared  amethyst,  opal,  gold. 
He  pours  the  beauty  of  the  moonlight,  even  upon  a  resting  world,  weird 
and  fantastic,  yet  lovely  as  a  dream.  He  spreads  the  infinite  canopy  of 
the  night,  and  touches  it  everywhere  with  dots  of  splendor.  He  makes 
each  season  a  moving  panorama  of  sights  and  sounds,  of  brilliant  gleams 
or  fragrant  odors,  full  constantly  of  beauty  to  him  who  studies  it. 

He  does  not  do  this  for  the  observation  of  man  alone,  remember  ;  he 
does  it  for  the  utterance  of  his  own  interior  and  spontaneous  thought. 
The  whole  creation  teems  thus  with  beauty,  because  his  own  mind  teems 
with  it  evermor*}.     He  fills  the  forest-depths,  which  no  man  sees,  with 


THE     PRIVILEGE     OP    COMMUNION    WITH    GOD,        49S 

foliage,  yearly  reproflucecl  and  yearly  lost,  age  after  ago ;  with  blossom- 
ing  vines ;  with  brilliant  and  tuneful  birds  ;  with  grasses  and  mosses,  all 
delicate  and  all  transient.  He  paves  the  sea  itself  with  shells,  and  edges 
the  coasts  with  coral  reefs,  and  makes  the  fish,  which  no  man  sees, 
except  through  some  strange  violence  of  storms,  a  very  mirror  of  every 
tint  most  sumptuous  and  splendid.  In  the  midst  of  the  forests,  in  the 
depths  of  the  solid  structure  of  the  tree,  he  hides  the  curling  and  delicate 
grains  which  art  laboriously  searches  out  and  displays.  Amid  rough 
rocks  he  drops  the  diamond  ;  under  the  rude  and  earthy  shell,  he  spreads 
the  sheen  of  precious  pearl ;  around  gray  cliffs  the  modest  harebells 
wreathe  their  necklace  at  his  command.  The  tiniest  insect  is  covered 
over  with  beauty,  his  wings  inlaid  and  plated  with  gold,  his  breast  and 
crest  tijiped  with  silver  and  pearl,  the  infinitesimal  lens  of  his  eye  bur- 
nished beyond  all  human  art ! 

And  then  God  goes  to  other  worlds,  with  his  untired  creative  energy, 
and  there  he  erects  a  still  different  structure.  He  lays  the  very  founda- 
tions differently,  of  masses  and  proportions,  that  he  may  build  the 
whole  edifice  anew,  and  may  spread  with  the  same  divine  prodigality 
another  series  of  inimitable  decorations.  The  perfect  laws,  and  plans, 
and  types,  of  all  this  beauty,  are  in  his  mind.  They  have  been  evermoi-e. 
To  please  himself,  all  these  are  thus  created  and  continued.  The  infinite, 
ever-new  artist  is  he ;  making  the  visible  worlds  his  canvas,  the  physical 
forces  and  laws  of  nature  his  swift,  far-flashing,  yet  silent  pencils  ;  working 
in  secret,  as  well  as  in  public,  his  marvelous  effects  ;  making  all  nature 
overflow  with  beauty,  because  his  own  spirit  exuberates  with  it.  And 
when  we  come  to  even  a  true  perception  of  him,  much  more  when  we 
come  into  actual  personal  sympathy  and  confei'ence  with  his  illustrious 
and  ladiant  mind — when  we  feel  that  he  loves  us,  that '  his  secret'  is  with 
us,  and  that  we  in  all  our  inmost  tastes  are  becoming  through  grace 
assimilated  to  him — there  is  in  that  a  gain  and  an  ecstasy  which  the  world 
can  not  parallel ;  for  moi'e  than  which  the  soul  wants  room !  Let  it  be 
amid  nature,  where  sunniest  scenes  reflect  his  thought,  or  cloven  chasms 
attest  his  power ;  let  it  be  through  the  Scriptures,  where  prophets  and 
apostles  bear  on  through  time  his  great  evangel;  let  it  be  in  the  church, 
where  the  hearts  of  the  worshipers  rise  to  meet  him  ;  let  it  be  in  the 
closet,  where  one  eager  soul  pleads  with  him  amid  the  solemnities  of 
prayer  ;  wherever  it  is,  we  can  not  but  feel,  if  we  are  thoughtful,  we 
can  not  but  knoio,  if  we  ever  have  felt  it,  there  is  boundless  delight 
and  elevation  in  the  act ! 

11.  l)ut,  in  the  second  place,  to  look  at  the  same  theme  from  another 
point  of  view,  remember  how  infinite  in  all  intellectual  faculty  and 
force  the  mind  of  God  is  y  what  immeasurable  capacities  of  reason,  of 
thought,  and  of  judgment  are  in  him  ; — and  the  greatness  of  the  privilege 
of  communion  with  him  will  become  further  e^•ident :  evident,  as  I  said 


404  RICHARD     S.    STORRS,    JUN. 

before,  not  to  the  Christian  alone,  who  needs  in  fact  no  such  demon- 
stration,  but  to  all  men  who  are  reflective  ;  evident  to  the  jihilosopher. 

It  is  a  strange  and  startling  thought,  but  it  is  also  a  just  thought,  to 
connect  with  eloquence,  with  poetry,  with  art,  science,  statesmanship, 
literature,  that  all  the  jjowers  revealed  in  these  are  found  forever,  in 
their  perfect  original,  and  in  infinite  development,  in  the  mind  of  the 
Most  High  !  All  are,  in  fact,  but  partial  representatives  of  his  supreme 
faculty  ;  the  drops  from  his  fullness,  the  splintered  rays  from  his  consum- 
mate glory.  The  most  majestic  oration,  compact  with  logic,  opulent 
Avith  learnhig,  commanding  as  a  product  of  the  highest  reason,  per- 
suasive as  full  of  the  quie-kest  sympathies,  urgent  with  an  energy  that* 
electrifies  the  "svill — the  mind  of  God  holds  all  the  forces  that  are  uttered 
in  that,  in  a  perfectly  harmonious  and  unlimited  development.  That 
quick  and  amazing  poetic  gift,  which  makes  a  man  master  not  of  reason 
alone,  and  of  fancy,  and  feeling,  of  the  changes  of  character,  or  the  aspects 
of  nature,  but  also  of  all  the  cadences  of  speech  which  can  with  airiest 
grace  express  these — that  gift  which  the  world  most  admires  and  lauds, 
as  the  highest  in  its  compass,  the  very  Regium  Donum  of  the  Creator — 
it  is  nothing  unwonted,  remarkable,  remember,  to  the  thoughts  of  the 
Creator !  It  does  not  stand  unprophesied  in  him.  But,  rather,  his  mind 
is  pervaded  forever  with  that  same  vivid  and  intuitive  spirit,  of  vision  and 
of  song,  a  touch  of  whose  glory  is  shown  in  the  poet.  God's  works  are 
thus,  in  all  their  round,  divinest  poems.  They  have  the  grace  of  music 
on  them.  They  are  marshaled  in  a  rhythm  which  the  seraphim  adore. 
Even  the  austere  mechanical  calculation  which  interprets  their  motions, 
b(^comes  musical  as  it  does  it.  Its  equations  are  melodies,  their  series  a 
sonata ;  for  every  planet  is  a  note,  and  every  system  is  a  stanza,  of  a  uni- 
verse which  moves  in  harmonious  procession.  And  when  we  rise,  deliv- 
ered from  the  body,  to  the  finer  sensibility,  and  the  far  grander  sweep  of 
faculty  and  of  insight,  to  be  gained  in  the  future,  it  shall  be  ours  to  catch 
that  music  ;  to  hear  unrolled,  in  infinite  chorus,  amid  the  tuneful,  aerial 
realms,  that  mighty  anthem !  Even  history  itself,  discordant  as  it  seems, 
has  yet  a  rhythm,  a  chiming  order,  beneath  its  movement.  Playful, 
tragic,  pathetic,  terrible,  all  encompassing  as  the  atmosphere,  and  change- 
ful as  the  winds,  it  still  infolds  a  mystic  harmony,  and  moves  to  pre- 
determined ends,  beneath  the  eternal  providence  of  God.  And,  by-and- 
by,  the  dissonant  prelude,  the  long  and  clashing  preparatory  strains, 
shall  strike,  with  intermingling  motion,  into  the  full  and  glorious  sym- 
phony ! 

We  put  God  far  from  us,  too  often,  by  conceiving  of  him  as  essentially 
dissevered  and  abstracted  from  all  that  we  know  ;  a  kind  of  impersonal 
Law  of  being,  rather  than  himself  an  actual  Being,  hving  all  around  us, 
and  imaged  on  our  minds.  We  ought  to  think  of  him  more  justly  ;  to 
feel  that  even  the  greatest  among  men  do  but  indicate  one  side  of  his 
continual  and  unspeakable  greatness ;  and  that  all  the  original  spiritual 


TEE    PRIVILEGE     OP    COMMUNION    WITH     GOD.        495 

faculties  which  are  resident  in  them,  exist  iu  eternal  concord  in  him,  and 
in  perfect  deveIo}Dment.  The  poetic  temperament,  as  we  popularly  style 
it,  is  therefore  infinite  in  his  soul ;  and  to  those  who  stand  nearest  him,  it 
IS  never  unapparent.  His  is  that  absolute  mental  force  of  which  genius 
Itself  gives  us  only  a  hint.  His  reason,  his  judgment,  transcend  our  own, 
as  his  creative  power  transcends  what  in  us  is  merely  constructive  ;  as  his 
omnipresence  transcends  our  limited  and  local  personality. 

It  is  always  found,  in  accordance  with  this  fact,  that  they  who  ascend 
to  most  high  and  intimate  communion  with  his  mind,  who  receive  of 
his  thought  to  impart  it  unto  others,  to  whom  his  inmost  purposes  are 
unfolded — they  bring  back  from  that  intercourse,  not  truths  alone  above 
the  level  of  human  wisdom,  not  maxims  alone  that  contain  the  whole 
secret  and  mystery  of  life,  but  even  a  beauty  and  majesty  of  style  un- 
equaled  on  earth,  because  derived  from  its  Maker.  The  simply  lyrical 
value  of  the  Psalms  is  thus  unspeakable ;  confessedly,  the  noblest  poetry 
of  time  were  lost  in  their  destruction.  So  Isaiah,  Daniel,  or  earlier 
Closes,  so  John  the  Revelator,  and  Paul  the  great  teacher  and  defender 
of  doctrine,  each  shoAvs  in  his  writings  the  impress  of  that  incompar- 
able energy  which  is  darkly  expressed  in  our  word  Inspiration.  The 
liuite  mind  partook,  for  the  time,  of  the  height  and  the  scope  of  the 
mind  of  the  Eternal.  It  was  kindled,  as  the  cloud  is  when  the  ^sun 
pours  an  effluence  fi-om  his  glory  upon  it.  And  the  words  of  these  men 
never  cease  to  be  '  winged,'  never  cease  to  have  power,  because  they 
had  so  high  a  teaching. 

It  is  when  we  thus  look  at  the  works  of  man's  mind,  and  consider 
their  fountain  and  foundation  in  God's  mind,  that  their  greatness  is  re- 
vealed to  us,  and  that  his  mind  is  disclosed  ;  and  then,  it  seems  to  me, 
that  the  privilege  and  the  joy  of  communion  with  him  can  not  but  be 
manifest.  It  is  true,  not  only  of  eloquence  or  of  poetry,  but  of  all  high- 
est art,  that  its  source  is  in  that  selt-sustaining  Intelligence  from  which 
all  others  do  proceed.  It  also  brings  its  witness,  therefore,  often  uncon- 
scious but  ahvays  real,  to  him  who  saw  it  before  it  Avas.  The  Gothic 
cathedral,  with  its  decorated  and  airy  solidity  of  proportion,  rising  like 
a  rocky  oratorio  toward  the  skies — it  is  not  only  a  place  for  the  worship 
of  the  Highest,  it  is  itself  an  anthem  to  his  praise  ;  demonstrating,  as  it 
does,  the  capacities  of  a  mind  which  his  eternal  mind  has  created,  and 
has  stocked  with  all  its  splendid  capacities.  We  reverence  him  whose 
intellect  shapes  and  builds  the  cathedral,  conceiving  the  plan,  and  thee 
making  the  solid  quarry  plastic,  till  pillars  and  ai^hes,  statues  and  finials, 
completing  that  plan,  are  erected  before  us.  How  mucli  more  shall  we 
reverence  the  eternal  intelligence  from  Avhich  this  is  thrown  as  a  spark 
from  the  sun,  and  which  is  full,  by  perpetual  intuition,  of  all  the  ideas 
that  aie  intimated  in  this !  The  whole  progress  of  man,  in  each  one  of 
the  departments  of  his  mental  endeavor,  still  carries  us  back  in  the  same 
way  to  God,  and  ilhistrates  his  glory.     The  grandest  discoveries,  argu- 


496  RICHARD     S.    STORRS,    JUN. 

ments,  imaginations,  that  have  signalized  histcny,  and  have  marked  its 
advancement — have  equally  had  their  original  in  God,  and  have  sprung 
fi'ora  a  force  which  was  less  to  his  than  the  atom  to  tlie  orb.  He  anti- 
cipated them  all  before  they  were  ;  and  all  that  they  have  ever  accom- 
plished has  been  to  interpret  into  action  and  history  what  he  fore- 
saw. 

He  even  makes  beings  of  a  higher  range  of  nature  and  power  than 
we  possess ;  raising  rank  above  rank,  and  order  upon  order,  in  the 
heavenly  hierarchies;  and  still  they  do  not  comprehend  or  approach  him. 
They  do  but  represent,  at  another  remove,  the  same  inexhaustible  and 
infinite  forces  of  which  we  equally  bear  the  impress,  I^o  other  mind 
than  the  mind  of  himself  can  do  any  thing  more  than  reflect  its  grandeur ; 
as  the  spring,  in  its  emerald  cup  among  the  hills,  reveals  by  reflection 
the  infinite  cope  !  Whatever  the  centuries  of  history  shall  gathei-,  of 
science  or  of  song,  of  philosophy  or  of  art ;  whatever  the  centuries  of 
the  future  shall  bring,  of  angelic  achievement  and  celestial  acquisition  ; 
it  shall  still  remain  true  that  all  these  were  present  to  the  thoughts  of  God 
before  creation  had  commenced  ;  that  every  subordinate  intellectual  force 
which  exists  in  the  universe  has  sprung  from  him,  and  but  partially 
represents  him ;  that  his  supreme  and  eternal  intelligence,  as  personal  as 
ours  although  so  vast,  includes  all  elements  of  majesty  and  of  grace 
that  are  prophesied  among  men,  and  never  can  be  searched  out  unto  per- 
fection. Its  memory  is  omniscience,  and  prescience  is  its  logic.  Its 
plan  includes  the  scope  of  history.  Its  thoughts  compact  and  guide 
creation.  The  final  histoiy  of  the  universe  itself  shaU  never  fully  fihow 
its  greatness ! 

O,  then,  if  it  be  to  us  a  j^rivilege  and  an  honor  which  we  eagerly 
seek  and  cease  not  to  prize,  to  have  a  free  and  intelligent  conference 
with  another  human  soul,  by  culture  or  by  power  removed  from  our 
level — if  he  who  has  talked  with  the  statesman  in  his  home  remembers 
that  hour,  and  writes  in  his  journal  the  words  he  heard  ;  if  he  who  has 
entered  into  sympathy  with  the  poet  amid  nature  or  over  books,  remem- 
bers that  passage  in  his  mental  experience  as  something  high  and  almost 
sacred,  and  feels  his  thoughts  still  sing  in  the  recital — how  much  more 
must  he — I  put  it  to  your  reason  to  give  the  answer ! — how  much  more 
must  he  who  has  had  intelligent  converse  with  GOD  exult  in  that  ex- 
l)eriencc,  and  refer  to  it  with  delight,  and  seek  ever  to  repeat  it !  As 
a  means,  merely,  of  intellectual  illumination  and  of  mental  advancement, 
how  grand  it  is !  The  <truth  is,  the  simplest  philosophy  must  perceive 
this.  It  is  not  religion,  merely,  it  is  reason  which  affirms  it.  The  mo- 
ment Ave  think  of  the  Infinite  as  we  ought,  as  a  personal  being,  of  per- 
fectly unbounded  intellectual  capacity,  poetic,  discursive,  of  an  absolute 
tastefulncss,  and  an  infinite  reason — that  moment  we  can  not  but  say  with 
the  Psalmist,  if  we  are  really  reflective  beings :  "  As  for  me,  I  will  be- 
hold Thy  face  in  righteousness !  I  sh.i.ll  be  satisfied,  when  I  av;ake,  witli 


THE    PRIVILEGE     OF     COilMUNION     WITH     GOD.        497 

Thy  likeness  !"     The  utmost  reach  of  worldly  success,  is  literally  '  noth- 
ing' and  '  vanity,'  to  this  ! 

III.  But,  now,  in  the  third  place,  to  set  the  same  truth  in  still  another 
light,  rem.einhci'  hoio  vijiniteli/  generoiis  cmd  pure  are  the  afftctioiis  of 
God;  what  an  exquisite  freedom  from  all  selfishness  marks  him;  what 
supreme  moral  beauty  is  expressed  in  his  character.  This  ought  to 
inspire  us  to  communion  with  liim.  May  its  proper  attractions  aflect 
our  hearts ! 

We  talk  of  a  Disinterested  Benevolence  ;  which  is  not  regardless  of 
diversities  of  character,  which  does  not  imply  sympathetic  attachment 
to  every  heing,  yet  which  reaches  to  all,  and  would  make  all  happy; 
happy  in  true  development  and  culture,  happy  in  right  and  benign  ac- 
tivities. We  celebrate  this  in  our  poetry  and  our  ethics,  and  easily 
accept  it  as  the  highest  rule  of  conduct ;  as  expressing,  when  realized, 
the  utmost  beauty  of  character.  We  love  those  who  show  an  approxi- 
mation to  this,  with  an  affection  too  pure  to  be  a  passion,  yet  too  deep 
to  be  uttei'ed  m  any  thing  less  than  the  devotion  of  our  life.  The  con- 
science of  the  world  instinctively  reveres  it.  The  heart  of  the  world, 
with  a  Avelcome  that  widens  every  century,  installs  in  its  most  honored 
place  the  men  and  the  women  who  have  clearly  displayed  this. 

Yet  how  far  do  we  tall  from  this  moral  idea  !  How  constantly  are  we 
conscious  that  selfishness  is  aflecting  us;  that  prejudices,  partialities, 
partizanships,  prides,  either  personal  jealousies,  or  hereditary  animosi- 
ties, are  dividing  us  from  men  ;  that  we  love  some  excessively,  and 
others  insufiiciently,  and  are  actuated  toward  some  only  by  the  spirit  of 
aversion  or  contempt.  It  is  not  in  our  hearts,  it  is  not  among  men,  it  is 
not  till  we  reach  the  heart  of  the  Most  High,  that  we  find  this  ultimate 
sj)iritual  law  completely  realized.  But  in  God  it  constitues  eternally, 
))erfectly,  the  element  of  his  character  and  the  principle  of  his  action. 

Consider  with  what  prodigality  of  kindness  he  has  scattered  his  mer- 
cies all  over  the  earth ;  withholding  true  haj^piness  only  from  the  selfish, 
and  from  them  as  a  measure  of  paternal  admonition.  Consider  how 
cunstantly  each  one  of  his  creatures  is  under  his  care  ;  the  insect,  not 
less  than  the  seraphim  in  his  courts ;  the  animated  particle  that  palpi- 
tates in  the  water-drop,  as  truly  as  the  student  whose  microscope  dis- 
covers it,  and  whose  science  examines  it !  To  be  kind  to  our  enemies, 
is  a  measure  of  generosity  above  the  thought  of  human  ethics.  Until 
Cin-ist  announced  this  as  his  divine  rule,  the  world  in  its  wisdom  only 
knew  it  as  a  paradox.  Yet  God  not  only  requires  this  in  his  word,  he 
illustrates  it  in  his  daily  conduct  and  providence.  He  makes  those  who 
hate  him  as  happy  as  they  can  be  consistently  with  that  hatred.  He 
|jours  throughout  their  veins  the  currents  of  their  life.  He  guards  their 
frames,  their  families,  from  death.  He  gives  them  aU  the  charm  and 
wealth  of  the  creation  to  enjoy.      Spring-time  and  harvest  come  to 

32 


493  EICIIARD    S.    STORES,    JUN. 

tliem,  the  morning  light,  the  dewy  eve,  with  just  as  sure  and  prompt  a 
blessing  as  if  their  every  act  were  praise.  He  puts  success  in  the  world 
Avithin  their  reach.  And  his  generous  mercy  never  tarries  or  is  stinted^ 
till  their  departure  from  earth  is  reached.  He  frames  us  for  happiness ; 
and  the  subtle  absorbents  and  secret  dticts  of  that  constitution  through 
which  the  plant  inhales  its  life,  and  gathers  its  charm  of  color  or  of 
perfume,  are  not  more  real  or  more  intentional  than  the  delicate  adapta- 
tions of  our  nature  to  enjoyment.  And  this  essential  constitution  is 
continued,  by  the  power  of  the  Creator,  in  those  who  toward  him  are 
most  opposed.  Literally,  through  eye  and  eai",  through  touch  and  taste, 
at  every  inlet,  by  every  sense,  he  loadeth  them  with  benefits  i 

Meantime,  the  most  ardent  attachment  to  his  Friends  is  not  only  con- 
sistent and  harmonious  with  this,  it  is  actually  united  with  it  in  the 
heart  of  God  daily.  This  is  no  theoretic  and  impersonal  love,  a  mere 
sentiment  of  complacence,  or  a  forensic  approval.  It  is  a  fervid  and  cor- 
dial affection ;  as  true  and  tender  toward  every  one  as  if  there  Avere  but 
that  one  object  of  it  anywhere  in  being  ;  an  affection  that  involves 
the  warmest  approbation  and  an  infinite  sympathy. — ^The  most  heroic  self- 
sacrifice,  too,  which  is  ever  seen  among  men,  as  it  hath  its  original  and 
its  fountain  in  God,  so  it  has  had  in  him  its  most  august  and  moving  ex- 
ample. It  is  this  which  gives  to  the  Cross  one  great  meaning ;  to  the 
•whole  transcendent  work  of  Christ  a  part  of  its  sublimest  efficacy.  It 
was  a  self-sacrifice,  in  comparison  of  whose  melting  and  wondrous  glory 
all  the  instances  of  devotion  illustrious  in  man's  annals  fade  into  com- 
plete dimness !  Down  all  the  steps  of  that  ladder  of  descent  which  the 
apostle  has  outlined,  when  he  speaks  of  him  who  was  equal  with  the 
Father,  taking  on  him  the  nature,  not  of  angels,  but  of  man  ;  descending 
to  the  earth  ;  and  not  to  the  earth  only,  but  to  poverty  in  it ;  and  not  to 
poverty  only,  but  to  shame,  and  to  death  ;  and  even  to  the  death  of  the 
criminal  on  the  cross ; — down  all  these  steps,  at  which  angels  are  amazed, 
we  count  the  footfalls  of  a  perfect  benevolence  !  A  tenderness  toward 
the  meanest  and  guiltiest  was  there  shoAvn  ;  toward  the  Jew  who  reviled, 
and  the  soldier  who  pierced,  the  mysterious  Sufferer ;  yet  a  tenderness 
united  with  an  absolute  holiness,  which  instantly  attracts,  as  we  medi- 
tate upon  it,  the  glad  acclaim  of  each  pure  sensibihty.  There  was  man- 
ifest on  the  cross,  the  sinfulness  of  man  ;  the  rightful  and  constant  demand 
of  God's  government ;  the  perfect  authority  of  moral  rectitude.  The 
glories  of  heaven,  the  terrors  of  hell,  the  fearfulness  of  judgment,  all  were 
indicated  there.  But,  chiefest  of  all,  was  manifest  there  the  heart  of  God  ! 
That  side  was  bared  to  the  Roman  spear,  that  man  might  look  in  and 
see  the  heart  which  wielded  the  power  that  made  the  waves  as  marble 
to  the  tread,  that  stayed  the  winds  as  they  swept  over  GaUlee,  that 
loosed,  at  a  word,  the  stern,  and  stubborn  grapple  of  the  grave  !  And 
all  that  heart  was  full  of  Love  !  As  an  instance  of  stupendous  selt- 
iemal  and  self-sacrifice,  the  angels  adore  and  praise  before  this.     Some 


THE    PRIVILEGE    OF     COMMUNION     WITH    TrOP        499 

hearts  are  now  touched,  the  world  shall  be  filled,  -with  its  renvating 
influence ! 

In  a  word,  it  must  be  said  that  so  far  as  God  transcends  ii^  in  his 
mental  perfections,  in  the  thoughts  and  the  images  of  beauty  which  are 
his,  in  the  faculties  he  possesses,  the  originals  of  ours,  so  far  he  surpasses 
us  in  his  supreme  character.  With  the  energy  of  omnipotence  lodged 
in  his  will,  he  is  never  unjust,  ambitious,  or  severe.  With  all  the 
Avorlds  obedient  to  his  word,  he  presides  above  their  forces  and  destinies 
with  a  spotless  benevolence  which  irradiates  heaven.  The  light  is  not 
jjurer  than  is  his  spirit,  or  its  seven-fold  beauty  more  complete.  We 
can  think  of  nothing  lovely  in  the  tenderest  sensibiUty,  but  hi  him  it  is 
perfected.  We  can  think  of  nothing  high,  heroic,  generous,  but  in  him 
it  hath  an  unbounded  development ;  making  the  heavens  its  luminous 
witnesses,  decking  the  earth  vnth  its  innumerable  insignia,  blazing  forth 
as  a  theophany  from  the  cross  upon  Calvary.  Whatsoever  is  delicate, 
kind,  forgiving ;  whatsoever  is  just,  equitable,  pure ;  whatsoever  is  af- 
fectionate, magnanimous,  self-devoted,  seeking  even  the  good  of  the 
evil  and  the  unthankful,  at  the  cost  of  a  vast  and  unspeakable  saci'ifice ; 
— all  this  is  apparent,  in  complete  exhibition,  in  the  most  amazing  and 
transcendent  exhibition,  in  the  character  of  the  Almighty !  Almighty 
he  is ;  but  his  power  is  no  greater  than  his  infinite  purity ;  his  boundless 
knowledge  outruns  by  no  one  smallest  step  his  unhmited  generosity  ! 

Consider  then,  again,  my  friends,  from  this  closing  point — consider,  I 
beseech  you,  with  candid,  attentive,  and  reverent  minds — how  grand  ? 
privilege,  this  of  the  righteous,  to  have  conference  with  God !  a  confer 
ence  that  shall  admit  us  to  the  secrets  of  his  soul !  a  conference  that 
shall  make  us  in  character  like  himself!  Indeed  it  is  beyond  all  othei 
joys  and  gains,  above  all  other  highest  attainments!  It  is  the  marvel 
of  our  nature  that  we  are  capable  of  it !  You  tell  me  of  the  aits  that 
have  embellished  states,  of  the  literatures  that  have  enriched  them,  or 
the  illustrious  statesmanships  that  have  fortified  or  have  freed  them; 
but  these  are  not  the  demonstration  of  man's  power.  That  is,  that  he 
may  have  conference  with  God,  and  ascend  to  communion  with  the 
Eternal  Intelligence.  It  is  the  miracle  of  God's  grace,  too,  that  he 
permits,  that  he  even  personally  invites  and  assists  us,  continually  to  seek 
this !  The  man  who  does  not,  is  renouncing  his  birth-right,  and  dis- 
honoring God's  grace.  The  man  who  does  not,  prepares  himself  for  ex-  ■ 
elusion  from  all  that  can  make  immortality  precious !  But  he  who  seeks 
and  Avho  reaches  this  end,  gains  peace,  elevation,  an  inward  purity,  a  noble 
supremacy  over  fortune  and  time,  an  inheritance  in  heaven  !  Though 
the  body  be  dissolved,  his  spirit  shall  abide,  in  glory  and  in  peace ! 
Though  the  world  pass  away,  with  noise  and  fire,  he  can  not  be  shaken 
from  his  serene  joy  !  lie  is  God's  own  son,  a  partaker  of  his  life,  and  a 
Prince  in  the  Universe ! 

My  friends,  what  can  I  further  say  to  impress  this  upon  you  ?    to 


500  RICHARD    S.    STORRS,    JUN. 

urge  you  to  seek  this  inestimable  good ;  so  near  us  every  hour,  if  we  will 
take  it ;  so  precious  to  all ;  so  precious  above  all,  to  the  thoughtful  and 
sensitive !  Remember  that  the  Scrij^tures  are  given,  in  great  part,  to 
aid  and  to  win  ixs  to  this  communion ;  that  nature  herself  gives  impulses 
to  it,  each  hill-side  pointing  to  him  who  raised  and  crowned  its  pillars, 
and  every  valley  inviting  vis  to  pause  and  meditate  upon  him  whose  hand 
has  scooped  its  verdurous  round!  Remember  that  Christ  came  to 
manifest  God,  and  so  to  bring  to  our  souls  this  good !  that  the  Spirit  of 
Inspiration  still  accompanies  the  gospel,  to  make  it  all  Hving  and  lumin- 
ous to  the  soul,  God's  ever-present  word  of  life  !  Remember  that  the 
soul  has  itself  been  so  formed  that  it  never  truly  and  fully  can  rest, 
in  the  depths  of  its  being,  until  it  gains  this  highest  good  ;  that  prayer 
and  intelligent  obedience  are  its  conditions ;  and  that  heaven  itself,  with 
the  Beatific  Vision,  is  prophesied  and  actually  commenced  in  its  exper 
ence!  And  then  look  out  ixpon  the  frame  of  nature,  so  beauteous  and  so 
solid,  so  warm  with  light,  and  soft  with  showers ;  look  up  to  Him  who 
made  it  all ; — look  back  through  the  Scriptures,  where  psalmists  have 
sung,  and  priests  have  ministered,  and  prophets  and  apostles  have  wit- 
nessed for  Him : — and  say  if  your  language  shall  not  be  that  of  the  lyrist 
of  old  :  '  Other  men  have  their  good  in  the  outward  and  the  temporal; 
I  will  seek  mine  in  the  spiritual.  They  have  houses  and  lands,  and  happy 
homes,  and  wide  connections,  and  their  children  come  after  them,  and 
prolong  their  prosperity ;  but  "  as  for  me,  I  will  behold  Thy  face  in  right- 
eousness !"  I  will  seek  to  see  Thee  ;  to  have  conference  with  Thee  ;  and 
to  share  the  exaltation  and  the  peace  of  Thy  children !  And  I  shall  be 
satisfied,  whenever  I  awake,  with  Thy  likeness  !  Forever,  and  perfectly, 
shall  I  be  satisfied  in  Heaven.' 

This  is  true  philosophy,  as  well  as  religion.  The  soul  affirms  it,  while 
the  Scriptures  reveal  it.  That  Day,  swift-coming  through  the  future, 
when  probation  is  closed,  and  destiny  begins,  shall  set  it  shhiing  and 
high  before  us !  God  grant  us  grace  to  learn  it  now,  and  now  to  apply  it ; 
to  seek  communion  with  him  on  earth,  upon  these  heights  which  he 
hath  reared,  through  all  these  days  whose  opening  and  whose  close 
alike  declare  him,  especially  in  the  church  in  which  he  shows  most  per- 
fectly his  grace,  until  we  see  him,  face  to  face,  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
of  the  water  of  life,  amid  that  Day  which  knows  no  setting,  within  that 
Temple  whose  base  is  his  eternity,  whose  pillars  are  his  powers,  and, 
whose  illuminating  light  is  his  immaculate  Spirit  of  Love  !  In  that 
awakening — the  fruit  of  .Redemption,  the  trophy  of  the  Gospel,  the 
PRIVILEGE  OF  THE  RiGHTEOus — shall  cvcry  wish  at  last  be  satisfied ! 
God  bring  us  to  it,  in  His  great  grace,  in  His  good  time !  and  unto  Him 
be  all  the  praise ! 


€\t   ingltslj   fiilpit» 


yp1:'^^A-^-<^^^.-^ 


DISCOURSE    XXXVI. 

HENRY    MELVILI.,    B.D. 

The  "golden-mouthed  Melvill,"  as  he  has  often  been  called,  was  b'/rn  at  Pen- 
deunis  Castle,  Cornwall,  on  the  14th  of  September,  1798 ;  so  that  he  has  now  well- 
nigh  reached  the  "  three-scor6"  of  human  life.  His  father,  Philip  Melvill.  was  a 
captain  in  the  army,  and  lieutenant-governor  of  Pendennis  Castle — a  very  pious 
man,  whose  memoirs  have  had  a  wide  circulation.  "  The  prayers  and  instructions 
of  a  righteous  father  and  mother,"  as  he  states,  were  the  means  of  his  conversion. 

He  was  educated  at  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  took  the  degree  of  Second 
Wrangler  in  1821.  In  the  year  1824,  he  was  ordained  as  Fellow  of  St.  Peter'a 
•College,  Cambridge.  From  the  year  1829  to  1843,  he  was  minister  of  Camden 
Chapel,  Camberwell.  He  was  then  made  Principal  of  the  East  India  College,  and 
in  1846  appointed,  by  the  Duke  of  "Wellington,  Chaplain  to  the  Tower  of  London. 
In  1853  he  was  made  one  of  the  Queen's  Chaplains,  and  in  1856  appointed,  by 
Lord  Palraerston,  Canon  Residentiary  of  St.  Paul's,  London. 

The  personal  appearance  of  Mr.  MelviU  is  described  as  not  remarkably  striking. 
His  features  are  easily  detected  from  the  accompanying  portrait,  recently  taken,  and 
forwarded  at  our  request  by  the  distinguished  preacher  himself.  His  face  is  small 
and  thin,  forehead  high,  and  topped  with  abundant  hair ;  eyes  keen  and  small,  ami 
in  color  light  blue ,  comjilexion  of  a  darkish  hue,  and  countenance  expressive  of 
vivacity  and  high  intelligence.  The  voice  of  the  preacher  is  said  to  be  not  peculiar 
for  strength  or  compass,  but  for  its  capacity  of  ever-varying  modulations — now  Uke 
the  sobbing  of  winds  among  the  boughs  of  the  trees — now  Hke  the  trembling  in 
tonations  surging  along  the  air ;  and  now  like  the  swell  of  the  trumpet,  rolling,  sub- 
duing, melting,  appalling.  There  is  much  earnestness  of  manner  in  his  preaching, 
but  his  gesticulation  is  sparing,  and  seldom  or  never  violent. 

Mr.  Melvill's  sermons  are  always  prepared  with  the  utmost  care.  Shutting  the 
door  of  his  study,  and  refusing  to  be  seen,  except  at  particular  hours ;  compelled  to 
preach  but  one  sermon,  where  most  ministers  preach  three ;  seldom  visiting  his 
people,  except  in  cases  of  sickness,  he  has  no  lack  of  opportunity  to  indulge  a  fas- 
tidious taste  in  the  patient  elaboration  of  his  discourses.  It  is  said  that  he  always 
writes  them  twice,  and  often  thrice ;  after  which,  they  are  copied  off  neatly  by 
another  hand,  when  they  are  prepared  to  be  read  from  the  pulpit. 

Discourses  thus  prepared,  could  not  but  possess  rare  excellences.  As  sermons, 
they  are  defective,  we  should  say,  in  simplicity  and  directness  of  style,  especially  in 
close  and  pungent  appeals  to  the  conscience.  But,  as  specimens  of  beauty  and 
finish  in  composition,  they  are  not  often  excelled.  The  preacher's  eloquence  seems 
"X)0  artificial,  and  his  matter  is  often  too  speculative  and  abstruse ;    but  his  phrase- 


5()-i  HENRY    MELVILL, 

ology  is  figurative  and  richly  ornate;  his  analogies  exceedingly  happy;  his  ar- 
rangement (though  not  sufficiently  marked)  natural  and  easy ;  his  sentences  are 
nicely  balanced,  and  liis  periods  smoothly  rounded  ;  and  yet,  with  all  their  polish, 
force  is  not  sacrificed ;  and  what  is  better  than  all,  the  scriptural  or  evangelical  ele- 
ment is  not  wanting. 

Mr.  Melvill's  pleasure  has  been  consulted  in  the  choice  of  a  discourse  ;  and  in 
our  opinion  he  has  never  written  one  that  is  abler  than  that  here  given.  He  is  the 
author  of  several  volumes  of  sermons,  which  have  had  a  wide  circulation. 


THE  REPEODUCTIVE  POWER  OF  HUMAN  ACTIONS. 

"  Per  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." — Gal.,  vi.  1. 

You  may  be  all  aware,  that  what  is  termed  the  argument  from  anal- 
ogy, has  been  carried  out  to  great  length  by  thinking  men,  and  that 
much  of  the  strongest  witness  for  Christianity  has  been  won  on  this  field 
of  investigation.  It  is  altogether  a  most  curious  and  profitable  inquiry, 
which  sets  itself  to  the  tracing  out  resemblances  between  natural  and 
spiritual  things,  and  which  thus  proposes  to  establish,  at  the  least,  a 
probability  that  creation  and  Christianity  have  one  and  the  same  author. 
Aud  we  think  that  we  shall  not  overstep  the  limits  of  truth,  if  we  declare 
that  nature  wears  the  appearance  of  having  actually  been  designed  for 
tlie  illustration  of  the  Bible,  We  believe  that  he  who,  with  a  devout 
mind,  seai'ches  most  diligently  into  the  beauties  and  mysteries  of  the 
material  world,  will  find  himself  met  constantly  by  exhibitions,  which 
seem  to  him  the  pages  of  Scripture  written  in  the  stars,  and  the  forests, 
and  the  waters  of  this  creation.  There  is  such  a  sameness  of  dealing, 
characteristic  of  the  natural  and  the  spiritual,  that  the  Bible  may  be 
read  in  the  outspread  of  the  landscape,  and  the  operations  of  agriculture  ; 
while,  conversely,  the  laws  obeyed  by  this  earth  and  its  productions, 
may  be  traced  as  pervading  the  appointments  of  revelation.  It  were 
})eside  our  purpose  to  go  at  length  into  demonstration  of  this  coincidence. 
But  you  may  all  perceive,  assuming  its  existence,  that  the  furnished 
argument  is  clear  and  convincing.  If  there  run  the  same  principle 
through  natural  and  spiritual  things,  through  the  book  of  nature  and 
the  Bible,  we  vindicate  the  same  authorship  to  both,  and  prove,  with  an 
almost  geometric  precision,  that  the  God  of  creation  is  also  the  God  of 
Christianity,  I  look  on  the  natural  firmament,  with  its  glorious  inlay 
of  stars,  and  it  is  unto  me  as  the  breastplate  of  the  great  High-Priest, 
"  ardent  with  gems  oracular,"  from  which,  as  from  theUiim  and  Thummini 
on  Aaron's  ci)hod,  come  messages  full  of  divhiity.  And  when  I  turn  to 
the  page  of  Scripture,  and  perceive  the  nicest  resemblance  between  the 
characters  in  which  this  page  is  written,  and  those  which  glitter  before 


THE    REPRODUCTIVE    ROWER    OF    HUMAN    ACTIOXS.       505 

me  on  the  crowded  concave,  I  feel  tliat,  in  trusting  myself  to  the  decla- 
rations of  the  Bihle,  I  cling  to  him  who  speaks  to  me  from  evei-y  point, 
and  by  every  splendor  of  the  visible  universe — whose  voice  is  in  the 
marchings  of  the  planets,  and  the  rushing  of  whose  melodies  is  in  tlie 
wings  of  the  daylight.  But  though  we  go  not  into  the  general  inquiry, 
we  take  one  great  principle,  the  iDrinciple  of  a  resurrection,  and  we  affirm, 
in  illustration  of  what  has  been  advanced,  that  it  runs  alike  through 
God's  natural  and  spiritual  dealings.  Just  as  God  hath  appointed  that 
man's  body,  after  moldering  away,  shall  come  forth  quickened  and 
renewed,  so  has  he  ordained  that  the  seed,  after  corrupting  in  the 
ground,  shall  yield  a  harvest  of  the  like  kind  with  itself  It  is,  moreover, 
God's  ordinary  course  to  allow  an  apparent  destruction,  as  preparatory, 
or  introductory  to,  complete  success  or  renovation.  He  does  not  permit 
the  springing  up,  i;ntil  there  has  been,  on  human  calculation,  a  thorough 
withei'ing  away.  So  that  the  maxim  might  be  shown  to  hold  univer-. 
sally  good :  "  That  which  thou  so  west  is  not  quickened  except  it  die." 
(1  Cor.,  XV.  36.)  We  may  observe  yet  further,  that,  as  with  the  hus- 
bandman, if  he  sow  the  corn,  he  shaU  reap  the  corn,  and  if  he  sow  the 
weed,  he  shall  reap  the  Aveed  ;  thus  with  myself  as  with  a  responsible 
agent,  if  I  sow  the  corruptible,  I  shall  reap  the  corruptible  ;  and  if  I  sow 
the  imperishable,  I  shall  reap  the  imperishable.  The  seed  reproduces 
itself.  This  is  the  fact,  in  reference  to  spiritual  things,  on  which  we 
would  fasten  your  attention  :  "  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he 
also  reap."  Now  we  are  all,  to  a  certain  extent,  familiar  with  this  prin- 
ciple ;  for  it  is  forced  on  our  notice  by  every-day  occurrences.  We 
observe  that  a  dissolute  and  reckless  youth  is  ordinarily  followed  by  a 
]n-omature  and  miserable  old  age.  We  see  that  honesty  and  industry 
win  commonly  comfort  and  respect ;  and  that,  on  the  contrary,  levity 
and  a  Mant  of  carefulness  produce  pauperism  and  disrepute.  And  yet 
I'urther,  unless  we  go  over  to  the  ranks  of  infideUty,  we  can  not  question 
that  a  course  of  disobedience  to  God  is  earning  man's  eternal  destruc- 
tion ;  Avhile,  through  submission  to  the  revealed  will  of  his  master, 
there  is  secured  admittance  into  a  glorious  heritage.  We  are  thus 
aware  that  there  runs  through  the  Creator's  dealings  with  our  race  the 
principle  of  an  identity,  or  sameness,  between  the  things  which  man 
sows  and  those  which  he  reaps.  But  we  think  it  jjossible  that  we  may 
have  contented  ourselves  with  too  superficial  a  view  of  this  principle ; 
and  tliat,  through  not  searching  into  what  may  be  termed  its  philosophy, 
we  allow  much  that  is  important  to  elude  observation.  The  seed  sown 
in  the  earth  goes  on,  as  it  were,  by  a  sort  of  natural  process,  and  with- 
out direct  interference  from  God,  to  yield  seed  of  the  same  description 
with  itself  And  we  wish  it  well  observed,  whether  there  bo  not  in 
spiritual  things  an  analogy  the  most  perfect  to  what  thus  takes  place  in 
natural.  We  think  that,  upon  a  careful  examination,  you  will  find 
ground-work  of  beli/i'f  that  the  simile  holds  good  in  every  possible  respect ; 


506  HENRY    MELYILL. 

SO  that  what  a  man  sows,  if  left  to  its  own  vegetating  powers,  will  yield, 
naturally,  a  harvest  of  its  own  kind  and  description. 

We  shall  study  to  establish  this  point  in  regard,  first,  to  the  present 
scene  of  probation  ;  and,  secondly,  to  the  future  scene  of  recompense. 

"We  begin  with  the  present  scene  of  probation,  and  will  put  you  in 
possession  of  the  exact  point  to  be  made  out,  by  referring  you  to  the 
instance  of  Pharaoh.  We  know  that  while  God  was  acting  on  the 
Egyptians  by  the  awful  apparatus  of  plague  and  prodigy,  he  is  otlen 
said  to  have  hardened  Pharaoh's  heart,  so  that  the  monai-ch  re- 
fused to  let  Israel  go.  And  it  is  a  great  question  to  decide,  Vt^hether 
God  actually  interfered  to  strengthen  and  confirm  the  obstinacy  of 
Pharaoh,  or  only  left  the  king  to  the  workings  of  his  own  heart,  as 
knowing  that  one  degree  of  unbelief  would  generate  another  and  a 
stancher.  It  seems  to  us  at  variance  with  all  that  is  revealed  of  the 
Creator,  to  suppose  him  urging  on  the  wicked  in  his  wickedness,  or 
bringing  any  engine  to  bear  on  the  ungodly  which  shall  make  them  more 
desperate  in  rebelUon.  God  willeth  not  the  death  of  any  sinner.  And 
though,  after  long  striving  with  an  individual,  after  plying  him  with  the 
various  excitements  which  are  best  calculated  to  stir  a  rational,  and 
agitate  an  immortal  being,  he  may  withdraw  all  the  aids  of  the  Spirit, 
and  so  give  him  over  to  that  worst  of  all  tyrants,  himself,  yet  this,  we 
contend,  must  be  the  extreme  thing  ever  done  by  the  Almighty  to  man 
— the  leaving  him,  but  not  the  constraining  him,  to  do  evil.  And  when, 
therefore,  it  is  said,  that  God  hardened  Pharaoh's  heart,  and  when  the 
expression  is  repeated,  so  as  to  mark  a  continual  and  on-going  harden, 
ing,  we  have  no  other  idea  of  the  meaning  than  that  God,  moved 
by  the  obstinacy  of  Phai-aoh,  withdrew  from  him,  gradually,  aU  the 
restraints  of  his  grace  ;  and  that,  as  these  restraints  were  more  and  more 
removed,  the  heart  of  the  king  was  more  and  more  hardened.  We 
look  upon  the  instance  as  a  precise  illustration  of  the  truth,  that  "  what- 
"  soever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  Pliaraoh  sowed  ob- 
stinacy, and  Pharaoh  reaped  obstinacy.  The  seed  was  put  into  the 
soil ;  and  there  was  no  need,  any  more  than  with  the  grain  of  corn,  that 
God  should  interfere  with  any  new  power.  Nothing  more  was  required 
than  that  the  seed  should  be  left  to  vegetate,  to  act  out  its  own  nature. 
And  though  God,  had  he  pleased,  might  have  coimteracted  this  nature, 
yet,  when  he  resolved  to  give  up  Pharaoh  to  his  unbelief,  he  had  nothing 
to  do  but  to  let  alone  this  nature.  The  seed  of  infidelity,  which  Pharaoh 
had  sown  when  he  rejected  the  first  miracles,  was  left  to  itself  and  to 
its  own  vegetation.  It  sent  up,  accordingly,  a  harvest  of  its  o\\ai  kind-- 
a  harvest  of  infidelity — and  Pharaoh  was  not  to  be  persuaded  by  any  of 
the  subsequent  miracles.  So  that,  when  the  monarch  went  on  from  one 
degree  of  hardness  to  another,  till  at  length,  advancing  through  the  cold 
ranks  of  the  prostrated  first-born,  he  pursued  across  a  blackened  and 
devastated  territory  the  people  for  whose  emancipation  there  had  been 


THE    REPEODUCTIYE    POWER    OF    HUMAN    ACTIONS.       507 

the  visible  making  bare  of  the  arm  of  Omnipotence,  he  was  not  an  in- 
stance— perish  the  thought — of  a  man  compelled  by  his  Maker  to  oflend 
and  be  lost,  but  simply  a  Avitness  to  the  truth  of  the  principle,  that 
"  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

Now,  that  which  took  place  in  the  case  of  this  Egyptian  is,  we  argue, 
precisely  what  occurs  in  regard  generally  to  the  impenitent.  God  de- 
stroys no  man.  Every  man  who  is  destroyed  must  destroy  himself.  When 
a  man  stifles  an  admonition  of  conscience,  he  may  fairly  be  said  to  soav 
the  stiflings  of  conscience.  And  when  conscience  admonishes  him  the 
next  time,  it  will  be  more  feebly  and  faintly.  There  will  be  less  difficulty 
in  overpowering  the  admonition.  And  the  feebleness  of  remonstrance, 
and  the  faculty  of  resistance,  both  increase  in  everj  repetition ;  not  be- 
cause God  interferes  to  make  the  man  callous,  but  because  the  thing 
sown  was  stifling  of  conscience,  and  therefore  the  thing  reaped  is  stifling 
of  conscience.  The  Holy  Spirit  strives  with  every  man.  Conscience  is 
but  the  voice  of  Deity,  heard  above  the  din  of  human  passions.  But 
let  conscience  be  resisted,  and  the  Spirit  is  grieved.  Then,  as  with 
Pharaoh,  there  is  an  abstraction  of  that  influence  by  which  eA'il  is  kept 
under.  And  thus  there  is  a  less  and  less  counteraction  to  the  vegetat- 
ing power  of  the  seed,  and  therefore  a  more  and  more  abundant  uj)- 
springing  of  that  which  was  sown.  So  that,  though  there  must  be  a 
direct  and  mighty  influence  of  Deity  for  the  salvation  of  a  man,  there  is 
no  such  interference  for  his  destruction.  God  must  sow  the  seed  of 
regeneration,  and  enable  man,  according  to  the  j^hraseology  of  the  verse 
succeeding  to  our  text,  to  sow  "  to  the  Spirit."  But  man  sows  for  him- 
self the  seed  of  impenitence,  and  of  himself  "  he  soweth  to  his  flesh," 
and  what  he  sows  he  reaps.  If,  as  he  grows  older,  he  grows  more  con- 
firmed in  his  wickedness  ;  if  warnings  come  upon  him  with  less  and  less  en- 
ergy ;  if  the  solemnities  of  the  judgment  lose  more  and  more  their  power 
of  alarming  him,  and  the  terrors  of  hell  their  power  of  aflVighting  him, 
why,  the  man  is  nothing  else  but  an  exhibition  of  the  thickening  of  the 
harvest  of  which  himself  sowed  the  seed  ;  and  he  puts  forth,  in  this  his 
confirmed  and  settled  impenitence,  a  demonstration,  legible  by  every 
careful  obsen^er,  that  there  needs  no  apparatus  for  the  turning  a  man 
gradually  from  the  clay  to  the  adamant,  over  and  above  the  apparatus 
of  his  own  heart,  left  to  itself  and  let  alone  to  harden.  We  greatly 
desire  that  you  should  rightly  understand  what  the  agency  is  through 
which  the  soul  is  destroyed.  It  is  not  that  God  hath  sent  out  a  decree 
against  a  man  ;  it  is  not  that  he  throws  a  darkness  before  his  eyes 
which  can  not  be  penetrated,  and  a  chillness  into  his  blood  Avhich  can 
not  be  thawed,  and  a  torpor  into  his  limbs  which  can  not  be  overcome, 
harvest-time  bringing  an  abundant  produce  of  what  was  sown  in  the 
seed-time — this,  we  contend,  is  the  sum  total  of  the  mystery.  God 
mterferes  not,  as  it  were,  with  processes  of  nature.  He  opposes  not,  or, 
10  speak  more  correctly,  he  withdraws  gradually  his  opposition  to,  the 


^08 


HENRY    MELYILL. 


vegetation  of  the  seed.  And  this  is  all.  There  is  nothing  more  needed. 
You  resist  a  taotion  of  the  Spirit.  Well,  then,  this  facilitates  further 
resistance.  He  who  has  resisted  once  will  have  less  difficulty  in  resisting 
the  second  time,  and  less  than  that  the  third  time,  and  less  than  that  the 
fourth  time.  So  that  there  comes  a  harvest  of  resistances,  and  all  from 
the  single  grain  of  the  iirst  resistance.  You  indulge  yourself  once  in  a 
known  sin.  Why,  you  will  be  more  easily  overpowered  by  the  second 
temptation,  and  again  more  easily  by  the  third,  and  again  more  easily 
by  the  fourth.  And  what  is  this  but  a  harvest  of  sinful  mdulgences,  and 
all  from  the  one  grain  of  the  first  indulgence  ?  You  omit  some  portion 
of  spiritual  exercises,  of  prayer,  or  of  the  study  of  the  word.  The 
omission  will  grow  upon  you.  You  will  omit  more  to-morrow,  and  more 
the  next  day,  and  still  more  the  next.  And  thus  there  will  be  a  harvest 
of  omissions,  and  all  from  the  solitary  grain  of  the  first  omission.  And 
if,  through  the  germinating  power  of  that  which  man  sows,  he  proceeds 
naturally  from  "  bad  to  worse ;"  if  resistance  produce  resistance,  and 
indulgence  indulgence,  and  omission  omission,  shall  it  be  denied  that 
the  sinner,  throughout  the  whole  history  of  his  experience,  throughout 
his  progress  across  the  waste  of  worldliness,  and  obduracy,  and  impen- 
itence— passing,  as  he  does,  to  successive  stages  of  indifierence  to  God, 
and  fool-hardiness,  and  recklessness — is  nothing  else  but  the  mower  of 
the  fruits  of  his  own  husbandry,  and  thus  witnesses,  with  a  power  which 
outdoes  all  the  power  of  language,  that  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth, 
that  shall  he  also  reap !" 

It  is  in  this  manner  that  we  go  into  what  we  term  the  philosophy  of 
our  text,  when  applied  to  the  present  scene  of  probation.  We  take  the 
seed  in  the  soil.  We  show  you  that  by  a  natural  process,  without  the 
interference  of  God,  and  simply  through  his  ceasing  to  counteract  the 
tendencies,  there  is  produced  a  wide  crop  of  the  same  grain  as  was  sown. 
And  thus,  all  kinds  of  opposition  to  God  propagating  themselves,  he  who 
becomes  wrought  up  into  an  infidel  hardihood,  or  lulled  into  a  sepulchral 
apathy  is  nothmg  but  the  sower  living  on  to  be  the  reaper — the  husband- 
man in  the  successive  stages  of  agriculture,  wherein  the  plowing,  and  the 
planting,  and  the  gathering,  are  all  his  own  achievements,  and  all  his 
own  destruction.  Now,  we  have  confined  ourselves  to  the  supposition, 
that  the  thing  sown  is  wickedness.  But  you  will  see  at  once,  that,  with 
a  mere  verbal  alteration,  whatever  has  been  advanced  illustrates  our  text 
when  the  thing  sown  is  righteousness.  If  a  man  resist  temptation,  there 
will  be  a  facility  of  resisting,  ever  augmenting  as  he  goes  on  with  selt- 
denial.  Every  new  achievement  of  principle  will  smooth  the  way  to 
future  achievements  of  the  like  kind  ;  and  the  fruits  of  each  moral  vic- 
tory— for  we  may  consider  the  victory  as  a  seed  that  is  sown — is  to  place 
us  on  loftier  vantage-ground  for  the  triumphs  of  righteousness  in  days  to 
come  We  can  not  perform  a  virtuous  act  without  gaining  fresh  sinew  for 
the  service  of  virtue ;  just  as  we  can  not  perform  a  vicious,  without  riveting 


THE    REPRODUCTIVE    POWER    OF    HUMAN    ACTIONS.     50<Ji 

faster  to  ourselves  the  fetters  of  vice.  And,  assuredly,  if  there  be  thus 
such  a  growing  strength  in  habit,  that  every  action  makes  way  for  its  re- 
petition, we  may  declare  of  virtue  and  righteousness,  that  they  reproduce 
themselves  ;  and  is  not  this  the  same  thing  as  proving,  that  what  we  sow, 
that  also  do  we  reap  ?  "We  would  yet  further  remark,  under  this  head 
of  discourse,  that  the  principle  of  reaping  what  we  sow,  is  specially  to  be 
traced  through  all  the  workings  of  })hilanthropy. 

We  are  persuaded  that,  if  an  eminently  charitable  man  experienced 
great  reverse  of  circumstances,  so  that  from  having  been  the  affluent  and 
the  benefactor,  he  became  the  needy  and  the  dependent,  he  Avould  at- 
tract toward  himself  in  his  distress,  all  the  sympathies  of  a  neighborhood. 
And  while  the  great  man,  who  had  had  nothing  but  his  greatness  to  rec- 
ommend him,  would  be  unpiticd  or  uncared  for,  in  disaster;  and  the 
avaricious  man  who  had  grasped  tightly  his  wealth,  would  merit  only 
ridicule  when  it  had  escaped  from  his  hold ;  the  philanthropic  man,  who 
had  used  his  riches  as  a  steward,  would  form  in  his  penury  a  sort  of  focus 
for  the  kindliness  of  a  thousand  hearts;  and  multitudes  would  press  for- 
ward to  tender  him  the  succor  which  he  had  once  given  to  others  ;  and 
thus  there  would  be  a  mighty  reajDing  into  his  own  granaries  of  that  very 
seed  which  he  had  been  assiduous  in  sowing. 

"We  go  on  to  observe,  that  it  is  the  marvelous  property  of  spiritual 
things — though  we  can  scarcely  affirm  it  of  natural — that  the  effort  to 
teach  them  to  others,  gives  enlargement  to  our  own  sphere  of  information. 
"We  are  persuaded  that  the  most  experienced  Christian  can  not  sit  down 
with  the  neglected  and  grossly  ignorant  laborer — nay,  not  with  the  child 
in  a  Sunday  or  Infant-school — and  there  strive  to  explain  and  enforce  the 
great  truths  of  the  Bible,  without  finding  his  own  views  of  the  gospel 
amplified  and  cleared  through  this  engagement  in  the  business  of  tuition. 
The  mere  trying  to  make  a  point  plain  to  another,  will  oftentimes  make 
it  far  i^lainer  than  ever  to  ourselves.  In  illustrating  a  doctrine  of  Scrip- 
ture, in  endeavoring  to  bi'ing  it  down  to  the  level  of  a  weak  or  undisci- 
plined understanding,  you  will  find  that  doctrine  presenting  itself  to  your 
own  minds  with  a  new  power  and  unimagined  beauty  ;  and  though  you 
may  have  read  the  standard  writers  on  theology,  and  mastered  the  essays 
of  the  most  learned  divines,  yet  shall  such  fresh  and  vigorous  apprehen- 
sions of  truth  be  derived  often  from  the  effort  to  press  it  home  on  the 
intellect  and  conscience  of  the  ignorant,  that  you  shall  pronounce  the 
cottage  of  the  untaught  peasant  your  best  school-house,  and  the  questions 
even  of  a  child  your  most  searching  catechisings  on  the  majestic  and 
mysterious  things  of  our  fliith.  And,  as  you  tell  over  to  the  poor  cot- 
tager the  story  of  the  incarnation  and  crucifixion,  and  inform  him  of  the 
nature  and  effects  of  Adam's  apostacy  ;  or  even  find  yourself  required 
to  adduce  more  elementary  truths,  pressing  on  the  neglected  man  the 
being  of  a  God,  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul ;  O,  it  shall  constantly 
occur  that  you  will  feel  a  keener  sense  than  ever  of  the  preciousness  ol 


510  HENRY    MELVILL. 

Christ,  or  a  greater  awe  at  tlie  majesties  of  Jebovali,  or  a  loffeier  bound- 
ing of  spirits  at  the  thought  of  your  own  deathlessness  ;  and  if  you  feel 
tempted  to  count  it  sti'ange,  that  in  teaching  another,  you  teach  also 
yourself,  and  that  you  carry  away  from  your  intercourse  with  the  me- 
chanic, or  the  child,  such  an  accession  to  your  own  knowledge,  or  your 
own  love,  as  shall  seem  to  make  you  the  indebted  party,  and  not  the 
obliging  ;  then  you  have  only  to  remember — and  the  remembrance  will 
sweep  away  sui-prise — that  it  is  a  fixed  appointment  of  the  Almighty, 
that  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

In  respect,  moreover,  to  alms-giving,  we  may  assert  that  there  is  evi- 
dently such  a  present  advantage  in  communicating  of  our  temporal  good 
things,  that  the  giver  becomes  the  receiver ;  and  thus  the  prmciple 
under  review  finds  a  fresh  illustration.  The  general  comfort  and  secu- 
rity of  society  depend  so  greatly  on  the  well-being  of  the  lower  orders, 
tliat  the  rich  consult  most  for  themselves  when  they  consult  most  for 
the  poor.  There  must  be  restlessness  and  anxiety  in  the  palace,  while 
misery  oppresses  the  great  mass  of  a  population.  And  every  eftbrt  to 
increase  the  happiness,  and  heighten  the  character  of  the  poor,  will  tell 
powerfully  on  the  condition  of  those  by  whom  it  is  made,  seeing  that 
the  contentment  and  good  order  of  the  peasantry  of  a  countiy,  give  value 
to  the  revenues  of  its  nobles  and  merchants.  For  our  own  part,  we  never 
look  on  a  public  hospital  or  infirmary,  we  never  behold  the  alms-houses 
into  which  old  age  may  be  received,  and  the  asylums  which  have  been 
thrown  up  on  all  sides,  for  the  widow  and  the  orphan,  without  feeling 
that,  however  generously  the  rich  come  forward  to  the  relief  of  the  poor, 
they  advantage  themselves  while  providing  for  the  sufiering  and  des- 
titute. These  buildings,  which  are  the  best  diadem  of  our  country,  not 
only  bring  blessings  on  the  land,  by  serving,  it  may  be,  as  electrical  con- 
ductors, which  turn  from  us  many  flashes  of  the  lightning  of  wrath;  but, 
being  as  centers  whence'  succors  are  sent  through  distressed  portions  of 
our  community,  they  are  fostering-places  of  kindly  dispositions  toward 
the  wealthier  ranks,  and  may,  therefore,  be  considered  as  structures  in 
which  a  kingdom's  prosperity  is  nursed ;  that  the  fittest  inscription  over 
their  gateways  would  be  this :  "  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall 
he  also  reap." 

Now  before  we  turn  to  the  second  topic  of  discourse,  we  would  make 
a  close  application  of  some  of  our  foregoing  statements.  You  perceive 
the  likelihood,  or  rather  the  certainty,  to  be,  that  in  all  cases,  there  will 
be  a  self-propagating  power  in  evil,  so  that  the  wrong  done  shall  be 
parent  to  a  line  of  misdoings.  We  have  shown  you,  for  example,  that 
to  stifle  a  conviction,  is  the  first  step  in  a  pathway  which  leads  directly 
to  stupefaction  of  conscience.  And  we  desire  to  fasten  on  this  fact,  and 
so  to  exhibit  it,  that  all  may  discern  their  own  concernment  therewith. 
We  remark  that  men  will  flock  in  crowds  to  the  public  preaching  of  the 
word,  though  the  master  of  natural  passion, -Avhatsocvcr  it  be,  retain, 


THE    REPRODUCTIVE    POWER   OF    HUMAN    ACTIONS.      511 

undisputed,  the  lordship  of  theii*  spirits ;  and  this  passion  may  be  avarice, 
or  it  may  be  vohii)tuousness,  or  ambition,  or  envy,  or  pride.  But  how- 
ever characterized,  the  dominant  kist  is  brought  into  the  sanctuary,  and 
exposed,  so  to  speak,  to  the  exorcisms  of  the  preacher.  And  who  shall 
say  -what  a  disturbhig  force  the  sermon  will  oftentimes  put  forth  against 
the  master-passion,  and  how  frequently  the  word  of  the  living  God, 
delivered  in  earnestness  and  affection,  shall  have  almost  made  a  breach 
in  the  stronghold  of  Satan  ?  Ay,  we  believe  that  often,  when  a  minis- 
ter, gathering  himself  up  in  the  strength  of  his  Master,  launches  the 
thunderbolts  of  truth  against  vice  and  unrighteousness,  there  is  a  vast 
stirring  of  heart  through  the  listening  assembly;  and  that  as  he  reasons 
of  "  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to  come"  (Acts,  xxiv.  25), 
though  the  natural  ear  catch  no  sounds  of  alarm  and  anxiety,  attendant 
angels,  who  watch  the  workings  of  the  gospel,  hear  the  deep  beatings 
of  many  souls,  and  almost  start  at  the  bounding  throb  of  aroused  and 
agitated  spirits.  If  Satan  ever  tremble  for  his  ascendancy,  it  is  when  the 
preacher  has  riveted  the  attention  of  the  imconverted  individual ;  and, 
after  describing  and  denouncing  the  covetous,  or  pourmg  out  the  tor- 
rents of  his  speech  on  an  exhibition  of  the  voluptuary,  or  exposing  the 
madness  and  misery  of  the  proud,  comes  down  on  that  individual  with 
the  startling  announcement :  "  Thou  art  the  man."  And  the  individual 
goes  away  fi-om  the  sanctuary,  convinced  of  the  necessity  of  subduing 
I'le  master-passion ;  and  he  Avill  form,  and  for  a  while  act  upon,  the  reso- 
lution of  wrestling  against  pride,  or  of  mortifying  lust,  or  of  renouncing 
avarice.  But  he  proceeds  in  his  own  strength,  and,  having  no  con- 
sciousness of  the  inabilities  of  his  nature,  seeks  not  to  God's  Spirit  for 
assistance.  In  a  little  time,  therefore,  all  the  impression  wears  away  :  he 
saw  only  the  dangers  of  sin ;  he  went  not  on  to  see  its  vileness  ;  and  the 
mind  soon  habituates  itself,  or  soon  grows  indifferent,  to  the  contempla- 
tion of  danger,  and,  above  all,  when  perhaps  distant.  Hence  the  man 
V,  ill  quickly  return  to  his  old  haunts ;  and  Avhether  it  be  to  money- 
making  that  he  again  gives  himself,  or  to  sensuality,  or  to  ambition,  he 
will  enter  on  the  pursuit  with  an  eagerness  heightened  by  abstinence : 
and  thus  the  result  vriW  be  practically  the  same,  as  though,  having  sown 
mortal  stupor,  he  were  reaping  a  harvest  tremendously  luxuriant.  And 
O !  if  the  man,  after  this  renouncement,  and  restoration,  of  the  master- 
passion,  come  again  to  the  sanctuary  —  and  if  again  the  preacher 
denounce,  with  a  righteous  vehemence,  every  working  of  u'ngodliness — 
and  the  fire  be  in  his  eye,  and  the  tlnmder  on  his  tongue,  as  he  makes  a 
stand  for  God,  and  for  truth,  against  a  reckless  and  a  semi-infidel  gene- 
I'ution — alas!  the  man  who  has  felt  convictions  and  sown  their  stifiings, 
^\•ill  be  more  inaccessible  than  ever,  and  more  impervious  ;  he  will  have 
been  hardened  by  the  vegetating  process  which  has  gone  on  in  his  soul. 
A  far  mightier  apparatus  than  befoi-e  will  be  required  to  make  the  light- 
est impression.    And  when  you  think  that  there  the  man  is  now  sitting 


512  HENRY    MELVILL. 

unmoved-by  the  terrors  of  the  word  ;  that  he  can  listen  with  indifference 
to  the  very  truth  which  once  agitated  him ;  and  that,  as  a  consequence 
of  the  reproduction  of  the  seed,  there  is  more  of  the  marble  in  his  com- 
position than  before,  and  more  of  the  ice,  and  more  of  the  iron — so  that 
the  lilceliliood  of  salvation  is  fearfully  diminished;  ye  can  need  no  further 
warning  against  trifling  with  convictions,  and  thus  making  light  of  the 
appointment,  that  "whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

But  we  proposed  to  examine,  in  the  second  place,  the  application  of 
the  principle  of  our  text  to  the  future  scene  of  recompense.  There  can 
be  no  question  that  the  reference  of  the  apostle  is,  especially,  to  the 
retributions  of  another  state  of  being.  The  present  life  is  emphatically 
the  seed-time,  the  next  life  the  harvest-time.  And  the  matter  we  now 
have  in  hand  is  the  ascertaming  whether  it  be  by  the  natural  process 
of  the  thing  sown  yielding  the  thing  reaped,  that  sinfulness  here  shall 
give  torment  hereafter. 

You  will  observe  that,  in  showing  the  application  of  the  principle 
under  review,  to  the  j)resent  scene  of  probation,  we  proved  that  the 
utmost  which  God  does  toward  confii'ming  a  man  in  impenitence  is  the 
leaving  him  to  himself,  the  withdrawing  from  him  gradually  the  remon- 
strances of  his  Spirit.  The  man  is  literally  his-  own  hardener,  and, 
therefore,  literally  his  own  destroyer.  And  we  now  inquire,  whether  or  no 
he  will  be  his  own  punisher  ?  "We  seem  required,  if  we  would  maintain 
rigidly  the  principle  of  our  text,  to  suppose  that  what  is  reaped  in  the 
future  shall  be  identical  with  what  is  sown  in  the  present.  It  can  not  be 
questioned  that  this  is  a  fair  representation.  The  seed  reproduces  itself 
It  is  the  same  grain  which  the  sower  scatters,  and  the  reaper  collects. 
We  may,  therefore,  lay  it  down  as  the  statement  of  our  text,  that  what 
is  reaped  in  the  next  life  shall  be  literally  of  the  same  kind  with  what  is 
so\^^^  in  this  life.  But,  if  this  be  correct,  it  must  follow  that  a  man's 
sinfulness  shall  be  a  man's  punishment. 

And  there  is  no  lack  of  scriptural  evidence  on  the  side  of  the  opinion, 
that  the  leaving  the  wicked,  throughout  eternity,  to  their  mutual  re- 
criminations, to  the  workings  and  boilings  of  over-wrought  passions,  to 
the  scorpion-sting  of  an  undying  remorse,  and  all  the  native  and  inborn 
agonies  of  vice — that  this,  without  the  interference  of  a  divinely-sent 
ministry  of  vengeance,  may  make  that  pandemonium  which  is  sketched 
to  us  by  all  that  is  horrible  and  ghastly  in  imagery ;  and  that  tormenting, 
only  by  giving  up  the  sinner  to  be  his  own  tormentor,  God  may  fulfill 
all  the  ends  of  a  retributive  economy,  awarding  to  wickedness  its  merited 
condemnation,  and  displaying  to  the  universe  the  dreadfulness  of  re- 
bellion. 

It  may  be,  we  say,  that  there  shall  be  required  no  direct  interferences 
on  the  part  of  God.  It  may  be  that  the  Almighty  shall  not  commission 
an  avenging  train  to  goad  and  lacerate  the  lost.  The  sinner  is  hardened 
by  being  left  to  himself;  and  may  it  not  be  that  the  sinner  shall  be 


THE    REPRODUCTIVE    POWER    OF    HUMAN    AUCTIONS.      518 

punished  by  being  left  to  himself?     We  think  assuredly  that  the  pa? 
sage  before  us  leads  straightway  to  such  a  conclusion. 

We  may  have  habituated  ourselves  to  the  idea  that  God  shall  take, 
as  it  were,  into  his  own  hands  the  punishment  of  the  condemned,  and 
that,  standing  over  them  as  the  executioner  of  the  sentence,  he  will 
visit  body  and  soul  with  the  afflictions  of  ^^Tath. 

But  it  consists  far  better  with  the  character  of  God  that  judgment 
should  be  viewed  as  the  natural  produce  of  sinfulness,  so  that,  without 
any  divine  interference,  the  sinfulness  will  generate  the  judgment.-  Let 
sinfulness  alone,  and  it  will  become  punishment.  Such  is,  probably,  the 
true  account  of  this  awful  matter.  The  thing  reaped  is  the  thing  sown. 
And  if  the  thing  sown  be  sinfulness,  and  if  the  thing  reaped  be  punish- 
ment, then  the  punishment,  after  all,  must  be  the  sinfulness  '  and  that 
feai-ful  apparatus  of  tortui'e  which  is  spoken  of  in  Scripture,  the  apparatus 
of  a  worm  that  dieth  not,  and  of  a  fire  that  is  not  quenched ;  this  may 
be  just  a  man's  o^\^l  guilt,  the  things  sown  in  this  mortal  life  sprung  up 
and  waving  in  an  immortal  harvest.  We  think  this  is  a  point  of  great 
moiuent.  It  were  comparatively  little  to  say  of  an  individual  who  sells 
himself  to  work  evil,  and  carries  it  with  a  high  hand  and  a  brazen  front 
against  the  Sword  of  the  whole  eai'th,  that  he  shuts  himself  up  to  a  cer- 
tain and  definite  destruction.  The  thrilling  truth  is,  that,  in  working 
iniquity,  he  sows'for  himself  anguish.  He  gives  not  way  to  a  new  de- 
sire; he  allows  not  a  fresh  victory  to  lust,  without  multiplying  the 
amount  of  final  torment.  By  every  excursion  of  2>aPsion,  and  by  every 
indulgence  of  an  unhallowed  craving,  and  by  all  misdoings  of  a  hardened 
and  dissolute  life,  he  may  be  literally  said  to  pour  into  the  granary  of 
his  future  destinies  the  goads  and  stings  which  shall  madden  his  spirit. 
lie  lays  up  more  food  for  self-reproach.  He  widens  the  field  over 
^\hich  thought  ^vi\\.  pass  in  bitterness,  and  mow  down  remorse.  He 
teaches  the  worm  to  be  ingenious  in  excruciating,  by  tasking  his  wit 
that  he  maybe  ingenious  in  sinning — for  some  men,  as  the  prophet  saith, 
and  it  is  a  wonderful  expression — "are  wise  to  do  evil."  (Jer., iv.  22.) 
And  thus,  his  iniquities  opening,  as  it  were,  fresh  inlets  for  the  ap- 
l)roachcs  of  vengeance,  with  the  growth  of  wickedness  will  be  the 
growth  of  punishment ;  and  at  last  it  will  appear  that  his  resistance  to 
convictions,  his  neglect  of  opportiinities,  and  his  determined  enslave- 
ment to  evil,  have  literally  worked  for  him  "  a  far  more  exceeding  and 
eternal  weight"  of  despair. 

But  even  this  expresses  not  clearly  and  fully  what  seems  taught  by 
our  text.  We  are  searching  for  an  identity  or  sameness  between  what 
is  sown  and  what  is  reaped.  We,  therefore,  yet  further  observe  that  it 
may  not  be  needful  that  a  material  rack  should  be  prepared  for  the  body, 
and  fiery  spirits  gnaw  upon  the  soul.  It  may  not  be  needful  that  the 
Creator  should  appoint  distinct  and  extraneous  arrangements  for  torture 
Let  what  we  call  the  husbandry  of  wickedness  go  forward  ;  let  the  sin- 

S3 


524  HENRY    MELVILL. 

ner  reap  what  the  sinner  has  sown ;  and  there  is  a  haiwest  of  anguish 
foi-ever  to  be  gathered.  Who  discerns  not  that  punisliment  may  thus  be 
sinfuhiess,  and,  therefore,  the  principle  of  our  text  may  hold  to  the 
very  letter  in  a  scene  of  retribution  ?  A  man  "  sows  to  the  flesh  ;"  this 
is  the  apostle's  description  of  sinfulness.  He  is  "  of  the  flesh  to  reap 
corruption  ;"  this  is  his  description  of  punishment.  He  "  sows  to  the 
flesh"  by  pampering  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  he  "  reaps  of  the  flesh" 
Avlien  these  pampered  lusts  fall  on  him  with  fresh  cravings,  and  demand 
of  him  fresh  gratifications.  But  suppose  this  reaping  continued  in  the 
next  life,  and  is  not  the  man  mowing  dow^n  a  harvest  of  agony  ?  Let 
all  those  passions  and  desires  which  have  been  the  man's  business  upon 
earth,  hunger  and  thirst  for  gratification  hereafter,  and  will  ye  seek  else- 
where for  the  pai'ched  tongue  beseeching  fruitlessly  one  drop  of  water  ? 
Let  the  envious  man  keep  his  envy,  and  the  jealous  man  his  jealousy, 
and  the  revengeful  man  his  revengefulness  ;  and  each  has  a  worm  which 
shall  eat  out  everlastingly  the  very  core  of  his  soul.  Let  the  miser  have 
still  his  thoughts  upon  gold,  and  the  drunkard  his  upon  the  wine-cup, 
and  the  sensualist  his  upon  voluptuousness;  and  a  fire-sheet  is  round 
each  which  shall  never  be  extinguished.  We  know  not  whether  it  be 
possible  to  conjure  up  a  more  terrible  image  of  a  lost  man,  than  by  sup- 
posing him  everlastingly  preyed  upon  by  the  master-lust  which  has  here 
held  him  in  bondage.  We  think  that  you  have  before  you  the  spectacle 
of  a  being,  hunted,  as  it  were,  by  a  never-wearying  fiend,  Avhen  you 
imagine  that  there  rages  in  the  licentious  and  profligate— ronly  wrought 
into  a  fury  which  has  no  parallel  upon  earth — that  very  passion  which  it 
was  the  concern  of  a  life-time  to  indulge,  but  which  it  must  now  be  the 
employment  of  an  eternity  to  deny.  We  are  persuaded  that  you  reach 
the  summit  of  all  that  is  tremendous  in  conception,  when  you  suppose 
a  man  consigned  to  the  tyranny  of  a  lust  which  can  not  be  conquered, 
and  which  can  not  be  gratified.  It  is  literally  surrendering  him  to  a 
vrorm  which  dieth  not,  to  a  fire  which  is  not  quenched.  And  while  the 
hist  does  the  part  of  a  ceaseless  tormentor,  the  man,  unable  longer  to 
indulge  in  it,  will  writhe  in  remorse  at  having  endowed  it  with  sov- 
ereignty :  and  thus  there  will  go  on  (though  not  in  our  power  to  conceive, 
and,  O  God,  grant  it  may  never  be  our  lot  to  experience),  the  cravings 
of  passion  with  the  self-reproachings  of  the  soul ;  and  the  torn  and 
tossed  creature  shall  forever  long  to  gratify  lust,  and  forever  bewail  his 
madness  in  gratifying  it. 

Now  you  must  perceive  that  in  thus  sketching  the  possible  nature  of 
future  retribution,  we  only  show  that  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that 
shall  he  also  reap."  We  prove  that  sinfulness  may  be  punishment,  so 
that  the  things  reaped  shall  be  identical  with  the  things  sown  according 
to  the  word  of  the  prophet  Hosea,  "  they  have  sown  the  wind,  and  they 
shall  reap  the  whirlwind"  (Hosea,  viii.  7).  We  reckon  that  the  principle 
of  our  text,  when  rigidly  applied,  requires  us  to  suppose  the  retribution 


THE   RErRODVCTIYE   POWER   OF  HUMAN   ACTIONS.        515 

of  the  ungodly  the  natural  produce  of  their  actions.  It  shall  not, 
perhaps,  be  that  God  will  interpose  with  an  apparatus  of  judgments, 
any  more  than  he  now  interposes  with  an  apparatus  for  hardening,  or 
confirming  in  impenitence.  Indiiference,  if  let  alone,  will  produce 
obduracy  ;  and  obduracy,  if  let  alone,  will  produce  torments.  Obduracy 
is  indiiference  multiplied ;  and  thus  it  is  the  hai'vest  from  the  grain. 
Torment  is  obduracy  perpetuated  and  bemoaned;  and  this  again  is 
harvest — the  grain  reproduced,  but  thorns  around  the  ear.  Thus,  from 
first  to  last,  "  whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  also  does  he  reap."  We 
should  be  disposed  to  plead  for  the  sound  divinity,  as  well  as  the  line 
poetry  of  words,  which  Milton  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Satan  when  ap- 
proaching to  the  survey  of  paradise  :  "  Which  way  I  fly  is  hell ;  myself  am 
hell."  "Myself  am  hell !"  It  is  the  very  idea  which  we  have  extracted 
from  our  text ;  the  idea  of  a  lost  creature  being  his  own  tormentor,  his 
own  place  of  torment.  There  shall  be  needed  no  retinue  of  wrath  to 
heap  on  the  fuel,  or  tighten  the  rack,  or  sharpen  the  goad.  He  can  not 
escape  from  himself,  and  himself  is  hell. 

We  would  add  that  our  text  is  not  the  only  scriptural  passage  which 
intimates  that  sinfulness  shall  spring  up  into  punishment,  exactly  as  the 
seed  sown  produces  the  harvest. 

In  the  first  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  the  eternal  wisdom 
marks  out  in  terrible  language  the  doom  of  the  scorners :  "  I  also  will 
laugh  at  your  calamity,  and  mock  when  your  fear  cometh."  (Prov.,  i. 
26.)  And  then,  when  he  would  describe  their  exact  punishment,  he  says, 
"  They  shall  eat  of  the  fruit  of  their  own  way,  and  be  filled  with  their 
owm  devices."  (Prov.,  i.  31.)  They  reap,  you  see,  what  they  sow;  their 
torments  are  "their  own  devices."  We  have  a  similar  expression  in 
the  Book  of  Job  :  "  Even  as  I  have  seen,  they  that  plow  iniquity  and 
sow  wickedness  reap  the  same."  (Job,  i.  8.)  Thus  again  in  the  Book  of 
Proverbs  :  "  The  backslider  in  heart  shall  be  filled  ^dth  his  own  ways." 
(Prov.,  xiv.  14.)  We  may  add  that  solemn  verse  in  the  last  chapter  of 
the  Book  of  Revelation,  which  seems  to  us  exactly  to  the  point.  It  is 
spoken  in  the  j^rospect  of  Christ's  immediate  appearance  :  "  He  that  is 
unjust,  let  him  be  unjust  still ;  and  he  that  is  filthy,  let  him  be  filthy 
still ;  and  he  that  is  righteous,  let  him  be  righteous  still ;  and  he  that  is 
holy,  let  him  be  holy  still."    (Rev.,  xxii.  11.) 

The  master-property  is  here  represented  as  remaining  the  master- 
property.  The  unjust  continues  forever  the  unjust,  the  filthy  forever 
the  filthy.  So  that  the  indulged  i:)rinciple  keeps  fast  its  ascendancy,  as 
though,  according  to  the  foregoing  supposition,  it  is  to  become  the  tor- 
menting principle.  The  distinguishing  characteristic  never  departs. 
When  it  can  no  longer  be  served  and  gratified  by  its  slave,  it  wreaks  its 
disappointment  tremendously  on  its  victim. 

There  is  thus  a  precise  agreement  between  our  text,  as  now  ex- 
pounded, and  othpr  portiovs  of  the  Bible  which  refer  to  the  same  topic. 


5X6  HENRY    MELVILL. 

We  have  indeed,  as  you  will  observe,  dealt  chiefly  with  the  sowing  and 
reaping  of  the  wicked,  and  but  just  alluded  to  those  of  the  righteous. 
It  would  not,  however,  be  difficult  to  prove  to  you,  that,  inasmuch  as 
holiness  is  happiness,  godliness  shall  be  reward,  even  as  sinfulness  shall 
be  punishment.  And  it  is  clear  that  the  apostle  designed  to  include  both 
cases  under  his  statement :  for  he  subjoins  as  its  illustration,  "  He  that 
soweth  to  the  flesh,  shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption ;  but  he  that  sow- 
eth  to  the  Si^irit,  shall  of  the  Spirit  reap  life  everlasting."  We  can  not 
indeed  plead,  in  the  second  case,  for  as  rigid  an  application  of  the  prin- 
ciple as  in  the  first.  We  can  not  argue,  that  is,  for  what  we  call  the 
natural  ^jrocess  of  vegetation.  There  must  be  constant  interferences  on 
the  part  of  deity.  God  himself,  rather  than  man,  is  the  sower ;  and 
unless  God  were  continually  busy  with  the  seed,  it  could  never  germ- 
inate and  send  up  a  harvest  of  glory.  We  think  that  this  distinction 
between  the  cases  is  intimated  by  St.  Paul :  the  one  man  sows  "  to  the 
flesh ;"  himself  the  husbandman,  himself  the  territory ;  the  other  man 
sows  "  to  the  Spirit,  to  the  Holy  Ghost."  And  here  there  is  a  superin- 
duced soil  which  differs  altogether  from  the  natural ;  but  if  there  be  not, 
in  each  case,  precisely  the  same,  there  is  sufficient  vigor  of  ajDplication  to 
bear  out  the  assertion  of  our  text.  We  remember  that  it  was  "  a  crown  of 
righteousness"  (2  Tim.,  iv.  8)  which  sparkled  before  Paul ;  and  we  may, 
therefore,  believe  that  the  righteousness  which  God's  grace  has  nour- 
ished in  the  heart  will  grow  into  recompense,  just  as  the  wickedness,  in 
which  the  transgressor  has  indulged,  will  shoot  into  torment.  So  that, 
although  it  were  easy  to  speak  at  greater  length  on  the  case  of  true 
believers,  we  may  lay  it  down  as  a  demonstrated  truth,  whether  respect 
be  had  to  the  godly  or  the  disobedient  of  the  earth,  that  "  whatsoever 
a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap." 

And  now,  what  mean  ye  to  reap  on  that  grand  harvest-day,  the  day 
of  judgment  ?  Every  one  of  you  is  sowing  either  to  the  flesh  or  to  the 
Spirit ;  and  every  one  of  you  must,  hereafter,  take  the  sickle  in  his  hand, 
and  mow  down  the  j^roduce  of  his  husbandry. 

We  will  speak  no  longer  on  things  of  terror.  We  have  said  enough 
to  alarm  the  indifferent ;  and  we  pray  God  that  the  careless  among  you 
may  find  these  words  of  the  prophet  ringing  in  their  ears,  when  they  lie 
down  to  rest  this  night :  "The  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and 
we  are  not  saved."  (Jer.,  iii.  20.)  But,  ere  we  conclude,  we  would 
address  a  word  to  the  men  of  God,  and  animate  them  to  the  toils  of 
tillage  by  the  hopes  of  reaping.  We  know  that  it  is  with  much  op- 
position from  indwelling  corruption,  with  many  thwartings  from  Satan 
and  your  evil  hearts,  that  ye  prosecute  the  work  of  breaking  up  your 
fallow  grouijd,  and  sowing  to  yourselves  in  righteousness.  Ye  have  to 
deal  with  a  stubborn  soil.  The  prophet  Amos  asks,  "  Shall  horses  run 
upon  the  rock  ;  will  one  plow  there  with  oxen  ?"  (Amos,  vi.  12.)  Yet, 
this  is  precisely  what  you  have  to  do.     It  is  the  rock,  "  the  heart  of 


THE    REPRODUCTIVE    POWER    OF    HUMAN    ACTIONS.     517 

Stone,"  wliicli  you  must  bring  into  cultivation.  Yet,  be  ye  not  dismayed. 
Above  all  things,  pause  not,  as  though  doubtful  M'hether  to  prosecute  a 
labor  which  seems  to  grow  as  it  is  performed. 

"  No  man  haA'ing  put  his  hand  to  the  plow,  and  looking  back,  is  fit 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  (Luke,  ix.  62.)  Rather  comfort  yourselves 
with  that  beautiful  declaration  of  the  Psalmist :  "  They  that  sow  in  tears 
shall  reap  in  joy."  (Psalm  cxxvi,  5.)  Rather  call  to  mind  the  saying  of 
the  apostle  :  "  Ye  are  God's  husbandry."  (2  Cor.,  iii.  9.)  It  is  God,  who 
by  his  Si^irit,  plows  the  ground,  and  sows  the  seed,  and  imparts  the 
influences  of  sun  and  shower.  "  My  Father,"  said  Jesus,  "  is  the 
husbandman"  (John,  xv.  1)  ;  and  can  ye  not  feel  assured  that  he  will 
give  the  increase.  Look  ye  on  to  the  harvest-time.  What  though  the 
winter  be  dreary  and  long,  and  there  seem  no  shooting  of  the  fig-tree  to 
tell  you  that  summer  is  nigh,  Christ  shall  yet  speak  to  his  Church  in 
that  loveliest  of  poetry :  "  Lo,  the  winter  is  past,  the  rain  is  over  and 
gone,  the  flowers  appear  on  the  earth,  the  time  of  the  singing  of  birds 
is  come,  and  the  voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  the  land."  (Cant., 
ii.  11,  12.)  Then  shall  be  the  harvest.  We  can  not  tell  you  the  glory 
of  the  things  which  ye  shall  reap.  We  can  not  show  you  the  wavings 
of  the  golden  corn.  But  this  we  know,  "  that  the  suflerings  of  this 
present  time  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  shall 
be  revealed  in  us"  (Rom,,  viii.  18) ;  and  therefore,  brethren,  beloved  in 
the  Lord,  "  be  ye  not  weary  in  well-doing,  for  in  due  season  ye  shall 
reap,  if  ye  faint  not."     (Gal.,  vi.  9.) 


DISC  ftUESE    XXXVII. 

JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

Ko  minister  in  England  is  better  known,  and  more  beloved  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  than  the  venerable  James.  He  is  now  advanced  in  life  beyond  liis  three- 
score and  ten,  having  been  torn  in  Blandford,  England,  June  the  6th,  1785,  the  son 
of  Joseph  James,  a  linen-draper  and  pious  dissenter.  He  became  a  subject  of  re- 
newing grace  in  the  year  1800 ;  and  having  completed  his  preliminary  stuthes, 
mainly  at  Gosport,  he  was  ordained  in  1806  to  the  charge  of  the  Congregational 
Church  in  Birmingham ;  which  pastorate  he  has  ever  since  held — a  period  of  51 
years.  Notwithstanding  several  colonies  have  gone  out  into  the  suburbs  of  the 
town,  the  Church  now  numbers  about  1000  members,  and  is  one  of  the  most  in- 
fluential in  Great  Britain.  With  the  help  of  a  colleague  recently  chosen,  the  aged 
man  of  God  still  ministers  to  a  happy  and  united  flock. 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  James  has  long  held  a  high  place  among  the  most  able  and  pop- 
ular ministers  of  the  day.  After  the  manner  of  most  of  the  English  dissenters,  he 
generally  speaks  from  a  well-digested  plan,  leaving  the  language  to  be  supplied  chiefly 
by  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  at  the  moment  of  utterance.  His  appearance  in  the 
pulpit  is  said  to  be  imposing  and  dignified,  and  his  manner  is  at  once  persuasive  and 
commanding,  tender  and  energetic,  exhibiting  a  soul  deeply  impressed  with  its  own 
bold  and  lofty  thoughts,  and  forgetful  of  every  thing  else  but  the  great  end  which 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  designed  to  accomplish.  His  discourses  are  generally 
framed  with  much  skOl,  and  are  adapted  not  less  to  arouse  and  quicken,  than  to 
guide  and  edify ;  not  less  to  seize  hold  of  the  conscience,  than  to  warm  and  elevate 
the  feelings ;  not  less  to  impress  the  careless  sinner  with  a  sense  of  his  ruin,  than  to 
search  the  heart  of  the  hypocrite,  and  build  up  the  true  Chiistian  in  the  most  holy 
faith. 

Mr.  James  is  a  voluminous  author — most  of  his  works  being  of  a  particular  class — 
not  learned  or  critical,  but  practical,  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  term,  and  designed, 
either  to  guide  in  Christian  duty,  or  awaken  the  ungodly.  Some  of  his  principal 
works  are  "  The  Church-Member's  Guide,"  "  The  Christian  Father's  Present  to  his 
Children,"  "Christian  Charity,"  "The  Family  Monitor,"  "  The  Anxious  Inquirer," 
"  Christian  Duty,"  "  The  Church  in  Earnest,"  "  An  Earnest  Ministry,''  and  "  The 
Course  of  Faith." 

It  is  remarkable  that  one  who  writes  so  much  should  write  so  well.  The  produc- 
tions of  Mr.  James  are  models  of  their  kind.  The  style  is  so  simple  as  to  be  trans- 
parent to  the  mind  of  a  child,  yet  so  beautiful  as  to  attract  the  man  of  cultivated 
taste ;  moreover,  they  always  breathe  a  heavenly  spirit,  are  deeply  imbued  with  the 
evangelical  sentiment,  and  an  evident  earnestness  to  do  good. 


TRUTH    AND     LOVE.  5I9 

The  following  discourse,  forwarded  by  the  author  for  this  work,  and  never  before 
published  in  this  country,  was  prepared  with  reference  to  a  controversy  which  has 
been  carried  on  with  considerable  warmth,  of  late,  in  the  Congregational  body  in  En- 
gland, on  tlie  subject  of  evangelical  truth,  and  which  was  originated  by  the  puljUca- 
tion  of  a  volume  of  poetry,  called  the  "  Rivulet."  It  was  intended  to  be  preached 
at  the  regular  autumnal  meeting  of  the  Congregational  Union ;  but  that  meeting 
having  been  postponed  for  various  reasons,  the  discourse  was  not  delivered.  Ita 
peaceful,  conciliatory  spirit,  its  sound  Christian -views,  its  timely  counsels  and  weighty 
■warnings,  give  to  it  a  value  which  is  not  limited  to  any  particular  country  or  time 
A  few  allusions,  principally  of  a  local  character,  are  omitted. 


THE  UNION  OF  TRUTH  AND  LOVE. 

"Speaking  the  truth  in  love." — Ephes.,  iv.  15. 

I  PASS  by  the  magnificent  context,  and  at  once  take  up  the  text  as  an 
abstract  proposition,  complete  in  its  own  isolation,  and  imposing  upon 
all,  and  especially  upon  ministers,  a  most  incumbent  and  momentous 
duty.  "  Speaking  the  truth  in  love,"  does  not  refer  primarily,  if  at  all, 
to  veracity  between  man  and  man,  but  to  our  expression,  and  our  mode 
of  expression,  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  whether  in  the  way  of 
didactic  teaching,  defense,  or  controversy — whether  by  the  pen  or  word 
of  mouth — or  whether  by  ministers  in  their  public  ministrations,  or  by 
other  persons  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life.  It  is  a  general  rule, 
commanding  and  directing  us,  that  whenever  truth  is  upon  our  lips, 
love  shall  be  in  our  hearts,  and  upon  our  tongues,  so  that  our  fiiith  and 
our  charity  shall  be  equally  conspicuous  in  all  we  say.  I  shall  apply 
this  rule  on  the  present  occasion  to  the  ministerial  enunciation  of  truth, 
whether  from  the  pulpit  or  the  press.  And  I  think  these  few  beautiful 
words  give  out  to  us  the  subject  and  the  spirit  of  our  ministry. 

First. — The  subject  of  our  ministration. — ^We  are  not  only  tiie 
teachers  of  truth,  but  of  the  truth  ;  and  not  only  of  religious,  but  of 
Christian  truth.  We  minister,  of  course,  at  the  altar  of  the  God  of 
nature  and  providence  ;  but  this  stands  only  in  the  vestibule  of  the 
temple  of  truth,  and  our  chief  service  is  at  the  altar  of  the  God  of  re- 
demption, which  points  and  leads  to  the  mercy-seat  in  the  holy  of  holies. 
Ours  is  "  the  ministry  of  reconciliation"  between  God  and  a  revolted 
world:  than  which  there  is  n( thing  higher  for  th<3  highest  ambition  to 
seek,  or  possess. 

All  that  is  put  forward  as  s'uth,  and  claims  to  be  such,  must  appeal 
to  some  standard  by  which  its  claims  are  to  be  tried.  And  what  is  the 
standard  of  Christian  truth  ?  Not  our  own  intuitional  consciences,  for 
objective  Christianity  is  a  collection  of  facts  to  be  tried  by  their  own 
evidence,  and  not  by  the  evidence  suggested  by  our  own  reason,  for 


520  JOHiJ    AXGEL    JAMES. 

they  are  themselves  facts  of  which  reason  can  know  nothing  but  as  they 
are  revealed  to  it,  and  for  which  it  can  find  no  vouchers  in  itself.  N"ot 
the  authority  of  the  church,  for  the  church  is  composed  of  falhble  men, 
and,  uiultiply  fallibles  as  you  may,  they  can  never  make  infallibility.  Not 
creeds  and  articles,  catechisms  and  formularies,  for  whatever  may  be  the 
value  they  have  as  exponents  of  opinion — discriminators  of  systems — 
bases  of  communion — and  subordinate  breakwaters  against  the  waves 
of  error,  they  must  all  themselves  be  tried  by  the  word  of  God,  and  can 
not  be  the  test  of  truth.  The  only  infallible  truth  is  the  word  of  God. 
The  Bible,  and  the  Bible  alone,  is  the  religion,  not  only  of  Protestants, 
but  of  Christians  ;  and  when  men  can  be  brought  to  gather  round  this 
fountain  of  truth,  and  there  "  purify  their  much-abused  vision,  fi-om  the 
scales  of  prejudice  and  passion,"  a  better  understanding  and  a  more 
general  agreement  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  will  be  ariived  at. 
Angry  controversies  and  legal  restraints  Avill  do  httle  for  this  object, 
"  for  unless  an  angel  were  to  descend  for  that  purpose,  the  spirit  of 
strife  is  a  disease  not  to  be  healed  by  the  troubhng  of  the  waters." 

But  what  is  it  that  gives  the  Bible  its  authority  as  the  standard  of 
truth?  Its  inspiration:  and  the  main  object  of  the  father  of  lies,  the 
center  of  the  jDolicy  of  pandemonium,  in  this  day,  is  to  prove  that  in- 
spiration in  its  higher  sense  falters  before  a  rigid  criticism.  "  My 
brethren,"  says  the  venerable  Archdeacon  Law,  in  an  admirable  charge 
to  his  clergy,  "  unless  we  are  content  to  fall  before  the  insidious  errors 
of  the  day,  we  must  take  our  stand  upon  the  rock  of  an  inspired  Bible. 
When  final  and  irrevocable  appeal  to  this  fails,  we  lose  our  vantage- 
ground.  Our  noblest  victories  in  the  great  fight  of  faith  can  then  only 
win  the  palm  of  probability.  Nothing  in  theology  is  certain,  if  the  in- 
spiration of  the  Bible  be  not  so.  If  texts  be  disputable  proof,  our  whole 
ministry  is  but  a  doubtful  argument."  Not  only  are  the  nerves  and 
sinews  of  our  strength  dried  up,  but  our  shield  is  lost,  the  point  of  our 
sword  is  blunted,  and  truth  is  exposed  defenseless  to  the  weapons  of 
error.  When  inspiration  is  gone,  the  hedge  around  the  sacred  vine  of 
Scripture  is  broken  down,  and  the  boar  out  of  the  wood  will  waste  it. 
We  must,  for  the  adjustment  of  controversy,  and  the  settlement  of 
religious  truth,  have  infallibility  somewhere,  and  if  we  can  not  find 
it  in  the  Bible,  it  is  no  matter  of  wonder  that  some  go  and  seek  for 
it  in  the  church.  Take  away  inspiration,  or  reduce  it  to  the  level,  or 
to  an  approximation  to  the  level,  of  Homer,  Milton,  and  Shaksj>eare, 
as  modern  theorists  would  do — and  what  have  we  left  in  the  Bible, 
but  the  opinion  of  men  fallible  as  ourselves,  with  better  information  it 
is  true,  but  still  lallible  men,  whose  dicta  being  liable  to  be  wrong,  we 
are  at  liberty  not  only  to  sift,  but  also  to  reject  ? 

But  we  now  go  on  to  ask,  not  whether  the  Bible  is  true,  but  what  is 
the  truth  in  the  Bible  ?  Never  was  a  more  important  question  asked 
than  that  which  Pilate  proposed  to  the  illustrious  prisoner'at  his  bar: 


TRUTH     AXD    LOVE.  521 

What  is  truth  ?  and.  if  oar  Lord  deigned  not  to  answer  it,  his 
silence  was  not  intended  to  manifest  that  he  thought  the  query  beneath 
his  notice,  but  to  rebuke  the  frivolity  of  the  querist,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  that  of  all  others  who  in  subsequent  ages  should  trifle  with  a  sub- 
ject so  serious  and  of  such  tremendous  importance.  Ti'uth  is  the  great- 
est and  the  most  solemn  thing  in  the  universe,  next  to  the  God  of  truth, 
and  demands  to  be  approached  with  something  of  the  reverential  awe 
A^ith  Avhich  we  draw  near  to  its  divine  source.  But,  again  I  ask,  what 
is  truth  ?  A  thousand  things  are  true,  which  are  not  worthy  to  be 
called  TRUTH — much  less  the  truth.  And  what  oracle  shall  give  out  the 
response  ?  To  discover  this,  all  the  noblest  intellects  of  ancient  and 
modern  times  have  engaged  in  exploratory  researches.  The  mightiest^ 
minds  have  kindled  their  lamps  and  gone  into  the  dark  regions  of  the 
terra  incognita.  But,  set  aside  the  records  of  inspiration,  we  are  still  in 
the  condition  of  the  ancient  sages,  floating  upon  an  ocean  of  doubt  and 
conjecture,  saying,  "  Who  can  tell  ? — peradventure  ;"  without  this  we 
shall  arrive  at  that  temper  and  spirit,  >vhicli  in  modern  times  has  trans- 
formed the  natural  thirst  after  truth  into  the  hydrophobia  of  a  homeless 
and  incurable  skepticism. 

When  Pilate  asked  his  question,  there,  vailed  under  the  form  of  that 
despised  and  rejected  man  who  stood  as  a  criminal  at  his  bai-,  stood  this 
mighty,  glorious,  and  hitherto  mysterious  and  undiscovered  thing,  which 
thousands  of  the  mightiest  intellects  on  earth  had  sought  for  in  vain. 
One  of  the  sublimest  expressions  that  ever  dropped  from  the  lips  of  the 
Gi'eat  Teachei-,  when  upon  earth,  was  this:  '-'- 1 ann  the  truths  To  the 
sound  of  these  words  heaven  and  earth  might  have  listened  with  rapture, 
as  solving  the  problems,  and  relieving  the  solicitudes  of  forty  genera- 
tions. Yes,  Jesus  Christ  is  truth  incarnate,  as  well  as  love  incarnate ; 
hence  the  apostle's  emphatic  expression :  "  The  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus?'' 
Christ  Is  the  center  of  all  religious  truth,  where  all  its  lines  converge  as 
in  a  focus,  and  from  thence  radiate  with  brilliant  splendor  to  the  exti-em- 
ities  of  the  universe.  In  the  divinity  of  his  person,  and  his  work  of  me- 
diation as  prophet,  priest,  and  king,  consists  all  momentous  truth.  And. 
is  it  not  matter  of  unutterable  wonder,  joy,  and  gratitude,  to  see  truth, 
not  in  abstract  dogmas,  articles,  and  propositions,  but  in  this  concrete 
form  !  It  is  indeed  a  glorious  thing  to  see  truth  doctrinal,  enshrmed. 
thus  in  the  person  of  its  divine  Author. 

If,  out  of  the  numerous  doctrines  which  have  their  center  in  Christ,  I 
were  to  select  one,  which  includes  or  implies  all  the  rest,  and  which 
deserves  the  emphasis  o^  the  truth,  it  is  the  atoxement.  By  the  atone- 
ment I  mean  the  death  of  Christ,  as  a  vicarious  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of 
the  world.  The  death  of  Christ  upon  the  cross,  is  designed  to  be  a  man- 
ifestation of  divine  justice,  in  harmony  with  mercy,  and  not  merely  a 
manifestation  of  love  apart  from  justice.  How  clearly  is  this  proved  by 
tiie  apostle,  where  he  says,  "  Whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitia^ 


522  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

tion  through  faith  in  his  blood,  to  declare  his  righte^Risness  for  the 
remission  of  sins  that  are  past ;  to  declare,  I  say,  his  righteousness,  that 
he  might  be  just  and  the  justifier  of  him  that  believeth  in  Jesus."  (Rom., 
lii.  24,  25.)  Here,  in  the  comj^ass  of  these  two  yerses.  Justice  is  three 
times  declared  to  be  that  attribute  of  God  which  is  specially  regarded  in 
the  death  of  Christ;  and  in  what  way  but  by  atonement  can  justice  be 
thus  manifested  ?  Had  love  been  the  only  attribute  of  God's  nature  to 
be  consulted  by  a  syvStem  of  mediation,  the  cross  would  have  been  little 
better  than  an  incumbrance  upon  it,  an  opaque  object  to  eclipse  it, 
instead  of  a  clear,  transparent  medium  to  reveal  it.  Without  this  doc- 
trine of  atonement,  as  including  personal  substitution  and  real  propitia^ 
tion,  there  seems  to  be  no  correspondence  between  the  gospel  as  the 
substance  and  the  shadow  of  the  law.  The  deepest  wants  of  human 
nature  and  its  most  urgent  cravings,  as  made  known  in  the  sacrificial 
rites  of  all  nations,  are  left  unsatisfied,  the  brightest  glories  of  the  God- 
head are  unrevealed,  the  elements  of  revealed  truth  sink  to  chaos,  the 
light  of  salvation  is  extinguished  forever,  and  the  hope  of  a  guilty  world 
must  set  in  eternal  despair.  To  deny  the  atonement,  or  which  is  the 
same  thing,  to  deny  its  relation  to  justice  and  moral  government,  and  to 
make  its  essence  to  consist  in  example  rather  than  substitution,  is  not  so 
much  to  misunderstand,  as  unintentionally,  no  doubt,  but  really,  to  con- 
tradict the  Scripture.  This  great  doctrine  is  the  life's  blood  which  sends 
warmth,  vitality,  and  action  through  the  whole  body  of  truth.  Take  away 
this,  and,  to  my  perception,  you  leave  nothing  but  a  corpse.  It  is  the 
key-stone  in  the  arch  which  locks  the  whole  in  beauty  and  firmness. 
Remove  this,  and  the  whole  becomes  a  heap  of  ruin.  It  is  the  one  per- 
vaduig  idea  that  unites  all  parts  of  the  Bible  in  harmonious  teaching. 
Blot  oiit  this,  and  all  that  remains  is  incoherent  and  unmeaning  as  the 
leaves  which  the  sybil  scattered  to  the  wind. 

And  let  us  not  be  satisfied  with  a  counterfeit  atonement  which  retains 
the  word,  but  rejects  the  idea  of  which  it  is  the  sign.  Even  the  Pan- 
theists of  Germany,  the  wildest  of  them  all,  have  in  some  cases  couched 
their  rampant  infidehty  under  Scripture  terms.  We  must  have  not  only 
evangelical  words,  but  evangelical  ideas.  Atonement  does  not  signify  a 
moral  effect  upon  us  by  the  death  of  Christ,  but  a  moral  purpose  toward 
God.  It  means,  if  it  mean  any  thing,  a  vindication  and  illustration  of 
the  divine  justice,  as  well  as  the  manifestation  of  mercy  in  the  pardon  of 
the  transgressor.  It  means,  under  the  Christian  dispensation,  the  same 
in  reference  to  moral  guilt,  that  it  meant  under  tlie  Jewish  dispensation 
in  reference  to  ceremonial  oifenses ;  and  in  this  latter  it  necessarily 
implied  substitution  and  sacrificial  efiicacy,  not  merely  in  the  Avay  of 
producing  the  reformation  of  the  offender,  but  of  procuring  pardon  of  his 
offense.  We  are  sometimes  told  that  the  sacrificial  language  of  the  New 
Testament  is  all  used  figuratively  in  allusion  to  the  rites  and  ceremonies 
of  the  Levitical  economy.      Instead  of  this,  the  figure  was  in  the  Old 


TRUTH    AND    LOYZ.  523 

Testament,  and  tlie  real  truth  in  the  ISTew  Testament.  We  have  not 
gained  the  scriptural  idea  of  the  atonement,  or  propitiation,  for  this  is 
the  word  used,  till  we  have  admitted  the  idea  of  vicarious  sacrifice  as  a 
manifestation  of  justice. 

This,  beloved  brethren,  appears  to  me  the  truth  of  truths,  which  we 
must  bring  often  into  the  pulpit;  or  without  this,  Z should  feel  I  had  no 
busmess  in  it.  Another  doctrine  may  set  forth  a  Saviour,  but  I  can  see 
no  salvation  in  his  hands — may  exhibit  a  firmament,  but  it  is  with  a  ray- 
less,  freezing  sun,  or  rather  the  sun  in  total  eclipse — may  lift  up  the  pole, 
but  the  brazen  serpent,  the  remedy  for  the  venomous  bite,  is  not  there. 

How  truly  has  Dr.  Guthrie  said,  "  Here  at  the  cross  is  the  place  in  the 
great  universe,  from  which  God  and  his  attributes  may  be  best  beheld 
and  studied.  It  corresponds  to  that  one  spot  in  a  noble  cathedral  lying 
right  beneath  the  lofty  dome,  where  the  spectator,  commanding  all  the 
grandest  features  of  the  edifice,  is  instructed  to  look  around  him  if 
he  would  see  the  monument  of  its  architect.  I  scale  bartizan  or  tovrer 
to  embi-ace  at  one  view  the  map  of  a  mighty  city.  Or  I  climb  the  sides 
of  some  lofty  hill  to  survey  the  landscape  that  lies  in  beauty  at  its  feet. 
And  had  I  the  universe  to  range  over,  where  should  I  go  to  obtain  the 
fullest  exhibition  of  the  Godhead?  Shall  I  soar  on  angel- wings  to  the 
heights  of  heaven,  to  look  on  its  happiness  and  listen  to  angels'  hymns? 
Shall  I  cleave  the  darkness,  and  sailing  round  the  edge  of  the  fiery  gulf, 
listen  to  the  wail  and  weep  over  the  misery  of  the  lost  ?  No ;  turning 
from  these  sunny  heights  and  doleful  regions,  I  would  remain  in  this 
world  of  ours,  and  traveling  on  a  pilgrimage  to  Palestine,  would  stand 
beneath  the  dome  of  heaven  with  my  feet  on  Calvary.  On  that  conse- 
crated spot  where  the  cross  of  salvation  rose  and  the  blood  of  a 
Redeemer  fell,  I  find  the  cent(?r  of  a  spu'itual  universe.  Here  the  hosts 
of  heaven  descended  to  acquaint  themselves  with  God  in  Christ — here 
concentrated,  as  in  a  burning  focus,  his  varied  attributes  blend  and  shine." 
This  is  as  true  as  it  is  beautiful. 

And  now  I  ask  how  tuis  truth  should  be  preached.  Is  it  then 
really  necessary  to  ask  or  to  answer  such  a  question  in  reference  to  our 
ministry  ?  I  wish  it  were  not.  And  if  it  be,  how  devoutly  do  I  wish  a 
Chalmers,  a  Hall,  a  Pye  Smith,  or  Wardlaw,  were  here  to-night  to  make 
the  demonstration  instead  of  the  preacher  who  now  occupies  the  pulpit. 
"  Ye  glorified  immortals,  who  have  gazed  upon  the  Lamb  on  his  throne, 
and  see  in  heavenly  light  the  wonders  of  that  cross  in  which  your  noble 
intellects  gloried  upon  earth,  methinks  with  what  burning  words  you 
would  confound  that  affected  intellectualism,  and  shallow  philosophy,  and 
lawless  speculation,  which  some  are  now  putting  in  the  place  of  the  gos- 
pel of  our  salvation."  My  brethren,  think  you  they  would  not  say,  IIoio 
speak  the  truth  ?  Speak  it  dfjinitely  and  not  in  vague  generalities^  in 
dim  Tind  untraceable  outline,  in  cloudy  mistiness,  or  in  faltering  faith. 
Let  not  the  trumpet  give  an  uncertain  sound.     Let  the  cross  be  seen  in 


524-  JOH!^     ANGEL    JAMES. 

all  ks  magnitude  in  distinct  outline  and  cloudless  splendor,  clear  and 
bright  as  the  glorious  sun,  revealing  every  thing,  illuminating  every- 
thing, warming  every  thing.  If  any  thing  should  be  set  forth  so 
clearly  as  not  to  be  misunderstood,  and  so  constantly  as  not  to  be  for- 
gotten, it  surely  must  be  that  truth  by  which  immortal  souls  are  to  be 
saved  from  hell  and  raised  to  heaven.  To  render  this  indistinct  and 
liable  to  be  mistaken  or  overlooked  by  profound  intcllectuahsm,  philo- 
sophical abstractions,  excessive  elaboration,  redundant  rhetoric,  or  an 
affected  obscurity  of  style,  is  so  to  vail  truth  that  it  can  not  be  seen — or, 
changing  the  figure,  is  so  to  dilute  the  ehxii-  of  hfe  as  to  destroy  its 
potency  and  efficacy.  Let  us  not  merely  so  speak  the  truth  as  that  men 
may  understand  it,  but  so  that  they  shall  be  scarcely  able  to  misunder- 
stand it ;  so  as  that  the  most  perplexed  and  doubting  shall  go  from  our 
ministration,  exclaiming,  I  have  found  it. 

Would  not  these  glorified  spirits,  could  they  speak  to  us  from  their 
heavenly  abode,  charge  us  to  preach  the  truth  in  all  its  fullness  f  God 
deals  with  man  as  a  rational  creature,  and  both  removes  his  guilt  and 
renews  and  sanctifies  his  heart  through  the  medium  of  his  intellect, 
by  the  belief  of  the  truth.  Look  into  nature,  and  you  will  see  that 
vegetable  life  is  sustained  and  animal  life  invigorated  by  the  light  of  the 
sun.  So  in  the  world  of  grace,  sjjiritual  and  eternal  life  is  produced  and 
supported  by  the  light  of  truth  as  it  radiates  from  the  Sun  of  righteous- 
ness. Nor  is  it  by  any  kind  of  light  that  the  processes  of  nature  are 
carried  forward,  but  by  the  splendor  of  the  orb  of  day.  Kindle  millions 
of  torches,  illuminate  the  atmosphere  with  a  phosphorescent  conflagra- 
tion, adorn  the  heavens  with  the  coruscations  of  a  perpetual  aurora 
borealis — all  this  will  be  grand,  striking,  and  will  attract  attention  :  but 
not*  a  plant  \\dll  grow,  not  an  animal  wiB  thrive.  No — there  must  be 
the  light  of  the  sun,  or  there  will  be  no  life.  So  again  is  it  in  the  world 
of  grace.  Christ  said,  first,  "  I  am  the  truth ;"  then,  "  I  am  the  life." 
If  the  purposes  of  God's  mercy  toward  man  are  carried  out ;  if  sinners 
are  converted  to  God  ;  if  salvation  be  conveyed  to  lost  souls,  it  must  be 
by  the  instrumentality  of  the  truth.  There  may  be  the  earth-kindled 
fires  of  rhetoric,  the  phosphoresence  of  intellect,  the  aurora  borealis  of 
genius,  all  employed  about  vague  generalities  of  religion,  and  men  may 
be  gathered  in  crowds  to  admire  and  applaud — and  there  may  be  pro- 
duced a  kind  of  religious  feeling,  but  there  will  be  no  conversion  of 
souls — no  spiritual  life.  I  may  carry  the  analogy  still  further  between 
the  processes  of  nature  and  grace.  It  is  the  pure  white  light  of  the  sun 
in  all  its  simplicity,  as  it  streams  from  his  orb,  without  any  thing  to  dis- 
color or  dim  the  beam,  that  accomplishes  best  its  fertilizing  purpose  in 
vegetation.  The  most  beautiful  forms  in  which  the  conservatory  could 
be  constructed  might  add  grace  to  the  building,  but  not  power  to  the 
light;  and  the  most  splendid  hues  and  shapes  of  stained  glass  would 
rather  hindei  than  help  the  growth  of  the  plants.   Yes,  and  it  is  the  unob- 


TRUTH    AND    LOVE.  625 

structed  beams  of  the  great  luminary  of  tlie  spiritual  world — the  doo 
tiine  of  Christ  crucified  set  tbrth  in  its  scriptural  sublimity  and  simjilicity; 
that  will  accomplish  the  design  of  God  in  the  conversion  of  sinners. 
That  high  intellectualism,  that  philosopliical  cast  of  thought,  that  meta- 
physical abstraction,  that  excessive  elaboration,  and  love  of  novelty  and 
speculation,  which  too  many  of  the  preachers  of  the  present  day  are 
anxious  to  obtain — what  are  they  but  either  discontent  and  dissatisfac- 
tion with  the  pure  white  light  of  heaven's  sun  of  truth,  or  a  mistaken 
notion  that  it  is  by  human  intellect  rather  than  by  the  influence  of  the 
Spirit  that  the  gospel  is  to  become  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  ? 

When  therefore  it  is  recollected  that  the  truth  is  God's  instrument  for 
the  accomplishment  of  his  scheme  of  mercy  toward  this  lost  world  ;  that 
it  is  not  by  miracle,  nor  by  any  special  interposition  of  Providence ;  nor  by 
preachers  raised  from  the  dead  ;  nor  by  angel  missions  from  the  invisible 
world ;  but  the  truth  presented  to  the  mind  by  the  preacher,  or  the  book, 
that  is  the  means  by  which  souls  are  saved  ;  how  tremblingly  anxious 
ought  ministers  to  be  to  preach  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  I  may  al- 
most add,  nothing  but  the  truth.  Is  the  doctrine  of  the  cross,  I  ask,  the 
power  of  God  unto  salvation  ?  Are  men  begotten  to  God  by  the  truth — 
sanctified  by  the  truth,  comforted  by  the  truth — then  is  it  not  manifest  that 
ours  should  be  emphatically  the  preaching  of  the  cross  ?  Every  thing  in  our 
ministrations  should  be  full  of  Christ.  I  know  very  well  that  no  passage 
of  holy  Scripture  has  been  more  misunderstood,  more  abused,  more  per- 
verted, to  apologize  for  ignorance  and  indolence  ;  for  a  narrow  theology, 
and  a  stereotyped  phraseology,  than  that  noble  declaration  of  the  apos- 
tle, '•'' I  determined  to  knoio  nothing  among  you  hut  Jesus  Christ  and 
him  crucified^  The  cross,  ray  brethren,  in  itself  and  its  relations,  is  the 
center  of  a  circle  as  vast  as  the  circumference  of  the  Bible ;  its  diameter 
measures  from  the  first  verse  of  Genesis  to  the  last  in  the  Apocalypse. 
It  includes  the  law  and  the  prophets — ^the  gospels  and  epistles — the 
worlds  of  nature,  providence,  and  grace — all  history  from  the  creation 
to  the  conflagration — ^the  ministry  of  angels  and  the  agencies  of  men — 
all  sound  morality  in  principle,  motive,  and  practice.  O  no,  I  am  not 
shutting  up  your  talents  within  narrow  limits,  nor  cramping  your  genius, 
nor  adding  clogs  to  feet  eager  to  climb,  nor  hanging  weights  upon  wings 
impatient  to  soar.  I  have  been  more  than  fifty  years  a  student  and 
])reacher  of  the  cross,  and  I  am  going  off  the  stage  lamenting  how  little 
I  have  made  known  its  glories  ;  hoAV  much  of  its  depth  I  have  not  fatli- 
omed,  and  of  its  height  I  have  not  measured  ;  and  Avhen  I  close  my 
Bible,  as  I  must  do  ere  long,  it  will  be  with  a  deep  lament  that  I  have; 
left  so  much  of  it  unexplored,  untaught ;  and  the  same  lament  would  be 
made  by  a  Methuselah  at  the  end  of  nine  centuries  of  study  of  this  inex- 
haustible doctrine. 

Still,  dear  brethren,  there  must  be  a  meaning  in  the  apostle's  language. 
Yes,  Christ  must  be  in  our  prcachiiig  tlie  alpha  and  omega,  as  he  is  in 


526  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

the  Scrij^tures.  Learn  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  See  how  he  brought  Christ 
into  every  thing,  at  all  times,  and  on  all  occasions,  not  only  for  the  sal- 
vation of  sinners,  but  for  the  sanctification  of  believers.  Did  he  urge 
humility  and  regard  to  each  other's  welfare,  it  was  thus — "  Let  this 
mind  be  in  you,  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  who,  being  in  the  form  of 
God,  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God  :  but  made  himself  of 
no  reputation,  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant"  (Phil.,  ii.  5-7). 
Did  he  enjoin  benevolence?  it  was  thus — "Ye  know  the  grace  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for  your  sakes  became 
poor,  that  ye  through  his  poverty  might  become  rich"  (2  Cor.,  viii.  9). 
Forgiveness  of  injuries  ?  it  was  thus — "  Forgivmg  one  another,  even  as 
God  for  Christ's  sake  forgave  you"  (Ephes.,  iv.  33).  And  even  when 
enjoining  the  common  duty  of  conjugal  affection,  he  placed  husbands 
and  wives  before  the  cross,  and  called  upon  them  to  soften,  sanctify, 
and  cement  their  love  by  the  consideration  of  Christ's  love  to  them 
(Ephes.,  i.  25-27).  "The  artist  of  the  shield  of  Minerva  on  the  Par- 
thenon, did  not  more  effectually  work  in  his  name,  so  that  it  could  not 
be  efiaced  without  destroying  the  sculpture,  than  Paul  wrought  his  own 
name,  into  his  epistles  ?"  No,  but  the  name  of  his  divine  Lord.  So  let 
it  be  in  our  sermons.  Let  us  lay  a  broad,  deep,  solid  foundation  of  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and  upon  that  basis  raise  the  whole  superstruct- 
ure, and  a  lofty  one  too,  of  ethics  and  experience.  Let  our  discourses 
be  thus  redolent  with  the  odor  of  that  name  which  is  as  precious  oint- 
ment poured  forth,  and  then  we  ourselves,  and  only  then,  shall  be  a 
"  sweet  savor  unto  God,  both  in  them  that  are  saved  and  in  them  that 
perish." 

And  then,  my  brethren,  ought  not  the  truth  to  be  preached  with  the 
simplicity  that  is  in  Christ — in  its  own  dignified  and  divine  simplicity? 
I  say — not  wrapt  up  and  trammeled  in  philosophic  forms  of  dress — not 
couched  in  mystic  abstractions,  or  enumerated  in  new  fantastic  forms 
of  language,  coined  in  the  Carlyle  mint — but  set  forth  in  scriptural 
sentiment,  and  in  the  robust  manly  strength  of  our  good  old  Saxon 
language.  Some  of  our  ministers,  who  may  be  sound'  in  doctrine,  give 
occasion  by  their  style  of  writmg  for  suspicions  of  heresy ;  it  is  so  tinged 
with  mysticism,  so  wrapped  in  obscurity,  so  characterized  by  peculiarity, 
as  to  render  it  sometimes  difficult  to  shut  out  the  fear  that  there  is 
something  unsound  behind  this  semi-transparent  vail.  What  we  have 
to  preach  are  stupendous  facts,  which  are  most  powerfully  told  and 
most  powerfully  felt,  when  uttered  in  their  glorious  simplicity.  Some 
].reacliers  seem  anxious  to  carve  the  cross  with  a  splendid  rhetoric,  to 
render  it  less  repulsive  to  men  of  taste  ;  others  to  prop  it  with  hard 
logic,  to  secure  the  approbation  of  your  deep  thinkers ;  and  others  to 
hide  it  with  the  drapery  of  modern  philosophy.  It  is  all  a  foolish  at- 
tempt. The  power  of  the  magnet  gains  nothing  from  the  graver's  or 
tlie  gilder's  ait ;  its  attraction  lies  in  itself,  and  is  duninished  by  foreign 


TRUTH     AND    LOVE.  527 

accretions.  So  it  is  with  that  greatest  of  all  magnets,  of  which  Christ 
si^ake  when  he  said,  "  And  i",  if  I  be  lifted  up,  will  draAv  all  men  unto 
nic."  We  may  draw  men  to  ourselves  by  genius,  eloquence,  eccen- 
tricity, but  we  can  draw  men  to  Christ  only  by  the  attraction  of  his 
cross.  I  make  allowance  for  the  idiosyncracies  in  preachers  of  the 
human  mind.  Though  all  regenerated  hearts  are  cast  in  the  same 
mold,  sj)iritually  considered,  it  is  not  so  when  men  are  intellectually 
viewed.  It  was  not  so  with  the  prophets  or  apostles.  The  human 
element  in  their  writings  was  not  extinguished  by  the  di^dne.  Inspira- 
tion did  not  set  aside  or  shwt  out  variety  of  manner,  but  still  it  main- 
tained identity  of  matter.  It  is,  and  must  be  so,  with  preachers.  The 
living  creatures  of  the  apocalypse,  which  in  my  opinion  are  symbols  of 
the  ministry,  are  varied  in  form,  but  all  worship  the  same  object,  and 
are  one  in  sentiment  and  in  song.  So  that  the  cross,  in  all  its  brilliant 
splendors,  and  mighty  dimensions,  shall  be  clearly  and  constantly  seen  in 
our  sermons,  illuminating,  warming,  and  \'ivifying  all — diversity  of 
language  and  representation  may  be  admitted ;  though  even  this  has 
its  limits,  which  are  passed,  when  to  conciliate  men  of  cultivated  taste 
the  very  words  which  the  Holy  Ghost  teacheth  are  ignored,  and  others 
ultroduced  which  do  not  convey  the  grand  ideas  of  the  originals.  We 
hear  a  great  deal  about  discarding  technicalities.  Let  it  be  recollected 
that  all  other  sciences,  and  all  arts,  have  their  technicalities,  and  why 
should  not  religion  ?  If,  however,  by  technicalities  be  only  meant  ob- 
solete and  uncouth  terms  or  phrases  not  found  in  Scripture,  let  them 
be  relinquished,  but  not  Scripture  phraseology.  I  know  not  that  we 
have  need  to  be  ashamed  of  the  terminology — call  it  technicalities  if  you 
please — M'hich  satisfied  a  Hall  or  a  Chalmers,  a  Wardlaw,  a  Jay,  or  a 
Pye  Smith  ;  or  to  come  to  younger  men,  a  McAll,  or  a  Hamilton.  Dis- 
card the  words  of  the  New  Testament,  and  the  ideas  will  soon  follow. 
If  a  change  of  thought  produces  a  change  of  language,  it  is  equally  true 
a  change  of  Innguage  will  sometimes  bring  about  a  change  of  thought. 

If  the  truth  be  so  important  in  itself  as  a  revelation  of  God's  plan  and 
thoughts,  and  as  the  instrument  of  salvation  to  immortal  souls,  then  I 
ask  not  only  with  what  ^^rom/we^iee,  but  with  what  boldness^  earnestness, 
and  ■impressive?iess  ought  it  to  be  spoken !  It  must  be  with  no  cold 
hearts  or  careless  hands  ;  with  no  tame  indifference  and  sickly  luke- 
warmness,  we  touch  such  themes.  We  may  preach  the  truth  in  ser- 
mons clear  as  crystal  and  withal  as  cold.  We  may  deny  no  doctrine 
of  orthodoxy  and  class  ourselves  among  evangelical  preachers,  and  yet 
tliere  may  be  so  much  spurious  charity,  so  much  tolerance  of  error,  so 
much  supei'ficiality  of  conviction,  so  much  languor  of  zeal  concerning  the 
truth,  that  the  trumpet,  if  it  does  not  give  an  uncertain  sound,  sends 
forth  a  feeble  one,  which  seems  rather  the  lulling  notes  of  a  holiday 
song  than  the  loud  and  mighty  blast  which  calls  the  hosts  to  the  con- 
flict, and  inspires  their  hearts  with  the  courage  of  heroes. 


528  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

I  conjure  you  to  consider  whether  in  a  case  where  salvation  and  con- 
demnation are  concerned,  indifference  and  lukewarmness  are  not  treason 
to  God  and  the  souls  of  men,  and  whether  even  some  enthusiasm  is  not 
loyalty  to  one  and  mercy  to  the  other  ?  We  hold  that  man  is  respon- 
sible to  God  for  his  belief,  and  that  men  may  be  lost  by  a  wrong  creed 
as  well  as  a  wrong  practice.  Hear  the  apostle,  "Though  we,  or  an 
angel  from  heaven,  preach  unto  you  any  other  gosj^el  than  that  we  have 
preached  unto  you,  let  him  be  accursed"  (Gal,,  i,  8)  :  and  then  to  give 
weight  to  his  anathema  and  cause  it  to  sink  deej^er  into  the  souls  of 
those  for  whom  it  w^as  intended,  he  repeats  the  curse.  This  was  not  an 
outburst  of  unsanctified  passion,  a  sulphurous  enthusiasm,  the  ebulhtion 
of  an  inflamed  imagination,  a  fanatical  zeal.  It  was  the  cool,  deliberate 
dictate  of  a  man  of  tenderness  and  tears.  It  was  more,  they  were  the 
words  of  one  who  wrote  as  he  was  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  Hear 
also  the  language  of  the  apostle  of  love :  "  Whosoever  transgresseth  and 
abideth  not  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  hath  not  God.  If  there  come 
imto  you  any  who  brings  not  this  doctrine,  receive  hun  not  into  youi 
house,  neither  bid  him  God-speed,  for  he  that  biddeth  him  God-speed  in 
a  partaker  of  his  evil  deeds."  (2  John  9-11.)  Is  this  the  spirit  of  the  age 
in  which  we  live  ?  What  bigots  would  these  apostles,  uttering  such 
words,  have  been  accounted,  by  the  liberals,  had  they  lived  in  our  days ! 
If  truth  be  any  thing,  it  must  be  a  great  thing.  If  truth  be  a  blessing, 
error  must  be  a  curse.  If  truth  saves,  error  must  destroy.  And  the 
friends  of  truth  might  learn  something  from  the  abettors  of  error.  Are 
they  lukewarm,  torpid,  silent,  inert  ?  Look  at  infidels,  look  at  Roman 
Catholics,  look  at  the  Mormonites,  Friends  of  the  Redeemer,  preach- 
ers of  the  cross,  shall  lukewarmness  be  found  only  in  our  camp  ?  Shall 
we  be  the  only  troops  that  advance  to  the  great  conflict  between  truth 
and  error,  with  timid  hearts  and  faltering  steps  ?  Shall  we  who  are  led 
by  the  Captain  of  Salvation,  who  march  with  the  banner  of  the  cross 
floating  over  our  heads,  whose  war-cry  is,  "  Worthy  the  Lamb" — shall  we 
think  little  of  the  contest,  by  thinldng  little  of  the  truth  ?  O  !  let  us 
from  this  day  adopt  afresh  the  boast  of  the  apostle,  and  swear  to  one 
another  and  to  God,  that  we  mil  glory  only  in  the  cross  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  Whatever  was  the  fact  with  Constantine,  whether  it  were 
a  sign  from  heaven,  or  only  a  vision  of  imagination,  to  us  it  is  a  reality 
— the  cross  is  seen  in  our  heavens,  and  the  well-known  inscription,  "  By 
this  conquer,"  ^s,  or  ought  to  be,  read  by  us. 

I  believe  the  great  body  of  our  ministers  still  hold  fast  these  momen- 
tous truths.  But  I  will  not  conceal  my  apprehensions,  and  they  are  pain- 
ful ones,  that  a  few  of  our  young  ministers,  in  their  anxiety  to  avoid  a 
stereotyped  phraseology,  which,  if  the  change  be  confined  to  this,  would 
not  be  mischievous,  are  in  some  danger  of  giving  uj)  tndhs  which  were 
stereotyped  nearly  eighteen  centuries  ago  upon  the  page  of  revelation, 
and  were  intended  by  the  Author  of  inspiration  to  be  stereotyped  there 


TRUTH    AND    LOVE.  529 

for  all  ages  and  all  generations.  It  is  an  age  of  libei-alism  and  independ- 
ent tliinking,  and  this  is  finding  its  way  into  our  ministry  to  such  an  ex- 
tent, that  in  the  anxiety  to  get  out  of  the  old  and  deep  ruts,  some  add 
tlie  danger  of  getting  off  the  rails.  Captivated  by  the  genius  or  tlie 
eloquence  with  which  religious  novelties  are  advocated  in  the  present  day 
by  men  of  unquestioned  talent,  whose  theology  consists  of  half-truths, 
and  whose  defective  views  are  set  forth,  somewhat  mistily  it  is  true,  yet 
in  a  seductive  style  of  earnestness,  our  young  ministers  are  in  danger  of 
following^  them,  and  in  some  cases  are  perhaps  following  them,  in  their 
aberrations  from  the  Une  of  orthodoxy. 

A  negative  theology — I  scarcely  like  to  use  a  phrase  so  bandied  about, 
yet  it  is  a  very  expressive  one,  and  I  can  find  no  substitute  for  it — is 
almost  sure,  if  it  be  long  maintained,  to  end  in  positive  heresy.  If  the 
ground  be  not  occupied  by  the  plants  of  truth,  the  weeds  of  error  will 
be  sure  to  spring  up.  And  I  confess  that,  without  being  panic-stricken 
at  all,  I  see  many  things  which  way  soever  I  look,  that  make  me  serious 
and  sad.  There  is  in  some  quarters,  if  not  among  us,  yet  in  other 
places,  a  mischievous  operation  going  on  of  chipping,  and  filing,  and 
eddng  away  Christian  truths,  until  they  square  themselves  to  their 
places  in  modern  philosophies.  But  all  these  attempts  "  to  render 
'Pauline  notions'  into  the  graceful  equivalents  of  'modern  thought,' 
give  us  a  philosophy  which  philosophers  may  weU  scoff  at,  and  a 
theology  which  biblical  theologians  ought  to  denounce,  as  little  better 
than  covered  atheism,"  The  whole  evangelical  church  is  coming  into  a 
crisis,  and  all  the  great  verities  of  religious  belief,  which  we  thought 
had  been  settled,  are  going  to  be  tried  over  again.  May  God  carry  us 
and  all  others  safely  through  the  crisis !  The  most  learned,  the  most 
logical,  and,  I  may  add,  the  most  useful  of  the  apostles,  rejecting  all 
adventitious  aids,  determined  to  know  nothing  but  Christ  and  him  cru- 
cified. And  he  is  no  philosopher,  think  of  himself  as  he  may,  who  does 
jiot  perceive  the  adaptation  of  this  subject  to  produce  spiritual  effects. 
Talk  they  of  genius,  what  genius  can  select  a  theme  for  its  brightest 
coruscations  as  replete  vtath  all  that  is  dazzling  as  the  cross  ?  Talk  they 
of  eloquence,  at  what  fount  can  eloquence  drink  in  such  inspiration  as  is 
supplied  by  the  cross  ?  One  gush  of  evangelical  truth  from  a  heart  con- 
strained by  the  love  of  Christ,  and  uttered  in  words  of  light  and  pathos, 
has  more  power  over  an  audience,  and  moves  the  deepest  feelings  of 
the  human  heart  with  a  more  irresistible  foi-ce,  than  could  the  splendors 
of  Tully,  or  the  thunders  of  Demosthenes.  Beloved  brethren,  what 
iverc  the  petty  dissensions  of  Greece,  or  tlie  invasion  of  Philip,  or  the 
treason  of  Catiline,  as  a  theme  for  an  orator,  compared  with  that  which 
you  carry  to  the  pulpit,  and  which  you  handle  Avhcn  you  take  your 
station  at  the  cross  Mith  heaven  opening  above  you,  hell  moving  be- 
neath yon,  eternity  spreading  out  before  you,  and  a  crowd  of  immortal 
souls,  each  having  an  interest  in  these  tremendous  realities,  as  the  ob- 


530  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

ject  of  your  address,  and  their  everlasting  interests  pressing  upon  your 
hearts  ? 

Secondly. — I  now  go  on  to  consider  what,  according  to  the  text, 
should  be  the  spirit  of  our  ministry,  Speahing  the  truth  in  love.  In  the 
temple  of  God,  the  altars  of  truth  and  love  stand  side  by  side,  and  no  one 
is  called  or  qualified  to  minister  at  the  former  who  does  not  also  officiate 
at  the  latter.  Is  there  a  word  in  any  language  invested  with  such  at- 
tractions as  LOVE  ?  And  this  is  Christianity,  whether  objectively  or 
subjectively  viewed.  The  New  Testament  is  adorned  with  its  beauty, 
and  redolent  with  its  fragrance.  God  is  love.  Christ  is  love.  Heaven 
is  love.  So  is  religion.  The  love  mentioned  in  the  text  is  the  same  as 
that  which  the  apostle,  in  the  most  elegant  and  eloquent  personification 
ever  drawn,  even  by  an  inspired  pen,  has  set  forth  in  the  thirteenth 
chapter  of  the  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  and  to  which  allusion  v/ill 
presently  be  made :  not  love  to  God,  though  that  is  the  basis  of  it ;  nor 
exclusively  love  to  the  brethren,  though  they  are  the  primary  objects 
of  it^but  love  to  man  as  man — a  deUght  in  happiness  and  an  intense 
desire  to  promote  it : — one  of  the  fruits  of  regenerating  grace,  and 
nourished  by  a  sense  of  God's  love  to  us ;  and  therefore  not  mere  good 
nature — not  a  scentless  wild  flower  blooming  in  the  wilderness  of  man's 
unrenewed  heart,  but  a  heavenly  exotic  planted  by  God's  own  hand,  in 
the  garden  of  a  converted  soul — the  spiritual  passion-flower,  growing 
on  Calvary — the  divine  creeper  which  entwines  for  support  around  the 
cross.  This  is  practical  religion,  so  far  as  our  fellow-creatures  are  con- 
cerned— a  virtue,  a  grace  for  which  there  can  be  no  substitute. 

Observe  now  the  relation  of  love  to,  and  its  connection  with,  the  truth. 
It  is  congruous  in  its  nature,  perfectly  homogeneous;  for  as  we  have 
shown,  all  the  doctrines  of  truth  are  the  manifestations  of  love.  Con- 
sequently love  is  the  offspring  of  truth,  and  as  charity  is  the  daughter  of 
truth,  so  zeal  is  the  daughter  of  love.  Truth  with  all  its  greatness  and 
glory,  is  but  a  means  to  an  end,  and  that  end  is  love  ;  even  as  man's  in- 
tellectual nature  is  subordinate  to  his  moral  one.  Religious  truth,  though 
of  an  infinitely  higher  nature  than  all  other  truths,  will  do  us  no  more 
good  than  they,  as  long  as  it  remains  in  the  intellect,  and  does  not  sanc- 
tify the  heart.  If  truth  be  the  mantle  of  the  renewed  soul,  love  is  the 
golden  clasp  that  fastens  it  and  keeps  it  on.  The  truth,  I  know,  is  to  be 
loved,  first  for  its  own  sake,  but  chiefly  for  its  purpose  and  tendency  to 
make  us  holy.  Hence  the  prayer  of  Christ  for  his  Apostles,  "Sanctify 
them  by  thy  truth  ;  thy  word  is  truth !"  The  love  of  truth,  apart  from 
its  design  to  make  us  holy,  is  the  germ  of  antinomianism.  Viewed  sei> 
arately  from  its  philanthropic  and  sanctifying  power,  even  the  truth  may 
become  an  object  of  idolatrous  regard.  It  is  the  adaptation  of  a  piece  of 
machinery  to  accomplish  some  great  and  good  result,  and  not  merely  its 
skillful  construction,  that  constitutes  its  claim  to  admiration. 

How  beautifully  is  this  set  forth' by  the  celebrated  Cudworth  in  his 


TRUTH    AND    LOVE.  531 

Bernion  before  the  House  of  Commons  in  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth. 
"  O  divine  love !  The  sweet  harmony  of  souls !  The  music  of  angels ! 
The  joy  of  God's  own  heart!  The  very  darling  of  his  bosom!  The 
source  of  true  hapj^iness  !  The  pure  quintessence  of  heaven,  that  which 
reconciles  the  jarring  principles  of  the  world  and  makes  them  all  chime 
together,  and  melts  men's  hearts  into  one  another !  See  how  St.  Paul 
describes  it,  and  it  can  not  but  enamour  your  affections  tow^ard  it. 
'  Love  suffereth  long  and  is  kind — envieth  not — is  not  puffed  up — doth 
not  behave  itself  unseemly — seeketh  not  her  own — ^is  not  easily  provoked 
— thinketh  no  evil — rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth — 
beareth  all  things — believeth  all  things — hopeth  all  things — endureth  all 
things.'  I  may  add  in  a  word,  the  best-natured  thing,  the  best-com- 
plcxioned  thing  in  the  world.  Let  us  express  this  sweet,  harmonious 
affection  in  these  jarring  times,  that  so,  if  possible,  we  may  tune  the 
world  to  better  music.  Especially  in  matters  of  religion,  let  us  strive 
with  all  meekness  to  instruct  and  convince  one  another.  Let  us  endeavor 
to  promote  the  gospel,  the  dove-like  gospel,  in  a  dove-like  spirit.  This 
was  the  way  in  which  the  gospel  was  first  proi:)agated  in  the  world. 
Christ  did  not  cry  nor  lift  up  his  voice  in  the  streets :  a  bruised  reed  he 
did  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  he  did  not  quench,  and  yet  he 
bi  jught  forth  jiidgment  unto  victory.  He  whispered  the  gospel  to  us 
fvom  Mount  Sion  in  a  still,  small  voice,  and  yet  the  sound  thereof  went 
out  quickly  through  all  the  earth.  The  gospel  tit  first  came  doA\ni  softly 
upon  the  earth  like  the  dew  upon  Gideon's  fleece,  and  yet  it  quickly 
soaked  quite  through  it,  and  doubtless  this  is  still  the  most  eftectual  way 
to  promote  it  further  :  sweetness  and  ingenuousness  will  more  command 
men's  minds  than  passion,  sourness,  and  severity,  as  the  softest  pillow 
sooner  breaks  the  flint  than  tlie  hardest  marble.  Let  us  speak  tlie  truth 
in  love  ;  and  of  the  two  indeed  be  content  to  miss  the  conveying  of  a 
speculative  truth  than  to  part  with  love.  When  we  would  convince  men 
of  any  error  by  the  force  of  truth,  let  us  withal  pour  the  sweet  balm  of 
love  upon  their  heads.  Truth  and  love  are  the  two  most  powerful  things 
in  the  world,  and  when  they  both  go  together,  they  can  not  easily  be 
withstood.  The  golden  beams  of  truth  and  the  silken  cords  of  love 
twisted  together,  will  draw  men  on  with  sweet  violence  whether  they 
will  or  no." 

If  you  are  not  tired  of  Cudworth,  I  will  give  you  also  the  next  pariv 
graph  of  this  wonderful  sermon,  which  is  so  much  better  than  any  tiling 
I  could  say  that  I  shall  not  scnqile  to  give  it,  though  rather  long. 

"  Let  us  take  heed  we  do  not  sometimes  call  that  zeal  for  God  and  his 
gospel,  which  is  nothing  else  than  our  own  stormy  and  tempestuous  pas- 
sion. True  zeal  is  a  sweet,  heavenly,  and  gentle  flame  which  maketh  us 
active  for  God,  but  always  witliin  the  s])herc  of  love.  It  never  calls  fire 
from  heaven  to  consume  those  that  difter  a  little  from  us  in  tlieir  own 
apprehensions.  It  is  like  that  kind  of  lightning  which  philosophers  speak 


532  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

of,  that  melts  the  sword  within,  but  singeth  not  the  scabbard ;  it  strives 
to  save  the  soul,  but  hurtcth  not  the  body.  True  zeal  is  a  lovmg  thing, 
and  makes  us  always  active  to  edification  and  not  destruction.  If  we 
keep  the  fire  of  zeal  within  the  chimney,  in  its  own  proper  place,  it  never 
doth  any  hurt,  it  only  Avarmeth,  quickeneth,  and  enliveneth  us ;  but  if  we 
once  let  it  break  out,  and  catch  hold  of  the  thatch  of  our  flesh  and  kin- 
dle our  corrupt  nature,  and  set  the  house  of  our  body  on  fire,  it  is  no 
longer  zeal,  it  is  no  heavenly  fire,  but  a  most  destructive  and  devouring 
thing.  True  zeal  is  an  ignis  lamhens^  a  soft  and  gentle  flame,  that  will 
not  scorch  our  hand ;  it  is  no  predatory  and  voracious  thing ;  but  carnal, 
fleshly  zeal  is  like  gunpowder  set  on  fire,  that  tears  and  blows  up  all  that 
stands  before  it.  True  zeal  is  like  the  vital  heat  in  us,  that  we  live  upon, 
which  we  never  feel  to  be  angry  or  troublesome,  but  though  it  gently 
feed  upon  the  radical  oil  within  us,  that  sweet  balsam  of  our  natural 
moisture,  yet  it  lives  lovingly  with  it,  and  maintains  that  by  which  it  is 
fed ;  but  that  other  furious  and  distempered  zeal,  is  nothing  else  but 
a  fever  in  the  soul.  To  conclude,  we  may  learn  what  kind  of  zeal  it  is 
that  wc  should  make  use  of  in  promoting  the  gosjDel,  by  an  emblem  of 
God's  own,  given  us  in  the  Scriptures,  those  fiery  tongues  which  on  the 
day  of  Pentecost  sat  upon  the  apostles — which  sure  were  harmless  flames, 
for  we  can  not  read  that  they  did  any  hurt,  or  that  they  did  so  much  as 
singe  a  hair  of  their  heads." 

And  if  any  thing  more  need  be  added,  it  is  this  one  remark,  that  the 
zeal  is  not  truly  Christian,  which  is  not  concentrated  in  the  first  place 
upon  religious  truth,  for  the  sake  of  religious  life,  and  expressed  in  a 
spirit  of  religious  charity.  The  flame  of  this  holy  passion  is  fed  with  the 
oil  of  love,  and  not  with  the  alcohol  of  unsanctified  passion,  and  it  is  a 
flame  which  the  higher  it  rises  in  ardor,  the  more  it  trembles  with  hu- 
mility and  meekness.  The  zealot  in  religion  should  ever  seek  to  be  a 
seraph,  or  one  as  nearly  allied  to  him  as  possible. 

Is  it  not  most  lamentably  clear  from  the  testimony  of  ScrijDture,  as  well 
as  from  the  records  of  ecclesiastical  history,  and  the  evidence  of  our  own 
observation,  perhaps  even  of  our  own  experience,  that  love  is,  and  has 
ever  been,  the  most  wanting  of  any  of  the  Christian  graces,  even  where 
we  should  expect  to  see  it  enthroned  in  majesty  and  ruling  with  power, 
I  mean  the  Christian  church  ?  And  yet,  it  is  asked,  what  do  we  see  in 
Christendom?  A  vast  complication  of  ecclesiastical  machinery,  churches 
estal)lished  and  churches  unestablishcd,  to  keep  men  in  the  trammels  of 
sectarianism ;  a  vast  accumulation  of  doctrines  to  be  believed,  duties  to 
be  performed,  and  rites  to  be  observed ;  a  vast  array  of  Biblical  learning 
and  criticism,  in  which  every  word  is  examined,  weighed,  and  defined. 
We  have  creeds,  confessions,  liturgies,  prayer-books,  catechisms,  and 
forms  of  faith  and  discipline.  We  have  bishops,  priests,  pastors,  and 
teachers.  We  have  councils,  convocations,  synods,  conferences,  assem- 
blies, and  other  ecclesiastical  bodies,  without  number.     We  have  com- 


TRUTH    AST)    LOVE.  533 

mentaries,  reviews,  magazines,  religious  newspapers,  and  journals  of  all 
kinds,  and  thousands  upon  thousands  of  religious  books,  from  the  four- 
page  tract  to  the  quarto  volume.  We  have  cathedrals,  chui-ches,  chapels, 
and  schools — in  short,  a  wondrous  and  complicated  mass  of  means,  in- 
strumentalities, and  agencies — hut  where  is  our  charity  ?  All  these 
things  are  but  means  to  an  end,  and  that  end  is  charity  out  of  a  pure 
heart,  a  good  conscience,  and  fllith  unfeigned.  Where,  amid  all  this  im- 
mense and  costly  paraphernalia  of  Christianity  is  the  exemplification  of 
that  charity  without  which  all  these  things  are  but  sounding  brass  and  a 
tinkling  cymbal  ?  Where  is  it  in  our  sermons  and  our  religious  literature  ? 
You  and  I  know  thousands  of  volumes  on  faith  and  hope ;  but  I  know  of 
only  one  work,  and  that  by  no  means  worthy  of  the  subject,  on  "  Chris- 
tian Charity." 

How  is  this  ?  How  is  it  that  the  greatest  of  the  Christian  graces 
should  receive  the  least  attention  ?  The  principal  cause  is  the  diffi- 
culty of  its  exei'cise.  Men  love  an  easy  as  well  as  a  cheap  religion ; 
and  a  religion  that  flatters  their  pride  and  pampers  their  self  righteous- 
ness. Hence  it  is,  that  many  are  prone  to  substitute  ritualism  for  the  re- 
ligion of  the  heart,  a  mere  externalism  for  that  internal  warfare  which 
the  gospel  calls  its  professors  to  carry  on  without  intermission  against 
the  inbred  sms  of  the  soul ;  while  others  find  it  an  easy  matter  to  be  act- 
ive in  the  manifestation  of  public  spii'it,  compared  vnth  the  great  work 
of  crucifying  the  flesh,  with  its  aflfections  and  lusts ;  yet  we  can  not  be 
Christians  unless  we  have  the  mind  of  Christ — the  pure,  loving,  gentle 
mind  of  Christ.  Is  it  easy  to  love  our  enemies,  and  bless  them  that  curse 
us  ?  Is  it  easy  to  repress  all  the  vengeful  feelings  of  the  heart,  so  promptly 
and  indignantly  rising  to  repel  assaults,  to  retaliate  injuries,  and  to  repay 
insult  with  insult  ?  Is  it  easy  work  to  carry  out  the  law  of  charity  which 
"  suftercth  long,  and  is  kind"  even  to  those  unkind  to  us  ? — "  which  en- 
vieth  not"  the  superiority  in  possession,  rejiutation,  success,  of  others — 
"  which  seeketh  not  her  own,"  but  yields  ujs  her  preference  for  the  good 
of  others,  and  is  content  to  surrender  any  thing  but  principle  for  peace 
— "which  does  not  behave  unseemly"  as  a  Christian,  toward  any  one,  in 
action,  word,  or  manner — "  which  vaunteth  not  itself,  and  is  not  pufied 
up,"  but  is  humble,  meek,  and  modest — "which  thinketh  no  evil"  of 
others,  and  is  ever  ready  to  impute  a  good  motive  till  a  bad  one  is 
proved — "  which  rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,"  even  when  committed  by  a 
foe,  but  "rejoiceth  in  the  truth,"  when  it  is  seen  adorning  his  char- 
acter, and  strengthening  hi§  cause — "which  covereth  all  things"  that 
are  faulty,  with  the  mantle  of  love,  instead  of  magnifying  or  proclaim- 
ing them — "which  believeth  all  things"  to  the  credit  of  another — 
"  hopeth"  where  there  is  not  evidence  to  establish  conviction — and 
"  endureth  all  things,"  in  the  way  of  labor,  sacrifice,  and  self-denial  ? 
Such  is  love  ;  and  if  this  be  easy,  there  is  nothing  difficult  in  our  world. 
Easy !    Why  we  are  ready  to  say — "  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?" 


534  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

If  this  be  Christianity — "Who  then  can  be  saved?"  "With  man  it  is 
impossible,  but  with  God  all  things  arc  possible.  Nothing  but  omnipotent 
grace  can  enable  such  proud  selfish  hearts  as  ours  to  practice  this  virtue. 

Here,  then,  is  the  cause  of  the  scarcity  of  love — its  difficulty.  It  is 
easy  to  pray,  easy  to  hear  sermons,  and  easy  to  feel  under  them  ;  easy  to 
some  to  give  money,  time,  labor,  for  public  societies ;  easy  to  be  a  pas- 
sionate Churchnian,  Methodist,  or  Dissenter ;  easy  to  be  zealous  for  a 
church  or  a  creed  ;  yes,  and  even  easy  to  practice  bodily  austerities  ;  in 
short,  easier  to  do  any  thing,  than  to  love^  in  the  scriptural  meaning  of 
the  term.  And  yet  we  must  love  or  give  up  all  pretensions  to  be  Christ- 
ians ;  for  the  apostle  tells  us  that  the  eloquence  of  men  and  angels  can 
be  no  substitute  for  it ;  nor  the  most  wonder-working  faith ;  nor  the 
m.ost  diffusive  charity ;  nor  the  torments  of  martyrdom.  Instead  of 
allowing  its  difficulty  to  deter  us  from  it,  we  should  on  that  account  with 
a  noble  heroism  set  ourselves  to  cultivate  and  practice  it.  We  should 
consider  it  our  religion,  our  calling,  our  great  business.  It  is  the 
evidence  of  true  faith ;  the  first-fruit  of  the  Spirit ;  the  proof  and 
badge  of  our  discipleship ;  the  identifying  law  of  Christ's  kingdom ;  the 
brightest  ornament  of  our  j^rofession  ;  the  last  evidence  of  the  Saviour's 
divine  mission. 

And  where  should  we  look  for  the  brightest  and  most  beautiful  exem- 
pUfications  of  this  grace  but  to  the  pulpit,  where  every  grace  of  our  holy 
religion  should  be  exhibited,  not  only  in  the  sermons  but  in  the  character 
of  the  preacher.  He  himself  should  be  an  incarnation  of  love  ;  a  living 
embodiment  of  this  seraphic  virtue.  It  is  not  enough  that  he  should  be 
rigidly  just,  or  spotlessly  chaste,  or  invariably  true ;  he  must  follow  also 
the  whatsoever  things  that  are  lovely.  He  is  the  teacher  of  a  religion 
whose  richest  grace  is  love  ;  and  he  must  himself  be  a  pattern  of  the 
rehgion  which  he  promulgates.  If  he  be  of  a  hard,  austere,  and  crabbed 
temper  naturally,  he  must  take  pains  with  himself  to  mollify  his  disjDOsi- 
tion.  He  tells  his  hearers  that  gi-ace  does  little  for  a  man  if  it  does  not 
subdue  and  control  his  temper  ;  and  he  must  therefore  show  them  that 
this  is  practicable  by  letting  them  see  how  it  has  subdued  his.  And  then 
he  must  carry  this  spirit  into  his  ministrations.  He  must  appear  in  the 
pulpit  as  one  who  has  just  come  from  communing  with  a  God  of  love, 
and  whose  whole  soul  has  been  transformed  into  the  divine  image. 
Love  should  sparkle  in  the  tear  of  his  eye,  smile  in  the  radiance  of  his 
countenance,  and  speak  in  the  tones  of  his  voice.  The  sermons  should 
not  only  come  to  the  hearer's  intellect  with  all  the  clearness  of  truth, 
but  to  his  heart  with  all  the  warmth  of  the  preacher's  love.  The  audi- 
ence must  feel  that  the  preacher  loves  them.  He  must  draw  them  with 
the  cords  of  love  wliich  are  the  bands  of  a  man. 

The  history  of  the  church  has  proved  that  of  all  means  of  conversion 
the  most  insinuating  and  successful  is  the  exhibition  of  the  love  of  Jesus ; 
but  then  the  manner  of  preaching  must  be  in  harmony  with  the  matter. 


TRUTH    AND    LOVE.  535 

Perhaps  I  may  be  referred  to  the  apostles  of  our  Lord,  and  to  tho 
beloved  and  loving  John  among  the  rest,  who  wanted  fire  from  heaven 
to  consume  their  enemies.  Yes,  but  on  the  day  of  Pentecost  they 
received,  even  as  they  needed  it,  the  baptism  of  another  spirit.  "There 
and  then  these  Elishas  found  the  mantle  of  their  ascended  Lord.  Had 
it  been  otherwise — had  they  not  been  made  of  love,  as  well  as  mes- 
sengers of  love — had  not  the  love  they  preached  breathed  in  every  tone 
and  beamed  in  every  look — had  they  not  illustrated  in  their  practice  the 
genius  of  the  gospel,  their  mission  had  been  a  signal  failure ;  they  had  never 
opened  the  hearts  of  men — they  had  never  made  their  way  in  a  resistant 
world — never  conquered  it.  Just  as  it  is,  not  Avith  stubborn,  but  pliant 
iron  that  locks  are  picked,  the  hearts  of  sinners  are  to  be  opened  only 
by  those  who  bring  a  Christ-like  gentleness  to  the  work ;  and  who  are 
ready  with  Paul's  large,  loving,  kind,  and  generous  disposition,  to  be  all 
things  to  all  men,  if  so  be  they  may  win  some.  Never  had  the  disciples 
gone  forth  conquering  and  to  conquer,  had  they  brought  their  old, 
bigoted,  quarrelsome,  unsanctified  temper  to  the  mission.  They  might 
have  died  for  Christianity,  but  she  had  died  with  them  ;  and,  bound  to 
their  stake,  expiring  in  their  ashes,  she  had  been  entombed  in  the  sepul- 
cher  of  her  first  and  last  apostles."  And  then  when  all  her  ministers  in 
the  pul})it,  and  her  followers  in  the  pews,  the  whole  body  of  her  disci- 
ples, shall  be  seen  adorning  her  doctrines  of  truth  with  the  beauties  of 
holiness,  which  are  in  fact  the  beauties  of  love,  she  will  bring  down  from 
heaven  the  answer  of  the  Redeemer's  prayer,  -and  thus  present  to  the 
world  her  last  and  strongest .  evidence  of  her  heavenly  origin,  and 
achieve  her  brightest  victory  upon  earth.  Before  her  seraph  form,  infi- 
delity, like  Satan  before  Ithuriel,  will  stand  abashed,  and  feel  "  how 
awful  goodness  is." 

Nothing  hinders  or  imperils  love  more  than  controversy.  This  tries 
the  spirits  of  what  sort  they  are ;  and  alas !  for  the  discoveries  of 
unsanctified  temper  which  this  test  has  often  brought  out.  Controversy 
can  not,  ought  not,  to  be  silenced.  What  is  Christianity  but  a  controversy 
with  all  the  false  religious  and  false  principles  in  the  world  ?  We  are 
commanded  "  to  contend  earnestly  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the 
saints."  As  long  as  Error  is  in  the  field,  stalking  like  Goliath  before  the 
armies  of  Israel  and  challenging  them  to  the  combat,  Truth  must  go 
forth  to  meet  it,  like  David,  in  simplicity  of  intention,  strength  of  heart, 
and  dependence  upon  God  ;  but  only  with  its  own  weapons,  the  sling 
and  the  stone  of  meekness  and  love.  Silence  would  be  often  treason 
against  truth.  This  glorious  deposit  in  the  church  of  God,  when  assailed 
must  be  defended,  and  defended  to  the  last.  Nor  must  truth  act  merely 
on  the  defensive  ;  it  is,  and  must  be,  essentially  aggressive.  Whatever 
ruins  men's  souls,  or  injures  their  jiiety,  must  be  attacked,  and  if  ])ossible 
vancjuished.  Peace  may  be  bought  too  dearly.  I  have  no  sym])athy 
with  those  who  would  hush  controversy  by  the  voice  of  conciliation,  and 


536  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

sacrifice  theology  to  charity.  No,  no,  we  must  not  be  afi-aid  of  defend- 
ing truth  against  error,  lest  we  should  be  accused  of  violating  the  spirit 
of  reUgion  for  the  sake  of  its  truths.  We  must  not  be  frightened  from 
our  convictions,  or  hindered  from  defending  or  promulgating  them,  by 
the  maudlin  spirit  which  calls  orthodoxy  bigotry,  and  earnestness  for 
truth  fanaticism.  It  is  a  stale  trick  to  call  good  things  by  bad  names, 
and  thus  raise  a  prejudice  against  them.  We  are  not  of  those  who 
would  vilify  and  dismiss  doctrines  as  dogmas.  The  man  who  for  the 
sake  of  ease,  or  under  the  influence  of  fear,  would,  without  resistance, 
see  truth  ojiposed,  or  even  neglected,  is  a  traitor  or  a  coward.  A  dis- 
honorable peace,  say  many,  is  less  desirable  than  a  just  war.  Whether 
this  holds  good  or  not  in  the  politics  of  this  world,  it  is  true  to  the 
letter  in  the  contest  between  truth  and  error. 

And  should  we,  my  dear  brethren,  be  called  to  contend  against  error 
for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,"  how  careful  should  we  then  be 
to  speak  the  truth  in  love.  How  sad  and  solemn  is  it,  that  Charity 
should  so  often  have  been  seen  to  come  bleeding  and  weeping  from  the 
controversies  of  brethren,  and  uttering  the  bitter  lament :  "  These  are 
the  wounds  I  have  received  in  the  house  of  my  friends."  Is  it  not  for  a 
lamentation  and  woe,  that  the  bitterest  controversies  have  been  those 
carried  on  about  religion,  as  if,  when  contending  for  truth,  love  should 
be  ordered  off  the  field,  and  malice,  wrath,  and  all  uncharitableness,  have 
been  called  in  to  take  her  place  ? 

I  am  aware  there  is  a  spurious  thing  called  charity,  which  is  but  a 
bantling  of  infidelity,  whose  creed  and  whose  song  are  contained  in  the 
adage  of  a  free-thinking  Roman  Catholic  poet : 

"  For  modes  of  faith  let  graceless  zealots  fight, 
His  can't  be  wrong,  whose  life  is  in  the  right;" 

and  which  means,  that  all  creeds  are  equally  true,  and  therefore  equally 


The  man  who  fights  for  truth  in  wrath  and  dogmatism,  is  almost  sure 
to  defeat  himself  That  truth  which,  when  couched  in  the  language, 
and  accompanied  with  the  appeals,  of  affection,  finds  such  welcome  into 
the  hearts  of  men,  hath  often  brought  upon  its  propounders  the  reaction 
of  stout,  indignant  hostility,  just  because  of  the  stern  intolei-ance  where- 
with it  hath  been  proposed  to  them,  which  makes  it  of  the  utmost  prac- 
tical importance  that  neither  the  pride  nor  the  jiassions  of  men  should 
mingle  in  the  discussion,  when  laboi'ing  eithei"  with  or  against  each 
other.  Too  much  has  it  prejudiced  the  cause  of  truth  in  the  world,  that 
it  has  been  so  often  urged  and  insisted  on  with  that  wrath  M'hich  work- 
eth  not  the  righteousness  of  God.  Passion  and  pride,  wrath  and  anger, 
sarcasm  and  irony,  are  all  unsuitable  to  truth  ;  they  are  not  homogene- 
ous, but  antagonistic.  Just  so  far  as  the  heart  is  wanting  in  love,  it  is 
wanting  in  truth.     To  love  in  fiict  is  a  part  of  truth.     It  is  as  true  that  I 


TRUTH    AND    LOVE.  537 

•ira  to  love,  as  it  is  that  I  am  to  believe.  Opinions  may  be  in  the  head 
and  upon  tlie  lips ;  but  opinions  alone  are  not  truth,  only  its  corpse  :  liv- 
ing truth  includes  love. 

It  has  been  somewhere  said,  that  if  a  botanist,  when  traveling,  had 
'lost  the  knowledge  of  his  exact  locality  at  the  time,  both  as  to  longitude 
and  latitude,  he  would  be  able  at  once  to  ascertain  his  geographical 
})osition,  by  the  discovery  of  a  certain  plant  or  flower  which  he  knew 
was  to  be  found  only  in  that  particular  spot.  In  like  manner,  as  love  is 
a  flower  indigenous  to  the  church  of  Christ  and  growing  nowhere  else 
on  earth  but  there,  a  spirit  from  another  world  knowing  this  fact,  would 
also  be  able,  when  he  lighted  on  our  globe,  to  ascertain  that  he  had 
reached  the  fellowship  of  Christians,  if  by  no  other  means,  yet  by  seeing 
this  blessed  agape  in  full  bloom  and  fragrance.  But  were  he  to  arrive 
in  our  country,  and  to  survey  our  denomination,  just  at  this  time,  would 
he  conclude  that  he  had  reached  the  native  place  of  holy  love  ?  Or  at  any 
rate  Avould  he  not  lament  to  see  this  heavenly  exotic  sickly,  shriveled, 
and  withering  in  the  deadly  shade  of  our  envenomed  controversy  ?  Hav  e 
not  we  told  the  world  in  books  and  sermons  that  this  flower  f?t>es  flourish 
in  the  communion  of  saints  ?  And  is  this  the  way  in  which  we  convuice 
men  that  our  representation  is  true  ?  Alas,  alas !  How  long  shall  we  give 
them  occasion  to  convert  the  testimony  of  Julian,  so  honorable  to  the 
early  disciples,  "  See  how  these  Christians  love  one  another,"  into  bitter 
irony,  and  compel  them  to  say,  "  Yes,  look  at  their  controversies  and 
contentions ;  read  their  envenomed  pamphlets ;  hearken  to  their  angry 
A-ituperations ;  behold  their  hostile  separations ;  and  see  how  indeed  they 
love  one  another !" 

Let  us  then  cleai-ly  understand,  and  bear  in  constant  recollection,  that 
the  religion  of  Christ  consists  pre-eminently  of  truth  and  love,  and  that 
this  is  the  highest  possible  commendation  it  could  receive,  since  nothmg 
can  rise  higher  than  these  sublime  characteristics.  These  ai'e  never  to  be 
sejoarated.  While  we  maintain  the  substance  of  truth  in  its  totality  and 
symmetry,  we  must  be  anxious  to  cultivate  and  breathe  the  spirit  of 
love.  Time  and  events  have  developed  in  many  quarters  a  strong  tend- 
ency to  separate  these  two  elements.  Some  are  very  zealous  for  what 
they  maintain  to  be  the  truth,  at  the  utter  sacrifice  of  love.  AVho  can 
i-ead  the  pages  of  ecclesiastical  history  and  not  be  convinced  of  this  ? 
IIow  soon  was  the  spirit  of  primitive  Christianity,  and  subsequently  of 
the  Reformation,  transformed  into  an  angry  controversy  about  dog- 
matic theology !  How  fiercely  did  the  combatants  contend  for  confuta- 
tions of  doctrines,  definitions  of  mysterious  truths  and  abstruse  opinions, 
])hraseology  not  found  in  Scripture,  and  points  beyond  the  circle  of 
divine  revelation,  and  for  verbal  conformity  to  these  human  standards! 
What  a  spectacle,  mournful  and  humiliating,  was  presented  by  the 
churches  of  antiquity,  when  the  dew  of  their  early  youth  had  passed 
away,  and  a  fiery  zeal  for  dogmas  everywhere  blazed,  in  which  liberty 


OoS  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

and  love  expired  together  !  Bishops,  churches,  sects,  and  councils  were 
seen  fulminating  excommunications  and  hurling  anathemas  against  each 
other  for  refusing  to  accept  as  infalUble  their  respective  statements  and 
definitions  of  doctrines,  and  bow  to  each  other's  decisions  on  disputed 
points.  What  else  than  zeal  for  truth,  at  the  expense  of  love,  is  the 
spirit  of  pei'secution  which,  by  turns,  nearly  all  the  sects  of  Christendom 
have  evinced?  What  are  the  towers  of  the  Popish  Inquisition  but 
the  pretended  throne  of  truth  erected  over  the  dungeon  of  imprisoned 
love  ?  What  the  flames  of  its  auto-da-fe  but  the  stake  erected  by  a  dis- 
tempered zeal  for  truth,  in  the  fires  of  which  love  is  consumed  to  ashes  ? 
What  are  any  and  all  restrictions  of  religious  liberty,  and  every  kind  of 
pains  and  penalties,  inflicted  for  religious  opinions,  but  the  immolation 
of  love  at  the  shrine  of  truth?  And  to  come  still  closer  to  the  spirit  and 
practice  of  multitudes  in  our  own  times,  who  woiild  shrink  from  the 
charge  of  persecution,  what  else  than  this  is  the  ardor  of  sectarianism, 
which  lives  in  surly  ahenation,  and  even  bitter  hostility,  toward  others, 
on  the  ground  of  ecclesiastical  polity  or  ritual  observances  ?  Let  me  see 
a  professing  Christian  look  askance  at  his  fellows,  or  passing  them  with 
the  scowl  of  religious  bigotry,  because  they  subscribe  not  to  his  creed  in 
all  points,  and  there  I  recognize  a  man  who  with  his  hand  holds  up  what 
he  conceives  to  be  truth,  but  who  with  his  heel  tramples  upon  love. 

But  then  there  is  another  error  on  the  opposite  side,  into  which  they 
fall,  who  contend  for  charity  at  the  expense  of  truth,  and  whose  charity, 
indeed,  is  indifierence  to  religious  sentiments  altogether.  They  would 
erect  a  modern  Christian  Pantheon  on  the  ruins  of  the  temple  of  truth, 
where  all  religions,  as  in  the  ancient  Pagan  one,  should  live  and  worship 
in  harmony  and  peace.  This  latitudinarian  liberalism,  which  is  in  fact 
treason  against  truth,  is  eminently  characteristic  of  the  age  in  which  we 
live.  It  is  seen  in  this  country,  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  and  in 
America.  It  permeates  our  journalism,  our  philosophy,  our  criticism, 
our  politics,  our  very  theology.  It  is  more  dangerous  and  more  mischiev- 
ous than  an  open  infidelity.  It  smiles  with  fawning  obsequiousness  on 
all,  and  frowns  on  none  but  the  man  who  contends  earnestly  for  the 
faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints.  It  is  the  Pantheism  of  the  moral 
world,  and  by  making  all  opinions  in  some  fashion  to  be  truth,  makes 
none  of  them  be  as  such.  In  pi-oportion  as  men  recede  from  their  con- 
victions of  the  importance  of  scriptural  doctrine,  they  sap  the  very  found- 
ations of  personal  godliness,  lower  the  tone  of  morality,  and  enfeeble 
the  exercise  of  Christian  philanthropy.  Truth  is  the  nerve  of  charity  ; 
and  it  may  be  known  by  consulting  the  page  of  history,  that  the  great- 
est heroism  of  benevolence  has  ever  sprung  from  the  martyr-spirit  of 
faith  in  truth. 

I  am  particularly  anxious  to  leave  upon  your  muids  the  impression, 
that  the  essence  and  virtue  of  the  world  consists  of  truth  and  love 
united.     It  is  not  truth  alone,  nor  love  alone,  but  the  two  in  union.     As 


TRUTH    AND     LOVE.  539 

in  chemical  substances,  compounds  possess  properties  of  their  own,  dif- 
ferent from  those  of  their  elements  when  separated,  so  it  is  with  truth 
and  love :  apart,  they  act  one  way ;  united,  they  act  another  way. 
Their  properties  undergo  a  change  by  intimate  combination.  Truth, 
without  love,  would  be  a  set  of  mere  diy  and  barren  notions ;  or,  if 
fruitful,  prolific  only  m  pride  and  self  conceit.  And  love,  without  truth, 
would  degenerate  into  simple  sentimentalism  and  unmeaning  emotion — 
a  vague  impulse,  without  roots  to  nourish,  or  principle  to  guide  it.  But 
blended,  they  form  a  beautiful,  an  eflective,  a  holy,  a  blessed  union  ;  and 
they  act  and  re-act  upon  each  other.  Truth,  fully  and  cordially  embraced, 
and  faithfully  mamtained,  swells  the  tide  of  love  in  the  heart,  directs  its 
course,  discriminates  its  objects,  and  guides  its  application ;  while  love, 
in  energetic  action,  throws  a  luster  and  warmth  uj^on  truth  that  makes 
it  more  captivating  to  the  understanding  and  precious  to  the  heart. 
"  What  God  hath  joined  together  let  no  man  put  asunder." 

And  now,  my  beloved  brethren,  let  us,  on  returning  to  our  own 
homes,  carry  with  us  into  our  various  spheres  of  action  a  still  fii-mer 
adherence  to  the  truth,  and  a  more  resolute  determination  to  cultivate 
the  s]»irit  of  love.  Let  us  all  press  closer  to  the  cross,  to  catch  more  of 
the  spirit  of  him  that  died  upon  it.  Not  abating  one  jot  or  tittle  of  our 
orthodox  faith,  not  yielding  ourselves  to  a  sickly  and  sickening  luke- 
warmness,  but  for  truth  exhibiting  the  courage  of  heroes  and  the  con- 
stancy of  martyrs ;  let  us  manifest  at  the  same  time  the  docility  of 
children,  and  the  gentle  fervor  of  seraphs.  While  -with  eagle  vision  and 
pinion  we  soar  to  higher  and  higher  altitudes  in  the  regions  of  truth, 
and  bathe  our  wings  in  the  flood  of  celestial  radiance  poured  from  the 
Sun  of  righteousness,  let  us  at  the  same  time  cherish  the  dove-Uke  spirit 
of  Christian  charity. 

We  should  all  have  clearer  views  of  truth,  if  we  had  a  greater  influ- 
ence of  love.  In  spiritual  matters,  as  well  as  in  some  others,  the  heart 
to  a  considerable  extent  influences  and  guides  the  judgment;  and  dispo- 
sition prepares  us,  according  to  its  nature,  to  see  or  lose  the  force  of 
evidence.  "  If  any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine, 
whether  I  speak  of  myself"  In  these  impressive  and  instructive  words 
our  Lord  has  taught  us  that  feeling  aftects  thinking.  And  Avho  can 
doubt  it  ?  When  the  pupils  of  an  ancient  sage  asked  their  master  what 
they  should  do  to  get  winged  souls,  such  as  might  soar  aloft  in  the 
bright  beams  of  truth,  he  bade  them  bathe  themselves  in  the  waters  of 
life :  and  upon  their  asking  what  these  were,  he  told  them  the  four  car- 
dinal virtues,  Avhich  are  the  four  rivers  of  Paradise.  We  are  traveling, 
or  profess  to  be,  to  heaven,  which  is  the  region  and  the  home  of  both 
truth  and  love  ;  and  we  that  by  age  and  infirmity  are  drawing  near  to 
it,  seem  to  anticipate  more  intensely,  and  to  feel  more  sensibly,  than  we 
once  did,  the  raptures  that  Avill  be  produced  by  the  perfection  of  the 
truth  and  the  consummation  of  love ;  just  as  sailors  approaching  the 


540  JOHN    ANGEL    JAMES. 

spice  islands,  they  inhale  the  precious  odors  which  are  wafted  on  the 
wings  of  the  breeze  from  groves  of  oranges  and  trees  of  cinnamon. 
Let  us  all  look  up  to  that  blessed  world  and  be  ever  preparing  for  it, 
where  the  tree  of  knowledge  grows  fast  by  the  tree  of  life  ;  and  the 
foiTner,  drawing  its  sap  from  the  same  source,  shall  yield  only  fruit  that 
is  as  healthful  as  it  is  pleasant  to  the  taste  and  fair  to  the  eye.  In  that 
glorious  state  where  all  good  things  live,  and  shine,  and  flourish,  and 
ti-iumph  forever,  the  supreme  beauty,  glory,  and  excellence  is  love.  All 
are  brethren,  and  all  are  loved  as  brethren.  All  are  divinely  amiable 
and  excellent  friends.  Every  one  possesses  the  hohness  that  is  loved, 
and  the  complacency  by  which  it  is  loved.  There  every  one,  conscious 
of  being  entirely  lovely  and  entirely  beloved,  reciprocates  that  same  love 
to  that  great  multitude  which  no  man  can  number,  of  all  nations,  and 
kindreds,  and  tongues,  which  fills  the  immeasurable  regions  of  heaven. 

As  for  myself,  I  can  not  expect  at  my  age  to  meet  you  many  more 
times.  I  am  on  the  border  country,  and  drawing  near  the  close  of  a 
lengthened  pastorate  of  labor,  and,  through  unmerited  grace,  one  of  no 
small  share  of  success  and  comfort.  It  is  a  matter  of  deep  sorrow  to 
me,  to  see  in  the  evening  of  my  days  such  a  cloudy,  troubled,  and 
stormy  horizon  of  our  denomination.  In  the  hope  of  doing  something 
to  calm  and  harmonize  the  minds  that  are  chafing  one  another,  and  dis- 
tressing us  all,  I  have  endeavored  thus  to  throw  oil  upon  the  agitated 
waters. 

I  know  not  that  I  can  better  finish  this  too  long  discourse  than  m  the 
words  with  which  Bishop  Horsley  concludes  his  controversy  with  Dr, 
Priestley  :  "  The  probability,  however,  seems  to  be  that  ere  these  times 
shall  arrive,  if  they  shall  arrive  at  all,  which  we  trust  they  will  not, 
when  Sociniauism  shall  be  in  the  ascendant,  my  antagonist  and  I  shall 
both  be  gone  to  those  unseen  abodes,  where  the  din  of  controversy  and 
the  din  of  war  are  equally  unheard.  There  we  shall  rest  together  till  the 
last  trumpet  summon  us  to  stand  before  our  God  and  King.  That  what- 
ever of  intemperate  wrath  and  carnal  anger  hath  mixed  itself  on  either 
side,  with  the  zeal  with  which  we  have  pursued  our  fierce  contention, 
may  then  be  forgiven  in  both,  is  a  prayer  which  I  bi*eathe  from  the 
bottom  of  my  soul ;  and  to  which  my  antagonist,  if  he  hath  any  part  in 
the  spirit  of  a  Christian,  will,  upon  his  bended  knees,  say,  Amen." 


DISCOURSE    XXXVIII. 

BAPTIST    W.    NOEL,    M.    A. 

The  Hon.  and  Rev.  Baptist  Wriothesley  Noel  was  born  in  Leigthmont,  Scotland, 
July  10,  1799  ;  and  through  "both  his  parents  is  connected  with  .the  flower  of  North 
Britain's  nobility.  After  graduating  with  distinction  at  Cambridge  University,  and 
for  a  short  time  engaging  in  the  legal  profession,  he  became  the  subject  of  renewing 
grace,  and,  devoting  himself  to  the  ministry,  was  ordained  a  clergyman  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church  of  England,  and  in  1826  became  minister  of  St.  John's  Chapel,  in 
Beillbrd  Row,  London. 

For  twenty- two  years  Mr.  Noel  continued  the  faithful  and  affectionate  pastor  of 
the  congregation  of  St.  John's  Chapel ;  but  in  the  year  1848  he  seceded  from  the 
Established  Church,  and  united  with  the  Baptist  denomination  by  being  baptized 
into  the  fellowship  of  the  John  Street  Church,  London.  Not  long  after,  he  came  to 
the  pastorate  of  this  same  church,  which  position  he  has  since  filled  with  eminent 
success. 

For  several  years  previous  to  his  separation  from  the  Church  of  England,  Mr. 
Noel  had  borne  his  bold  and  uncompromising  testimony  against  some  of  the  leading 
tractarian  opinions  then  becoming  rife,  as  also  against  certain  tendencies  of  the  times, 
in  the  established  communion,  which  he  regarded  as  prolific  of  manifold  evils. 

Becoming  more  and  more  convinced  that  a  course  of  action  consistent  with  his 
conscientious  convictions  demanded  his  secession,  the  step  was  taken  at  however 
great  a  sacrifice.  He  had  been  appointed  Chaplain  to  Queen  Victoria,  had  possessed 
litvor  in  high  quarters,  and  might  have  anticipated  almost  any  position  of  honor  and 
emolument;  but  all  this  he  cheerfully  forsook  from  convictions  of  imperative  duty. 
The  gi-ounds  of  these  convictions  he  has  given  at  length  in  his  two  principal  works, 
"  Tlie  Union  of  Church  and  State,"  and  an  "  Essay  on  Christian  Baptism." 

The  following,  from  Mr.  Stevens's  Letters  from  Europe,  will  give  an  idea  of  Mr, 
Noel's  personal  appearance : 

"  Mr.  Noel  is  a  tall  but  slight  and  very  '  genteel'  looking  personage ;  he  comes  of 
an  old  English  '  noble  stock,'  as  his  title  indicates,  and  he  is  here  with  quite  a  circle 
of  titled  ladies  of  his  kindred.  His  features  are  very  symmetrical,  and  present  a 
really  beautiful  profile.  He  is  not  very  clerical  in  his  appearance,  and  wears  light 
checkered  pantaloons ;  he  has  light  hair,  light  blue  eyes,  and,  in  fine,  the  general  as- 
pect of  a  good,  rather  than  a  great  man.  I  have  been  much  pleased  with  him  in 
this  respect — in  committees,  where,  amid  the  petty  fastidiousness  and  superfluous 
details  of  men  who  would  show  their  business-talent  more  by  creating  difliculties 
than  by  controlHng  them,  he  was  always  intent  on  giving  a  practical  and  sensible 
direction  to  the  business  in  hand,  and  had  always  a  benign  suggestion  for  any  abrupt 


542  BAPTIST    W.     NOEL. 

outbreak  of  temper.  Baptist  Noel  is  one  of  the  best  and  most  agreeable  men  I  have 
met  in  Paris.     He  appears  to  be  not  older  than  forty-five  years." 

Mr.  Noel  is  not  a  man  of  masculine  mind ;  he  is  rarely  either  original  or  profound ; 
l3ut  his  matter  is  always  above  mediocrity,  and  its  excellence  is  more  equally  sus- 
tained than  that  of  the  great  majority  of  other  popular  preachers.  If  he  never 
dazzles  by  brilliancies,  he  never  suffers  the  attention  to  flag  by  descending  to  com- 
mon-place observations. 

Dr.  Tyng  says  of  him,  in  his  "  Recollections  of  England :" 

"  He  is  certainly  a  most  interesting  and  delightful  preacher ;  altogether  extempo- 
poraneous;  mild  and  persuasive  in  his  manner,  yet  sufficiently  impressive,  and 
sometimes  powerful,  having  a  very  clear  and  consistent  flow  of  thought ;  decidedly 
evangelical  in  doctrine,  though  less  deep  and  instructive  in  doctrine  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. His  great  beauty  of  appearance,  his  soft,  and  gentle,  and  musical  voice,  and 
his  dignity  of  manner  in  the  pulpit,  add  also  much  to  his  power  as  a  preacher. 
There  is  no  cause  for  wonder  in  the  popularity  of  such  a  man,  so  devoted,  humble, 
and  faithful,  among  all  who  love  the  truth  of  the  gospel.  There  is  no  clergyman  in 
London,  I  think,  who  has  greater  influence  in  the  religious  community,  and  certainly 
no  one  whose  ministry  and  character  unite  more  valuable  properties  and  qualifications." 

On  ordinary  occasions,  Mr.  Noel's  sermons  are  said  to  be  characterized  by  a  uni- 
form excellence.  Those  who  go  to  hear  him,  in  the  expectation  of  meeting  with 
something  strange  or  startling,  will  be  assuredly  disappointed.  His  eloquence  is 
like  the  course  of  a  calm  river,  gentle,  and  musical  in  its  flow.  From  the  moment 
he  commences  his  sermon,  until  its  conclusion,  embracing  usually  about  an  hour,  or 
an  hour  and  a  quarter,  there  is  not  the  slightest  impediment  or  interruption.  And 
his  voice  is  seldom  raised  above  the  pitch  in  which  he  commences ;  but  then  it  is 
too  musical,  and  too  gently  modulated,  to  be  monotonous.  His  sentences  are  care- 
fully constructed,  and  remarkably  smooth.  His  action  is  sUght  and  graceful,  and 
such  as  might  be  supposed  from  a  man  of  his  disposition. 

A  great  and  distinctive  feature  in  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Baptist  Noel,  is  his 
frequent  use  of  scriptural  quotations.  These,  whatever  be  the  topic  of  his  dis- 
course, are  most  felicitously  introduced,  and  he  excels  in  the  clear  presentation  of 
the  cardinal  doctrines  of  divine  truth.  It  is  a  fi-equent  remark,  that  no  one  could 
sit  any  great  length  of  time,  under  the  ministry  of  Mr.  Noel,  without  becoming  con- 
versant with  the  leading  truths  of  the  gospel.  The  following  is  as  favorable  a 
specimen  of  his  discourses  as  it  has  been  our  good  fortune  to  meet. 


THE  FAITH  THAT  SAVES  THE  SOUL. 

"  ■Whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation  through  faith  in  his  blood." — RoM.,  iii.  25. 

The  original  cause  of  the  justification  of  a  sinner,  is  the  absohite 
mercy  of  God  ;  the  meritorious  cause  of  a  sinner's  justification  is  the 
obedience  and  the  sufferings  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and  the  instru- 
mental cause  of  a  sinner's  justification  is  faith  in  that  Redeemer.  There 
is  but  one  original  cause — which  is  mercy ;  there  is  but  one  meritorious 
cause — and  that  is  redemption  by  Christ ;  and  there  is  but  one  instni- 


THE    FAITH    THAT    SAVES    THE    SOUL.  543 

mental  cause — aud  that  is  faith  in  Christ.  "  Whom  God  hath  set  forth 
to  be  a  propitiation  througli  faith  in  his  blood.'''' 

Let  us  look  to  God  the  Spirit,  who  alone  can  make  his  own  word 
profitable,  while  we  consider  what  is  the  nature  of  justifying  faith.,  the 
extent  to  which  it  justifies,  and  the  tnanner  in  which  it  justifies.  The 
wliole  statement  is  very  simple,  but  it  is  of  great  moment  to  every  single 
person  of  this  congregation.  It  is  of  the  last  consequence  to  us,  that  we 
not  only  know  what  the  faith  is,  but  have  it.  It  is  of  the  utmost  mo- 
ment to  you  and  me,  that  we  have  this  faith  ;  and  it  is  my  object,  in  the 
simple  exposition  which  may  follow  these  words,  to  lead  you,  as  an 
instrument  in  the  hands  of  the  great  God,  not  only  to  know  what  justi- 
fying faith  is,  but  to  have  it. 

Let  us  think,  first,  what  it  is  not :  because  this  may  enable  us  the  more 
clearly  to  observe  what  it  is. 

The  faith,  of  which  the  apostle  speaks  in  these  words,  through  which 
Christ  becomes  a  propitiation  for  any  indiAidual  sinner,  is  not  a  belief  in 
the  truth  of  the  fiict,  that  Christ  is  come,  or  that  the  New  Testament  is 
a  diA'inely  inspired  revelation  of  that  fact  and  its  consequences.  Because, 
faith  in  Christ  is  evidently  trust  in  Christ ;  it  is  the  meaning  of  the 
word.  No  man  can  pretend  to  have  faith  in  Christ,  and  not  trust  Christ ; 
just  as  a  person  could  not  pretend  to  have  faith  in  his  physician,  and  not 
ti-ust  his  physician.  But  a  person  may  believe  in  the  truth  that  Christ  is 
come,  and  may  believe  that  the  New  Testament  reveals  that  fict,  its 
cliaracter  and  its  consequences,  and  yet  have  no  trust  in  Christ,  and 
therefore  not  have  the  "faith  in  his  blood,"  which  is  spoken  of  here. 

It  is  not.,  further,  a  belief  in  the  truth  of  all  the  principal  doctrines  of 
the  gospel.  This  is  a  step  beyond  the  last ;  for  there  are  many  persons 
tliat  do  credit  the  gospel  to  be  a  revelation  from  God,  and  yet  know 
Httlo  of  the  doctrines  it  contains  ;  nay,  reject  most  of  its  doctrines.  But 
a  person  may  reject  none  of  them — may  admit  in  terms  their  truth,  see 
the  proofs  of  them  in  the  Scripture,  and  maintain  them  all,  and  yet  that 
person  may  have  no  faith  in  Christ.  Because,  Christ  has  come  to  offer 
salvation  to  us  as  sinners  ;  but  it  is  obvious  that  a  person  may  credit  the 
truth  of  these  doctrines  and  not  trust  in  Christ  to  save  his  soul.  And 
if  so,  he  is  an  unbeliever  ;  he  disbelieves  that  Christ  has  come  to  save 
his  soul.  He  may  be  destitute  of  all  trust  in  Christ,  and  yet  believe  the 
great  facts  of  the  gospel,  to  a  certain  degree  and  in  a  certain  sense. 
And  this  fixith  is  that  which  is  possessed  by  fallen  spirits,  who  know  very 
well  the  great  truths  of  the  gospel,  and  are  busily  engaged  in  opposing 
them  in  the  world.  That  which  a  man  only  shares  with  the  great  ene- 
mies of  God  and  man,  can  not  be  the  faith  which  saves. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  this  further  stage — the  state  of  a  per- 
son, who  believes  that  Christ  Jesus  is  able  and  willing  to  save  others, 
but  does  not  believe  in  Christ  as  about  to  save  him.  For  this  also  he 
shares  with  fallen  beings.     "  The  devils  believe  and  tremble"  when  they 


,5-Jt4  BAPTIST    W.    NOEL. 

think  that  Christ  has  come  to  save  others,  but  has  Dot  comfc  to  save  tbem  ; 
and  this  belief,  instead  of  teaching  them  to  love  Christ,  only  embitters 
their  hatred.  It  may  do  so  with  a  sinful  man,  and  consequently  is  not 
that  trust  in  Christ  which  will  save  him. 

And  again,  to  believe  in  our  own  personal  safety  through  Christ  is,  on 
the  other  hand,  9iot  justifying  faith.  Because,  many  an  ignorant  and 
criminal  enthusiast  has  believed  this,  while  his  whole  life  was  one  of  dis- 
obedience to  God's  commands,  and  of  manifest  enmity  to  God.  To 
believe  that  we  are  personally  safe,  that  we  are  the  elect  of  God  through 
Christ,  that  we  are  through  Christ  children  of  God,  and  the  favorites  of 
heaven,  and  sure  of  being  saved,  may  be  to  believe  a  falsehood — a  mere 
delusion.  It  may  be,  that  the  person  who  has  this  belief,  is  none  of 
those  things.  And  it  is  obvious  that  if  the  great  enemy  of  souls  could 
desire  any  thing  respecting  one  of  his  miserable  captives,  he  would 
mostly  desire  this ;  that  while  he  is  living  in  his  sins,  and  posting  down 
to  destruction,  he  should  be  perfectly  persuaded  that  he  was  one  of 
God's  elect,  a  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of  glory  through  Christ ;  be- 
cause, that  delusion  would  prevent  rej)entance,  and  would,  more  than 
any  thing  else,  deepen  and  perpetuate  his  sleep  of  sin. 

None  of  these  things  can  be  the  justifying  faith  of  which  our  text 
speaks.     But  justifying  faith  is — 

The  trust  which  a  sinner  feels  in  Christ,  to  save  him  from  hell,  as  a 
divine  Saviour,  in  the  method  he  has  revealed,  by  his  atoning  sacrilice, 
and  by  his  sanctifying  Spirit. 

This  is  justifying  faith.  Let  us  briefly  illustrate  its  various  character- 
istics. 

It  must  be  a  trust  in  Christ  to  save  ics.  We  must  see  that  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  able  and  willing  to  save  us.  Because,  my  brethren,  Christ 
is  come  for  this  purpose.  It  is  this  blessing  he  offers  to  us,  as  ruined  sin- 
ners. He  has  assured  you  and  me  that  he  is  able  and  wilUng  to  save  us. 
It  is  the  purpose  for  which  he  died — for  which  the  Bible  has  been  wiit- 
ten  ;  and  to  disbeheve  that,  would  be  to  disbelieve  one  of  the  very  prin- 
cipal truths  that  he  has  revealed,  the  principal  act  he  came  to  accom- , 
plish  ;  and  would  be,  not  faith,  but  unbehef  To  disbelieve  that,  is  not 
trust  in  Christ,  but  distrust  of  him ;  and  no  one  can  suppose  that  he  has 
justifying  faith  in  Christ  while  he  disbelieves  one  of  the  principal  tilings 
revealed  concerning  him.  As  we  have  seen,  to  disbelieve  that,  is  to  be 
in  the  condition  of  rebellious  and  apostate  sj^irits  ;  and  that  is  not  the 
trust  that  he  will  bless.  On  the  contrary,  to  believe  that  he  is  willing 
and  able  to  save  ?<s,  notwithstanding  all  our  guilt,  in  the  midst  of  all  our 
dangers,  Avith  the  sentence  of  God's  law  pronounced  against  us,  in  the 
face  of  an  obedience  required  which  we  can  not  pay,  in  the  sight  of  a 
disobedience  which  meiits  eternal  death — that  is  the  trust  he  asks  from 
us  all.  The  eternal  Son  of  God  demands  of  every  one  of  you,  and  of 
me,  that  we  do  individually  trust  hii'i  to  save  tis. 


THE  FAITH  THAT  SAVES  THE  SOUL.        5-16 

It  is,  in  tlie  next  place,  a  trust  in  him  to  save  us  from  hell.  If  we 
should  trust  Christ  to  save  us  from  any  thing  less,  this  would  not  be  to 
credit  the  great  truth  revealed  concerning  him.  AVe  do  in  fact  de- 
serve to  perish  ;  we  are  on  our  road  to  perdition,  till  that  blessed  mo- 
ment when  we  believe  on  Christ ;  God's  law  condemns  us,  and  gracious 
as  he  is,  he  will  certainly  execute  the  sentence  of  his'  law ;  from  that 
Christ  has  undertaken  to  save  us ;  and  to  disbelieve  that,  is,  again  I  say, 
to  be  an  unbeliever.  It  is  not  to  trust  him,  but  to  want  trust  in  him ; 
it  is  not  faith,  but  unbelief;  and  he  who  should  believe  any  thing  else 
of  Christ,  but  should  not  believe  that  he  is  able  and  willing  to  save  him 
from  hell — from  eternal  wrath — from  all  the  consequences  of  his  trans- 
gression— would  not  be  a  believer  in  Christ.  But  if  we  should  actually 
perish  without  Christ,  and  he  has  come  to  save  us  from  perishing,  as 
his  Avord  continually  declares,  then  we  deserve  it ;  for  the  Almighty 
could  not  inflict  upon  us  that  which  Ave  do  not  merit.  Hence,  to  be- 
lieve that  Christ  is  able  and  willing  to  saA'e  us  from  hell,  is  to  believe 
that  Ave  deserve  it ;  and  it  implies  the  conviction  on  our  parts,  that  we 
are  lost  without  him,  that  there  is  no  method  of  salvation  but  in  him, 
that  he  alone  stands  betAveen  us  and  everlasting  ruin,  that  if  God  gaA^e 
us  our  desert  individually,  Ave  individually  should  jjerish.  This  is  Avhat 
faith  in  Christ  implies ;  and  if  any  man  denies  that  of  himself,  does  not 
OAvn  it,  questions  it,  puts  the  thought  aside,  does  not  explicitly  and 
solemnly  confess  it  to  himself  and  God,  he  may  rest  assured  that  he 
has  no  faith  in  Christ.  He  may  believe  other  things  respecting  Christ ; 
but  the  great  truth  that  he  has  come  to  save  him  from  eternal  ruin, 
that  man  rejects. 

I  say,  again,  that  justifying  faith  is  the  persuasion  that  Christ  is  able 
and  Avilling  to  save  us  from  hell,  as  a  divine  iSaviotir.  Because,  he  can 
not  save  us  in  any  other  capacity.  If  Christ  were  a  mere  man,  his 
obedience  and  his  sufferings  could  no  more  save  us,  than  the  obedience 
and  sufferings  of  any  martyr,  like  Paul,  or  like  Bradford.  Christ's 
obedience  and  sufferings  Avould  be  no  more  rational  a  foundation  for  our 
hope,  Avere  he  but  a  man,  than  the  obedience  and  sufferings  of  other 
holy  men  ;  and  if  we  were  to  expect  to  be  saved  by  Christ  as  a  man, 
instead  of  exeroising  the  faith  he  looks  for,  Ave  should  be  unbelievers 
still.  For  the  truth  is,  that  his  love  passes  all  knowledge,  as  his  merit 
l)as3es  all  knowledge,  because  as  incarnate  God  he  died  in  our  stead. 
And  hence,  if  Ave  Avere  to  deny  this  of  him,  Ave  should  deny  the  prin- 
cipal truth  concerning  him.  We  may  call  ourselves  Christians  after 
denying  it,  but  we  have  altered  not  one  truth — as  men  pretend — we 
have  altered  the  Avhole  truth  respecting  the  gospel ;  fundamentally 
altered  it;  changed  the  Avhole  character  of  a  sinner's  trust;  swept 
away  at  one  fell  blow  all  those  powerful  motives  we  have  to  obedience 
and  love  ;  sentenced  man,  as  the  consequence  of  that  denial,  to  per- 
petual disobedience  and  enmity  to  God.     And  that  men  call  alterhig  one 

35 


546  BAPTIST    W.    NOEL. 

of  the  dogmas  of  Christianity !  No,  brethren  ;  if  we  do  not  rest  on 
Christ  as  a  divine  Saviour,  who  has  come  in  our  nature  to  rescue  us 
from  the  hell  we  merited,  we  have  no  justifying  faith  in  him.  It  is  such 
a  faith  as  Nero  had  when  he  heard  of  liis  crucifixion ;  such  a  faith  as 
Pontius  Pilate  had,  when  he  sentenced  him  to  death  ;  the  belief  that  he 
is  a  good  man  :  a  belief  which  does  him  infinite  dishonor.  To  believe 
in  Christ  so  as  to  be  saved,  is  to  look  to  him  to  save  us  from  hell  as  a 
divine  Sa^dour, 

I  say,  again,  that  justifying  faith  in  Christ  is  the  belief  in  him  as  a 
divine  Saviour,  to  save  us  in  the  method  he  has  himself  revealed,  by  his 
atoning  sacrifice  ;  or  rather,  by  his  redemption — by  his  obedience  and 
sufierings  on  our  behalf.  If  we  should  look  to  be  saved  in  any  other 
way  than  by  his  atoning  sacrifice,  we  should  essentially  mutilate  his 
gospel,  deny  his  claim,  and  discard  that  which  is  the  principal  founda- 
tion of  our  confidence  before  God.  The  word  of  God  declares,  that  we 
are  "justified  freely,  by  God's  mercy,  through  the  redemption  that  is 
in  Christ  Jesus."  To  believe  that  Christ  came  to  set  us  a  bright  ex- 
ample, and  to  give  us  wise  and  divine  counsels,  and  to  animate  us  with 
])owerful  motives  to  virtue,  and  there  to  end,  and  there  to  let  our 
foith  terminate,  is  to  deny  the  one  great  truth  revealed  in  all  this  book, 
for  Avhich  this  book  has  been  revealed — that  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
incarnate  God  in  our  nature,  died  in  our  place,  bore  the  punishment  we 
must  have  borne,  and  by  that  punishment  borne  in  his  person,  has  done 
away  the  necessity  that  we  should  sufifer  any  punishment.  If  we  ex- 
pected to  be  saved  in  any  other  way,  we  should  not  be  believing  God, 
but  believing  a  falsehood ;  we  should  not  then  be  trusting  Christ  to 
save  us  according  to  his  own  revealed  method,  but  in  another  method 
of  our  own,  which  would  dishonor  him,  and  be  a  reason  for  our  condem- 
nation, and  not  for  our  acceptance  before  God.  Hence,  justifying  faith 
is  a  dependence  on  Christ  to  save  us  by  the  merit  of  his  obedience  and 
his  sufierings. 

And  lastly,  justifying  fiiith  is  an  expectation  of  being  saved  by  him 
from  hell,  not  only  by  the  merit  of  his  atoning  sacrifice,  but  hy  the  poimer 
of  his  sanctifying  Spirit.  This,  again,  is  revealed  in  Scripture.  He  has 
told  us,  that  he  means  to  save  us  thus,  and  in  no  otRer  way.  He  has 
never  promised  a  person  to  save  him  in  sin,  but  he  has  declared  he 
means  to  save  us  from  sin.  He  has  not  said  that  he  would  save  us 
without  the  aid  of  the  Spirit,  but  by  giving  us  the  Spirit.  He  has  not 
told  us  that  he  will  save  us  without  the  exertion  to  which  grace  prompts, 
but  by  that  exertion.  There  is  no  Avord  of  Sciipture  which  states  that 
we  shall  be  saved  with  unholy  hearts,  but,  "  Without  holiness  no  man 
shall  see  the  Lord ;"  not  one  word  which  intimates  that  prayerless  habits 
will  conduct  us  to  glory,  but,  "  Whosoever  shall  call  on  the  name  of  the 
Lord,  shall  be  saved  ;"  and  so  on,  of  the  whole  circle  of  Christian  obliga- 
tion.    To  believe,  therefore,  that  Christ  will  save  us  without  making  us 


THE    FAITH    THAT    SAVES    THE    SOUL.  547 

holy,  and  without  conducting  us  to  loving  obedience,  is  to  believe  a 
falsehood  ;  it  is  to  deny  what  he  has  declared ;  it  is  not  to  trust  him — to' 
exercise  faith  on  him  :  for  faith  must  rest  on  his  word  ;  there  is  no  other 
foundation  for  it.  It  is  to  be  placing  a  presumptuous  confidence  in  a 
mischievous  and  criminal  delusion.     That  is  not  faith. 

To  believe  in  Christ  as  the  Saviour  of  our  souls  from  hell,  secures  obe- 
dience in  another  way,  and  leads  in  another  manner  to  a  supreme  love 
to  Christ ;  but  you  will  observe  that  it  not  only  leads  to  it — it  actually 
involves  it ;  because,  faith  in  Christ  involves  submission  to  his  will : 
just  as  faith  in  a  guide  involves  the  disposition  to  follow  him  ;  or  fliith 
in  a  commander  involves  the  readiness  to  march  and  fight  at  his  com- 
mand ;  or  faith  in  a  physician  the  determination  to  take  his  medicines. 
Should  a  man  be  lost  amid  dangerous  precipices,  and  not  know  how  to 
effect  his  escape,  and  a  guide  well  versed  in  the  mountain  paths  should 
jioint  out  the  road  of  safety,  and  assure  him  that  if  he  followed  it  he 
would  be  safe ;  faith  in  that  mountain  guide  would  lead  the  lost  pilgrim 
at  once  to  follow.  If  an  army  wei-e  surrounded  by  perils,  and  expecting 
to  be  destroyed,  but  their  commander  assured  them  that  he  would  point 
out  the  road  to  victory,  if  they  marched  under  his  orders  and  fought  at 
his  command  ;  faith  in  that  commander  would  lead  them,  necessarily,  to 
march  and  to  fight.  If  men  were  jDcrsuaded  that  their  physician  could 
save  them  by  the  remedies  he  prescribed,  fiiith  in  that  i^hysician  Avould 
lead  them  to  adopt  those  remedies.  In  every  instance  faith  has  thus  this 
practical  character  ;  leading  to  submission  to  those  methods,  which  the 
person  in  whom  we  trust  makes  the  conditions  of  safety.  And  hence,  to 
trust  in  Christ  for  our  salvation,  not  only  leads  to  loving  him  and  leads 
to  obeying  him,  as  it  most  certainly  does,  but  likewise  it  includes  in  the 
very  idea  of  it  the  placing  ourselves  absolutely  under  Christ's  care.  He 
offers  to  save  us  in  one  way,  and  to  trust  that  he  will  save  us  in  that 
way,  is  to  submit  to  that  way.  So  that  if  we  beUeve  in  Christ  to  save  us 
by  communicating  his  sanctifying  Spirit,  it  implies  that  we  seek  that 
Spirit;  if  we  believe  that  he  will  save  us  by  making  us  holy,  it  imphes 
tliat  we  consent  to  be  made  holy ;  if  we  believe  that  he  Avill  save  us  in 
the  course  of  obedience  to  God's  law,  it  implies  that  from  that  moment 
we  are  ready  so  to  obey.  Imagine  for  a  moment  the  contrary :  that  a 
person  should  believe  that  he  shall  be  saved  by  Christ,  while  he  resolves 
not  to  obey,  not  to  be  holy,  not  to  welcome  the  gift  of  his  Sjjirit ;  tlien 
he  would  believe  in  that  which  was  false,  instead  of  believing  in  Christ, 
for  Christ  has  never  promised  to  save  any  one  who  is  nourishing  those 
tempers. 

Thus  we  come  to  this  general  truth:  tLat  justifying  faith  in  Christ 
is  the  trust  that  any  one  feels  in  him  to  save  himself  from  eternal 
death,  as  a  divine  Saviour,  in  the  metliod  he  has  himself  revealed,  by  his 
atoning  sacrifice  and  by  his  sanctifying  grace. 

To  what  extent,  let  us  ask,  in  the  next  place,  does  the  possession  of 


54:8  BAPTIST    W.    NOEL. 

this  faith  justify  ?  "  Whom  God  hath  set  forth  to  be  a  propitiation 
through  faith  in  his  blood." 

I  have  often  dwelt  on  the  scriptural  proofs  of  this  point  in  our  subject ; 
I  shall  therefore  merely  remind  you  in  passing,  that  this  faith  is  spoken 
of  in  Scripture,  as  justifying  by  itself — as  the  one  sole  condition  of  justi- 
fication. "  Therefore  we  conclude,"  says  the  apostle,  in  a  verse  which 
follows  our  text,  "  that  a  man  is  justified  hy  faith^  without  the  deeds  of 
the  law."  This  justifying  faith  is  farther  declared  in  Scripture  to  secure 
the  acquittal  of  any  person  who  trusts  in  Christ.  It  is  not  the  less  guilty 
only,  but  the  most  guilty  may  secure  acquittal  and  safety  by  its  instru- 
mentality. As  the  apostle  here  tells  us  :  "  The  righteousness  of  God  is 
by  faith  of  Jesus  Christ  unto  all  and  upon  all  them  that  believe  ;  for 
there  is  no  difference."  The  worst  and  the  best — all  may  alike  be  justi- 
fied, upon  their  receiving  this  inestimable  gift  of  God ;  and  he  who 
believes  is  pardoned  and  accepted.  The  Scripture  no  less  declares,  that 
those  who  possess  this  justifying  faith  are  acquitted  of  all  their  sins,  and 
are  entitled  to  all  the  privileges  of  the  new  covenant.  "  By  him  all  that 
believe  are  justified  from  all  things."  The  justification  is  complete;  so 
that  a  sinner  is  accepted  as  though  he  were  perfectly  innocent,  becomes 
a  child  of  God,  and  is  adopted  by  his  love,  and  receives  all  the  blessings 
of  his  children,  including  preservation  by  his  power  and  grace,  and  then 
eternal  glory,  which  he  has  reserved  for  all  who  love  him  and  obey  him. 
And  again:  this  justifying  grace  secures  all  these  privileges  the  very 
first  moment  it  is  exercised.  As  there  is  nothing  else — nothing  what- 
ever— which  is  the  condition  of  justification,  therefore  years  of  obedience 
can  add  nothing  to  it.  The  moment  a  sinner  believes,  he  passes  from  a 
state  of  condemnation  into  a  state  of  justification.  The  dying  thief 
believed  upon  Christ,  and  he  merited  eternal  death,  and  was  within  a 
few  minutes  of  it,  but,  in  that  moment  when  he  believed,  all  his  sins  were 
pardoned,  and  at  once  Christ  said  to  him :  "  This  day  shalt  thou  be  with 
me  in  Paradise."  And  that  is  the  rule ;  that  is  what  must  ensue.  If  it 
be  true  that  faith  is  the  one  condition,  the  one  instrument  of  the  sinner's 
justification,  then  the  moment  he  possesses  that  one  instrument,  the  mo- 
ment he  has  fulfilled  that  one  condition,  he  is  a  justified  person.  To 
delay  it,  would  be  to  interfere  with  that  divinely-ordained  method  of 
justification  ;  it  would  be  to  bring  in  something  else  as  the  condition ; 
and  it  could  be  easily  shown,  that  the  introduction  of  any  delay  would  be 
the  dishonor  of  Christ.  If  faith  in  him  bo  the  one  appointed  condition, 
the  moment  that  any  sinner,  however  bladk  the  guilt  Avhich  he  has  con- 
tracted, does  rest  his  soul  upon  Christ  as  the  one  great  atoning  sacrifice, 
and  the  prevailing  intercessor,  that  moment  are  his  sins  obliterated,  and 
he  is  adopted  into  the  family  of  God. 

Lot  us  now,  in  the  last  place,  consider  for  a  moment  the  manner  in 
which  tliis  faith  justifies. 

We  have  already  seen  that  a  sinner  is  "justified  without  the  deeds  of 


THE    FAITH    THAT    SAVES    THE    SOUL.  549 

the  law;"  and  this  jii'oves,  not  merely  that  a  sinner  is  justified  without 
the  merit  of  the  law,  without  the  merit  of  works,  but  that  he  is  justified 
without  the  condition  of  works  ;  and  that  it  is  as  unscriptural,  to  declare 
that  faith  on  the  condition  of  works  justifies,  as  to  say  that  fixith  jusiifiea 
by  the  ment  of  Christ  and  the  merit  of  works.  There  is  no  condition  of 
works  ;  and  could  there  be,  it  must  be  obvious  to  the  dullest  understand- 
ing that  two  things  would  follow  :  first,  that  the  being  justified  by  works, 
as  a  condition  apjiointed  by  God  in  addition  to  that  of  faith,  would  so  far 
obscure  the  gloiy  of  the  Saviour,  through  Avhose  sole  merit  the  sinner  is 
accepted ;  and  next,  that  it  would  necessarily  and  invariably  lead  each 
person  to  trust  liis  own  works,  rather  than  Christ.  It  would  be  vain,  to 
tell  persons  that  there  was  no  merit  in  those  works,  but  that  their  works 
were  the  condition  of  justification,  just  as  their  faith  was;  inevitably  and 
necessarily,  they  would  attach  the  idea  of  their  justification  and  salvation 
to  those  works,  and  on  those  works  they  would  rest.  And  thus,  both  a 
siinier  would  be  separated  from  that  exclusive  confidence  in  the  merit  of 
Christ  which  he  ought  to  feel,  and  the  merit  of  Christ  Avould  be  neces- 
sarily obscured  by  the  very  fact  of  such  a  condition. 

God  has  made  no  such  condition.  The  one  condition  is  faith.  And 
since  the  Redeemer  is  the  sole  meritorious  cause  of  the  justification  of 
any  sinner,  we  see  that  it  must  be  becoming  and  fitting  in  the  Almighty, 
to  grant  the  sinner's  justification  in  such  a  way,  as  shall  give  Christ  all 
the  glory.  He  has,  therefore,  made  faith  the  sole  condition  ;  because  it 
is  most  obvious,  that  by  faith  as  the  sole  condition  does  Christ  receive, 
as  he  ought,  all  the  glory.  Let  a  sinner  trust  in  Christ  alone  for  his  sal- 
vation fii'om  eternal  death  ;  and  then,  placing  himself  as  a  ruined  creature 
under  Christ's  care,  it  is  what  you  might  expect  from  the  infinite  mercy 
of  that  gracious  Redeemer,  that  he  should  welcome  such  a  humble  pen- 
itent. "  Him  that  cometh  to  me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  If  we  apply 
to  Christ  for  salvation  Avith  no  other  plea  than  this,  that  we  are  ruined, 
and  he  is  a  miglity  and  a  gracious  Saviour.  Christ  asks  nothing  else. 
"What  else  should  he  ask  ?  An  atonement  ?  He  came  himself  to  atone. 
Holiness  and  love  ?  He  came,  not  to  find  them  in  the  rebellious,  but  to 
create  them  both.  He  asks,  therefore,  nothing  else ;  but  if  a  humbled 
sinner  feels  that  he  is  ruined,  and  applies  to  Christ  as  a  gracious  and 
mighty  Saviour,  to  rescue  him  from  eternal  death,  Christ  is  gracious 
enough  to  Avelcome  him.  He  becomes  Christ's  disciple ;  he  receives  all 
tlirough  Christ ;  and  as  a  humble  penitent,  renouncing  his  rebellion,  he 
both  acknowledges  his  own  ruin,  trusts  the  merits  of  the  Saviour  in  op- 
position to  a  trust  in  the  mere  mercy  of  God,  and  in  opposition  to  a  trust 
in  any  merit  of  his  own,  and  so  submits  to  Christ's  method  of  saving  him, 
and  jdaces  himself  under  his  domhiion,  to  be  sanctified  and  guided  from 
that  day.  For  such  Christ  intercedes  ;  welcoming  the  penitent  behever, 
who  gives  liim  all  tlie  glory,  he  now  intercedes  for  him  ;  and  God  accepts 
tjie  intercession;   and   that   penitent   believer   trusting   exclusively  to 


550  BAPTIST    W.     NOEL. 

Christ.^  is  welcomed  through  his  intercession.  Ai  the  same  time,  yon 
may  see,  that  when  a  person  thus  trusts  in  Christ  alone,  he  does  what  in 
him  lies,  to  proclaim  to  the  whole  world  around  him  his  sense  of  the 
enormity  of  sin,  which  could  be  pardoned  by  no  other  sacrifice  than 
Christ's;  and  his  sense  of  the  holiness  and  truth  of  God,  who  would  ad- 
mit him  on  no  other  terms  ;  and  his  sense  of  the  infinite  mercy  and  in- 
finite merit  of  Christ,  through  whom  he  is  accepted ;  and  his  sense  of 
the  need  that  his  rebellious  heart  should  be  brought  back  again  to  God, 
by  his  submitting  to  be  saved  by  his  sanctifying  grace ;  and  by  this  does  he 
give  all  the  glory  in  a  sinner's  power  to  that  great  and  gracious  Saviour. 

What  other  instrument  of  justification  can  be  so  suitable  as  this  ?  We 
see,  on  the  one  hand,  that  God  will  justify  a  sinner  because  of  Christ's 
righteousness,  and  will  give  to  Christ  all  the  glory  ;  Ave  see,  on  the  other 
hand,  an  instrument  of  justification,  by  which  all  the  glory  is  rendered 
to  Christ ;  and  it  must  be  plain  to  the  commonest  understanding,  that 
that  instrument,  and  none  other,  is  that  which  may  be  most  honorable  to 
God,  to  order  and  establish  as  the  one  condition  of  a  sinner's  salvation. 
Is  there  merit  in  this  act  of  faith  ?  No  more  than  there  was  in  Peter, 
when,  because  he  was  sinking  in  the  water,  he  trusted  Christ's  power 
and  love  to  save  him  from  it.  No  more  than  there  was  in  the  army  of 
Israel,  when  they  believed  that  the  power  of  God  would  divide  for  them 
the  Red  Sea,  and  carry  them  in  safety  through  it.  No  more  merit,  than 
there  is  in  the  destitute  and  dying  welcoming  the  alms,  that  may  sa\'e 
them  from  destruction.  There  is  no  merit  in  faith.  It  is  not  by  faith  as 
a  work,  by  faith  as  a  meritorious  attaunnent,  that  any  sinner  is  justified  ; 
but  it  is  by  the  riches  of  Christ,  which  faith  apprehends,  and  lays  hold 
upon.  It  is  by  that  which  gives  to  Christ  all  the  glory,  and  precludes  all 
merit  in  the  sinner,  that  God  has  determined  to  justify  every  sinner 
who  is  justified. 

If  this,  my  brethren,  be  the  plain,  scrijjtural  account  of  the  way  in 
which  a  sinner  is  justified  by  God,  it  is  very  easy  to  see  how  important 
it  is,  that  you  and  I  should  not  alone  reason  about  faith,  not  alone  talk 
about  faith,  but  should  have  this  justifying  faith.  In  fact,  it  is  impossible 
for  me  adequately  to  state  the  importance  of  obtaining  this  blessing. 
All  blessings  flow  from  it.  Once  obtain  this  saving  faith  in  Christ,  and 
we  are  glorious  forever.  Once  obtain  it,  and  the  attributes  of  God  are 
around  us,  like  a  fortress,  that  no  evil  can  invade.  Once  obtain  it,  and 
the  privileges  of  the  new  covenant  of  grace  are  ours.  Without  it  we  are 
shut  out  from  salvation,  and  honor,  and  happiness.  No  words  can  ex- 
press tlie  importance  of  every  living  and  thinking  soul  in  this  congre- 
gation getting  this  fixith.  We  must  have  it.  We  shall  be  lost  without 
it.  We  shall  hasten  down  to  ruin,  if  we  have  not  faith ;  and  the  more 
we  know  of  it,  the  more  convinced  we  are  of  it,  the  worse  will  it  be  for 
us  if  we  do  not  get  it.  That  fiiith  must  burn  in  our  bosoms,  as  the  pi'in- 
ciple  of  eternal  life,  or  we, perish.    We  must  have  it,  or  we  die. 


THE    FAITH    THAT    SAVES    THE    SOUL  551 

Docs  any  one  here  say — I  can  not  have  it;  I  have  no  faith,  and  I  can 
not  have  it  ?  What  does  that  mean — I  can  not  have  faith  ?  Is  Christ 
deserving  your  confidence  ?  Are  God's  invitations  plain  and  certain  ? 
Is  it  necessary  to  escape  from  hell,  and  to  reach  heaven  ?  Must  you  be 
happy  ?  Have  you  any  indestructible  thirst  after  happiness  ?  Is  the 
Avay  to  happiness  made  plain  before  you  ?  Why,  then,  do  you  not  take 
it  ?     What  is  the  meaning  of  saying,  I  can  not  believe  ? 

It  means  this^  as  you  must  see  if  you  recall  what  justifying  fliith  is : 
I  can  not  see  that  I  am  a  lost  sinner ;  I  will  not  own  it ;  and  therefore  I 
can  not  trust  Christ's  atoning  sacrifice,  and  Christ's  sanctifying  grace. 
Is  this  what  it  means  ?  Then  what  fatal  pride  there  is  in  that  man,  or 
woman,  or  child,  in  this  congregation,  that  ventures,  in  the  face  of  facts 
that  will  silence  all  of  us  when  we  stand  before  the  judgment-seat,  and 
ought  to  silence  all  of  us  now,  to  say — I  can  not  own  that  I  am  a  hell- 
doomed  sinner ;  I  can  not  own  that  I  merit  my  Maker's  eternal  curse  ? 
We  shall  see  it  plainly  enough  hereafter,  if  we  do  not  see  it  now ;  and 
there  is  nothing  to  account  for  the  dullness  of  our  vision,  but  the  pride 
of  our  hearts.  What  fatal'  pride,  if  we  should  happen  to  own  before  God 
at  the  last,  that  in  the  face  of  all  the  clearest  denjonstration  of  his  w^ord, 
his  attributes,  and  the  workings  of  our  own  common  sense,  we  denied 
that  we  deserved  his  eternal  wrath  ! 

Or  does  it  mean — I  can  not  trust  Christ's  great  sacrifice,  and  perfect 
obedience,  and  declared  love?  What  ingratitude  to  him!  what  cause- 
less unbelief!  Is  it  true,  or  is  it  not  true,  that  that  unseen,  but  Almighty 
Saviour  is  ready  to  intercede  for  you,  and  give  you  his  Spirit,  and  carry 
you  to  heaven  ?  Is  it  true,  or  is  it  not,  that  there  is  not  one  soul  in  this 
congregation,  for  wdiom  Christ  Jesus  did  not  give  his  blood,  and  whom 
he  is  not  now  ready  to  make  a  child  of  God  and  an  heir  of  heaven? 
What  fatal,  what  damnable  unbelief,  if  notwithstanding  all  this,  any  one 
in  this  congregation  says — I  can  not  trust  him  ! 

Or  does  it  mean,  that  because  he  has  revealed  that  he  will  save  you 
by  making  you  holy,  by  leading  you  to  obey,  by  making  you  mortify 
your  sins,  by  giving  you  the  sanctifying  Spirit  through  which  all  this  may 
be  done,  you  can  not  submit  to  that ;  you  must  hold  your  sins  ;  you 
must  still  live  in  that  which  God  forbids ;  you  must  still  cherish  that 
which  God's  law  condemns?  Why,  in  the  face  of  such  fearful  sanctions, 
and  notwithstanding  such  plain  and  reiterated  commands,  and  when  such 
infinite  mercy  is  extended  to  you,  to  refuse  salvation  because  you  will 
cling  to  sin — O !  it  must  silence  every  one  at  the  last,  if  nothing  else 
did  ;  it  must  strike  such  an  arrow  of  remorse  into  the  miserable  soul  that 
will  have  then  to  own — I  might  have  been  rescued  and  blest  forever, 
))ut  I  would  not  give  up  my  rebellion  against  God.  Alas !  alas !  it  will 
deepen  all  the  gloom  of  the  condemnation,  that  is  resting  upon  you  al- 
re.'uly. 

But  if  still  you  tell  me  that  you  are  obliged  to  say,  I  can  not  beUeve ; 


552  BAPTIST     W.    NOEL. 

are  yon  to  sit  down  in  despair  ?  Here  is  a  fearful  load  of  guilt  upon 
you  ;  must  you  sit  down  in  despair  ?  Do  you  say — What  can  I  do  ? 
I  am  lost,  I  shall  sink  hito  perdition,  I  have  not  believed,  I  can  not  be- 
lieve ;  all  this  is  true,  but  I  must  sink  into  perdition,  helpless  and  hope- 
less ?  You  only  half  believe  that ;  or  you  would  not  sit  still  and  do 
nothing.  Depend  upon  it,  when  any  man  says,  I  must  sit  still  and  do 
nothing,  because  I  can  not  believe,  he  has  only  half  a  conviction  of  his 
melancholy  state.  A  little  deeper  conviction  of  the  absolute  and  in- 
tolerable misery  to  which  such  a  state  is  leading,  would  make  you  at 
once  begin  to  be  active  in  doing  what  you  can. 

Do  you  say — What  can  we  do  ?  There  are  many  things,  God's  word 
declares  you  not  only  can,  but  must  do.  It  is  our  duty  to  believe  in 
Christ  at  once.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  this 
assembly,  to  believe  in  Christ  now.  There  is  evidence  that  ought  to 
convince  every  one,  at  once,  without  any  further  examination  ;  and  the 
obligations  resting  upon  us  are  such,  that  not  one  night  ought  to  be 
lost ;  not  one  minute's  delay  ought  to  be  interposed.  Christ  ofi'ers  yoT 
and  me  salvation,  if  we  trust  him ;  and  it  is  our  duty  to  trust  him  now. 
We  are  lost,  and  he  offers  to  save  us  from  hell  by  his  atoning  sacrifice, 
by  his  sanctifying  Spirit ;  and  he  only  asks  us  to  trust  him.  We  ought 
to  trust  him  noic. 

But  if  the  hardness  of  any  heart  forbids  it ;  if  the  habitual  imbelief 
of  any  heart  forbids  ;  if  the  devoted  love  of  sin,  which  still  masters  an^ 
one,  forbids  it ;  then  what  must  follon^  ?  To  do  nothing  ?  IsTo.  Listen 
to  God's  word,  as  you  hope  to  be  saved.  God  has  required  of  just  such 
persons — "  Wash  you,  make  you  cl^an ;  put  away  the  evil  of  your 
doings  from  before  mine  eyes  ;  cease  to  do  evil ;  learn  to  do  well ;  seek 
judgment,  relieve  the  oppressed,  judge  the  fatherless,  plead  for  the 
widow.  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord  ;  though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  ;  though  they  be 
red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool."  Break  off  every  habit  of  sin. 
Keep  out  of  the  way  of  temptation.  Forsake  the  company  that  tempts. 
Do  what  you  obviously  can.  No  one  compels  you  to  seek  bad  com- 
pany ;  no  one  compels  you  to  place  yourself  in  the  way  of  temptation ; 
Satan  can  not  compel  you  to  any  external  act.  Therefore,  break  off 
these  things.  Break  off  whatever,  in  fact,  interferes  with  your  seeking 
salvation.     Break  it  off  at  once.     It  is  God's  command. 

Is  there  nothing  that  you  can  do  ?  God's  word  declares — "  Who 
soever  shall  call  upon  the  name  of  the  Lord  shall  be  saved."  Can  not 
you  call  on  him  ?  Can  not  you  at  once  begin  to  seek  God's  mercy  ? 
But  you  have  not  faith  ;  and  you  have  not  earnestness.  Still,  call  on 
him  as  you  can.  Begin  to  pray.  Fasten  upon  your  mind  the  neces- 
sity of  salvation  ;  and  let  the  cry  of  your  natural  distress,  if  not  the 
prayer  of  faith,  ascend  up  before  God. 

God  has  said  in  his  word — "  The  law  is  our  schoolmaster  to  bring  us 


THE    FAITH    THAT    SAVES    THE    SOUL. 


oH 


to  Christ."  Then,  in  "other  words,  it  is  when  men  perceive  how  the  hiw 
condemns  them,  that  they  flee  to  Christ  as  the  only  Saviour.  Do  not 
get  rid  of  the  sense  of  guilt ;  but  fasten  it  on  your  mind.  Meditate  on 
God's  holy  law ;  look  at  all  its  precepts ;  apply  tliem  to  your  own  case ; 
see  how  you  have  violated  them ;  acknowledge  the  condemnation  that 
law  pi-ononnces.  Let  the  humiliating  thought  rest  there,  till  it  couipe!? 
you  to  seek  salvation  by  Christ.  "  The  law  is  our  schoolmaster  to  bring 
us  unto  Christ,  that  we  may  be  justitied  by  faith." 

Meditate,  further,  as  you  can,  upon  the  gospel  of  Christ :  for  "  fiith," 
Ave  read,  "  cometh  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by  the  word  of  God." 
When  any  one  will  day  by  day  read  the  Scriptures  solemnly  and  seri- 
ously, and  endeavor  to  understand  them,  and  to  impress  them  on  Ids 
mind,  it  may  be  the  duty  in  Avhich  God  meets  him.  In  tlie  absence 
of  that,  how  can  you  expect  the  blessing?  If  you  despise  God's  word, 
if  you  neglect  his  gosj^el,  can  you  look  for  salvation  ?  Read  it ;  medi- 
tate upon  it.  You  may  find,  as  thousands  have,  that  in  that  obedience^ 
however  imperfect,  to  God's  will,  he  may  meet  with  you  and  save  you. 

These  things,  at  least,  you  can  do  ;  and  there  are  other  similar  direc- 
tions in  God's  word,  for  those  who  are  as  yet  in  their  sins.  And  till  all 
these  are  done,  and  have  been  done  long  in  vain,  do  not  say  you  can  do 
nothing.  If  you  say  so,  ray  dear  hearer,  it  is,  de^^end  ui)on  it,  because 
you  are  only  half  convinced.  Once  thoroughly  persuaded  that  you  are 
ruined  without  Christ,  you  mil  gratefully  seize  the  oj)portunities  for 
these  habits,  which  he  has  required  you  at  once,  as  condemned  sinners, 
to  exercise  and  to  cultivate. 

But  how  can  we  express  adequately,  my  Christian  brethren,  the 
g:ratitude  we  ought  to  have  to  God  through  Christ,  if  indeed  he  has 
given  us  this  inestimable  blessing  ?  How  can  we  sufiiciently  deplore 
the  condition  of  some  among  us,  to  whom  it  seems  almost  impossible 
that  they  should  beUeve ;  to  whom  the  difficulty  in  their  way  seems 
almost  insuperable  ?  And  yet  God  has  taught  us  to  believe.  Why  ? 
Why  do  we  rest  on  Christ  this  night  ?  Why  do  we  now  look  up  to 
our  most  loving  Saviour,  to  deliver  us  from  our  guilt  and  ruin,  from  the 
curse  of  the  law,  from  the  malice  of  Satan,  from  his  temptations,  from 
the  eternal  wrath  we  have  merited,  from  all  evil ;  and  to  place  us 
among  his  people  in  glory  ?  Why,  with  a  consciousness  perhaps  as 
complete  as  any  one  can  have,  that  we  are  utterly  deserving  of  eternal 
wrath,  have  we  yet  this  confidence  in  Christ  ?  O !  brethren,  it  is  a 
blessing  fi'om  God,  for  which  it  is  impossible  we  should  be  sufiiciently 
thankful.  Let  us  day  by  day  exercise  that  faith.  Let  not  a  day  go  by, 
without  our  trusting  in  Christ  still  to  save  us.  And  may  that  confidence 
in  him  become  more  and  more  simple  and  complete. 


DISCOURSE    IXXIl. 


JABEZ     BUNTING,    D.D. 

The  Hercules  of  modern  Methodism,  as  Dr.  Bunting  has  been  described,  is  a 
native  of  Manchester,  England,  and  is  now  nearly  fourscore  years  of  age.  He  was 
educated  by  Dr.  Percival,  of  Manchester,  and  numbered  among  his  early  rehgious 
friends,  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  Dr.  Coke,  and  Rev.  Mr.  Benson.  His  public  career  began 
in  1799,  and  he  was  stationed,  alternately,  at  London,  Liverpool,  and  Leeds.  At 
the  founding  of  the  Wesleyan  Theological  Institute  in  1835,  then  at  Hoxton,  and 
since  at  Richmond  and  Disbury,  he  was  appointed  its  President ;  an  office  wliich 
he  still  holds,  though  only  nominally.  With  the  exception  of  two  years,  he  has 
been  Secretary  of  the  Wesleyan  Missionary  Society  since  the  year  1819.  He  has 
been  four  times  President  of  the  Conference ;  and  is  even  yet  regarded  as  the  lead- 
ing man  in  England  in  the  large  and  influential  body  to  which  he  belongs. 

In  personal  appearance,  Dr.  Bunting  is  quite  commanding ;  sHghtly  above  the 
ordinary  height,  of  full  figure,  large  and  broad  face,  small,  keen  eyes,  and  white 
hair.     His  complexion  is  wonderfully  fair  for  one  of  his  age. 

Dr.  Bunting  for  years  past  has  not  preached  very  frequently  ;  but  whenever  he  is 
seen  in  the  pulpit,  it  creates  a  universal  sensation.  An  admher  describes  him  as  an 
excellent  preacher.  His  matter  and  style  are  both  remarkable  for  their  condensation. 
There  is  a  separate  idea  in  almost  every  second  sentence  he  utters.  He  possesses  a 
sound  judgment,  and  a  mind  of  considerable  .vigor.  He  is  always  above  medi- 
ocrity ;  he  frequently  starts  new  trains  of  thought,  and  gives  utterance  to  things 
which  sufficiently  strike  the  mind  of  the  hearer,  to  justify  the  supposition  that  the 
impression  made  wiU  be  lasting.  He  is  a  sententious  preacher.  His  discourses 
always  bear  traces  of  very  careful  preparation.  And  they  are  not  only  carefully 
prepared  in  the  first  instance,  but  being  in  most  cases  repeatedly  preached  in  various 
chapels,  and  frequently  in  the  same  chapels  at  certain  intervals  of  time,  they  are 
doubtless  often  retouched ;  and  consequently  ought  to  be  of  a  very  superior  order 
of  merit.  Dr.  Bunting,  it  is  said,  has  only  a  limited  number  of  what  he  himself 
considers  good  sermons.  The  statement  is  the  more  probable,  as  he  has  in  some 
Bases  delivered  the  same  discourse  ten  or  twelve  times  over.  What  may  appear 
more  surprising  is  the  fact,  that  in  some  instances  he  preaches  sermons  which  have 
not  only  been  frequently  preached  before,  but  have  actually  appeared  in  print,  and 
been  extensively  circulated.  In  some  instances  ho  has  been  induced,  under  peculiar 
circumstances,  to  apprize  the  congregation  of  the  fact  immediately  after  giving  out 
the  text.  He  has  an  aversion  amounting  to  horror  at  seeing  his  discourses  reported 
in  any  of  the  publications  devoted  to  the  reports  of  sermons ;  and  it  is  said  that  his 
usual  i)ractice  before  commencing  is  to  look  round  the  chapel  aid  see  if  he  can  dis- 


THE     GUILT    OF     UNBELIEF.  555 

cover  any  reporter  in  it.  When  preaching  a  few  years  ago  near  Ha nmersmith,  he 
observed  a  reporter  with  his  note-book  in  his  hand ;  when,  after  announcing  the 
text,  he  said,  "I  see  a  reporter  there,"  pointing  to  a  particular  part  of  the  chapel, 
"  for  one  of  the  pulpit  publications.  I  beg  to  inform  him,  that  the  sermon  I  am  now 
going  to  preach,  was  not  only  before  dehvered  by  me,  but  will  be  found  in  print." 
On  another  occasion,  when  preaching  in  Aldersgate  chapel,  he  observed,  after  he 
had  got  fairly  into  the  discourse,  a  young  man  taking  notes  in  the  front  seat  of  the 
gaiUery  on  the  left  of  the  pulpit ;  when  suddenly  stopping  in  his  sermon,  and  turning 
round  to  the  other,  he  accosted  him,  by  way  of  parenthesis,  thus :  "  Young  man,  I 
Bee  you  are  very  busy  in  taking  notes  of  my  sermon.  If  you  wish  to  remember 
it,  you  ought  to  try  to  do  so  when  you  go  home,  and  not  disturb  a  whole  con- 
gregation peaceably  assembled  for  the  worship  of  God."  The  young  man,  however, 
went  on  with  his  notes  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

The  reverend  gentleman's  manner  is  represented  as  exceedingly  quiet.  He  can 
hardly  be  said  to  use  any  gesture  at  all.  His  voice  is  clear ;  but  in  such  a 
chapel  as  that  in  Great  Queen  street,  he  is  hardly  audible  in  the  more  distant  parts 
of  it.  He  speaks  deliberately,  but  impressively,  owing  to  the  quahty  of  his  matter, 
and  a  seriousness  wliich  there  is  about  his  general  appearance.  He  often  closes  his 
little  clear  eyes  during  the  delivery  of  his  sermon ;  perhaps  altogether  they  are  shut' 
during  half  the  time  he  is  occupied  with  his  discourse. 

Dr.  Bunting  has  not  done  much  in  the  way  of  authorship.  His  best -known  and 
largest  work  is  his  Life  of  the  late  Eev.  Richard  Watson,  published  in  1833.  He 
has  written  several  pamphlets,  and  published  a  few  sermons.  '  That  which  is  sub- 
joined is  esteemed  one  of  the  most  eloquent  which  he  has  ever  put  forth.  It  cer- 
tainly does  justice  to  liis  distinguished  reputation. 


THE  GUILT  AND  GROUNDLESSXESS  OF  UNBELIEF. 

"And  he  marveled  because  of  their  unbelief." — Mark,  vi.  6. 

WiiEX  lie,  by  Avhbm  the  world  was  made,  condescended  to  dwell 
among  men,  and  so  was  "  in  the  w^orld,"  the  world  "  knew  him  not." 
"  He  came  unto  his  own,  and  his  own  received  him  not."  They  "  hid,  as 
it  were,  their  faces  from  him  ;  he  was  despised,  and  they  esteemed  him 
not."  And  by  none  of  our  Lord's  countrymen  was  that  saying-  more 
fully  verified,  than  by  the  Nazarenes.  In  Nazareth  he  appeared  as  an 
infiuit ;  at  Nazareth  he  was  brought  up ;  they  had  the  honor  of  seeing 
the  first  indications  of  his  superior  wisdom  and  piety.  It  was  at  Naza- 
reth that  "  the  child  grow  and  waxed  strong  in  spiiit,  filled  with  wisdom  ; 
and  the  grace  of  God  was  with  him."  To  Nazareth  he  returned  after 
his  celebrated  conversation  with  the  doctors  in  the  temple  ;  and  there  he 
was  subject  to  Mary,  his  real  mother,  and  to  Joseph,  his  reputed  father ; 
while  he  "  increased  in  wisdom,  and  in  stature,  and  in  favor  with  Go<l  and 
man."  It  was  at  Nazareth  that  he  wrought  in  the  occupation  of  a  car- 
penter, till  the  time  came  for  his  commencing  his  public  ministry.     It 


556  JABEZ     BUNTING. 

was  at  Nazareth,  in  fine,  that  lie  clid  many  of  his  most  wonderful  works. 
His  brethren — that  is,  his  kinsmen — all  lived  there  ;  and  this,  together 
with  otlier  circnmstances,  would  naturally  beget  in  our  Saviour  some 
particular  attachment  to  a  place  with  which  he  had  been  so  long  con- 
nected :  it  would  be  his  AAish,  that  the  comjianions  of  hk  early  life  should 
be  made  partakers  of  the  benefits  of  his  religion.  Accordingly,  we  find, 
that  at  the  commencement  of  his  ministry  he  went  to  Nazareth,  and, 
entered  the  synagogue,  "  as  his  custom  was.''''  I  wish  parents  to  notice 
this,  for  their  encouragement  to  train  their  children  to  early  habits  of 
piety ;  as  his  custom  was,  or  had  been,  "  on  the  Sabbath  day  he  stood 
up  to  read ;"  and  there  he  delivered  a  discourse  founded  on  a  passage  in 
Isaiah.  At  the  first  part  of  his  discourse  his  countrymen  were  delighted, 
and  "wondered  at  the  gracious  words  which  proceeded  out  of  his 
mouth."  But  when  he  began  to  make  a  proj)er  application  of  his  sub- 
ject, as  it  became  him  to  do,  their  anger  was  greatly  roused  ;  and  but 
for  an  interference  of  his  miraculous  power,  his  life  had  paid  the  forfeit 
of  his  fidelity.  They  "  rose  up  and  thrust  him  out  of  the  city,  and  led 
him  unto  the  brow  of  the  hill  whereon  the  city  was  built,  that  they 
might  cast  him  down  headlong.  But  he,"  perhaps  rendering  himself 
invisible,  or  them  powerless,  "  passing  through  the  midst  of  them,  went 
his  way."  So  ungrateful  a  reception  might  Avell  have  discouraged  him, 
or  induced  him  to  abandon  them  forever,  as  persons  who  judged  them- 
selves, passed  sentence  on  themselves,  as  unworthy  of  eternal  life.  But 
our  Saviour,  rich  in  mercy  and  slow  to  anger,  has  here  taught  us  to  be 
"  patient  in  tribulation,"  and  to  persevere  in  doing  good,  though  in  doing 
it  we  suffer  only  ill.  l^Iark  tells  us,  and  we  have  reason  to  believe,  from 
compai'ing"  other  circumstances,  that  it  was  only  a  few  months  after,  tliat 
"  he  came  to  his  own  country,  and  when  the  Sabbath  day  was  come,  he 
began  to  teach  in  the  synagogue."  As  on  the  former  occasion,  the 
people  were  at  first  struck  with  admiration,  and  confessed  that  "  mighty 
works  were  wroiight  by  his  hands."  But,  notwithstanding  their  convic- 
tion of  the  truth  of  his  teaching,  and  the  dignity  of  his  public  ministry, 
their  minds  were  filled  with  prejudice ;  their  evil  heart  of  unbelief  was 
not  subdued  ;  and  they  were  not  prepared  to  render  him  that  practical 
homage  which  was  due  to  the  true  Messiah.  To  justify  themselves  in 
their  infidelity,  they  pretended  to  doubt  the  truth  of  his  mission  ;  and 
they  basely  and  i;ngenerously  recounted  the  meanness  and  obscurity  of 
his  parentage  and  the  deficiency  of  his  education  :  "Is  not  this  the  car- 
penter, the  son  of  Mary,  tlie  brother  of  James,  and  Joses,  and  of  Juda, 
and  Simon?  and  are  not  his  sisters  here  Avith  us?  And  they  were 
oftended  at  him."  The  cause  of  this  was,  that  their  hearts  were  full  of 
blindness  and  prejudice,  their  minds  were  worldly  and  carnal,  and  their 
reasonings  were  false  and  deceitful.  And  the  effects  of  this  were 
deplorable :  for  it  is  said,  that  "  he  could  there  do  no  mighty  work,  sa-\-e 
that  he  laid  his  hands  upon  a  few  sick  folk,  and  healed  them.    And  he 


THE     GUILT     OF    UNBELIEF.  557 

mai'veled  because  of  their  unbelief."     The  sin  of  unbelief  is  here  rcpre- 
Bented  in  a  twofold  point  of  view. 

1.  As  injurious  to  those  toho  exercise  it.  "He  could  there  do  no 
mighty  work."  They  did  not  believe  in  his  power,  and  therefore  they 
came  not  to  him  for  cure  ;  and  he  could  not  obtrude  his  goodness  upon 
them,  or  force  them  to  receive  benefits  from  him,  consistently  with  his 
plan  and  determination.  "How  much,"  says  the  excellent  Dr.  Dod- 
dridge, "did  these  Nazarenes  lose,  by  their  obstinate  prejudice  against 
Jesus !  How  many  diseased  bodies  might  have  been  cured,  how  many 
lost  souls  might  have  been  recovered  and  saved,  had  they  given  him  a 
better  reception!"  And  you  will,  no  doubt,  join  in  the  pious  wish 
which  the  Doctor  adds :  "  May  divine  grace  deliver  us  from  that  unbe- 
liefs M'hich  does,  as  it  were,  disarm  Christ  himself,  and  rendei's  him  a 
savor  of  death,  rather  than  of  life,  to  our  souls!"  But  unbelief  is  heie 
represented, 

2.  As  exceedingly  unreasonahle  and  ahsnrd.  "  He  marveled  because 
of  their  unbelief;"  it  excited  the  surprise  of  Christ.  Unbelief  is  alto- 
gether without  reason  ;  it  is  not  to  be  vindicated.  It  is  contrary  to  the 
duty  of  the  situation  and  circumstances  under  which  men  are  placed ;  it 
is  contrary  to  what  might  reasonably  be  expected  from  such  men  under 
such  circumstances.  It  is  to  this  last  view  of  unbelief  that  we  propose 
now  to  attend.  We  shall j^rs^  explain  what  we  mean  by  unbelief;  and, 
scconf%,  justify  the  sentiment  of  surprise  which  existed  in  the  mind  of 
Christ,  on  the  occasion  before  us. 

J.  Let  us  explain  what  we  mean  by  unbelief. 

Unbelief,  in  general,  is  the  rejection  of  God's  revealed  truth ;  and,  in 
particular,  it  implies  the  refusal  and  neglect  to  receive  and  act  on  the 
testimony  God  has  given  of  his  Son,  as  the  only  all-suificient  Saviour  of 
guilty  men, 

1.  Tlie  xinhellcf  of  some  is  total.  This  implies  a  rejection  of  tlie 
Messiah — a  denial  of  his  Messiahship — a  total  refusal  to  admit  of  his 
being  the  way  to  life  and  blessedness.  Such  were  the  Sadducees,  such 
were  many  of  the  ancient  Jews,  and  such  are  evidently  the  majority  of 
them  to  this  day.  Nor  does  it  apply  to  Jews  alone  :  the  same  word 
which  tells  us  that  the  doctrine  of  Christ  was  "  a  stumbling-block  to  the 
Jews,"  tells  us  that  by  the  wise  and  philosopliic  Greeks  it  was  despised 
as  "  foolishness."  All  men  in  the  pi-esent  day  have  not  even  nominal 
faith  in  Christ.  I  sj)eak  not  now  of  the  thousands  of  heathens  who  are 
not  believers  in  Christ :  their  case,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  not  unbelief  in 
the  gospel :  "  How  shall  they  believe  in  him  of  whom  they  have  not 
heard  ?  And  how  shall  they  hear  without  a  preacher  ?"  Their  case  is 
rather  matter  of  our  compassion  than  of  our  surprise.  But  it  is  matter 
of  surprise,  that,  in  a  Christian  country,  many  to  whom  the  gosi)el  is 
preached — many  who  have  heard  the  joyful  sound  of  salvation — that 


558  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

many  of  these  should  despise  the  majesty  of  the  gospel,  and  refuse  to 
give  it  that  credence  which  it  demands  from  them. 

2.  Not  only  are  they  unbelievers,  who  reject,  but  hii-t  such  as  mutilate, 
and  corrupt  Ghristianity.  There  are  many  who  profess  to  admire,  and 
even  to  defend  with  zeal  and  learning,  its  exterior  form  and  structure, 
who  are  yet  among  the  very  foremost  to  deprive  it  of  all  its  beauty,  and 
to  rob  it  of  its  peculiar  excellency.  Among  these,  I  can  not  but  include 
those  who,  while  they  admit  the  Messiahship  of  Christ,  deny  his  divinity, 
his  atonement,  and  his  dwelling  in  the  hearts  of  believers  by  his  Holy 
Spirit.  These  are  such  distinguishing  points  in  Christian  truth,  that  he 
who  systematically  denies  them  can  not,  with  propi-iety,  be  called  a  be- 
liever in  Christ.  He  admits  the  general  words  of  Scripture,  but  he  puts 
his  own  sense  upon  these  words — a  sense  very  different  from  that  which 
Avas  put  upon  them  by  the  primitive  Church — a  sense  very  different  from 
that  which  was  plainly  taught  by  Christ  himself,  and  by  his  apostles.  He 
builds  the  fabric  of  his  hopes  on  a  different  foundation  from  that  which 
God  has  laid  in  Sion,  namely,  on  Christ,  who  "  gave  himself  for  us,  an 
offering  and  a  sacrifice  to  God  for  a  sweet-smelling  savor,"  and  by  whose 
blood  alone,  we  can  be  cleansed  from  sin  ;  and  he  regards  as  so  enthu- 
siastic the  idea  of  the  indwelling  of  Christ  in  the  hearts  of  his  people  by 
his  Holy  Spirit,  that  there  is  no  room  in  his  creed  for  the  dominion  of 
Christ  as  king  in  Sion,  Thus,  though  he  believes  the  words  of  Scripture, 
he  believes  them  not  in  their  true  sense  :  and,  as  he  is  not  a  behever,  he 
is,  of  course,  an  unbeliever.  This  statement  is  no  violation  of  true  candor^ 
for  that  requires  attention  to  be  paid  to  truth :  and  that  candor  which 
does  not  render  true  homage  to  the  truth,  is  sin.  However  common  and 
fashionable  this  spurious  candor  may  be  among  men,  it  is  an  abomination 
to  God,  whose  truth  it,  in  fact,  denies.  For  those  who  believe  not,  we 
are  required  to  feel  the  tenderest  pity ;  for  them  we  are  to  use  our  best 
efforts,  to  offer  up  our  most  fervent  prayers.  Perhaps  the  passage  which 
will  best  explain  our  duty  in  this  respect,  is  found  in  the  epistle  to  Timo- 
thy— "  The  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive  :  but  be  gentle  unto  all 
men,  apt  to  teach,  patient,  in  meekness  instructing  those  that  oj^pose 
themselves ;  if  God  pcradventure  will  give  them  reiDentance  to  the  ac- 
knowledging of  the  truth,  and  that  they  may  recover  themselves  out  of 
the  snare  of  the  devil,  who  are  taken  captive  by  him  at  his  will."  Now, 
this  passage,  so  far  from  warranting  indifference  to  the  truth,  represents 
the  truth  as  a  matter  of  the  greatest  importance ;  the  very  end  of  our 
instructions  is  here  stated  to  be,  that  such  persons  may  be  brought  to 
repentance  and  acknotoledging  of  the  truth  ;  and  it  is  only  as  they  repent 
and  acknowledge  the  truth,  which  they  before  denied,  that  they  can  be 
lecovered  out  of  the  snare  of  the  devil,  and  brought  to  true  repentance. 
That  is  a  false  love,  a  fictitious  tenderness,  which  represents  error  as  not 
dangerous;  and  which  declares  that  it  matters  not  what  we  believe, 
though  God  declares  that  he  that  bclieveth  not  the  gospel — the  pure. 


THE     GUILT     OF    UNBELIEF.  559 

nnmutilated  gospel — shall  be  damned.  Let  us  not  hide  the  truth,  Avhich 
we  are  caUed  by  God  as  a  church,  to  exhibit.  It  is  not  for  the  support 
of  light  and  unimportant  truths  that  the  church  is  called  the  "  pillar  and 
ground  of  the  truth."  No  :  the  truth  is  of  importance  ;  it  is  essential  to 
salvation ;  and  men  should  see  in  our  whole  manner  that  we  consider  the 
truth  as  nothing  less  than  a  matter  of  life  and  death. 

3.  The  neglecters  of  tJie  gospel^  as  well  as  its  rejecters  and  corruj^ters, 
are  guilty  of  unbelief,  though  in  a  more  mitigated  form,  I  grant.  These 
hold  the  truth,  but  they  hold  it  in  unrighteousness ;  like  a  man  who  holds 
a  torch,  only  to  convince  those  who  behold  him  that  the  pei'son  who 
bears  it  is  going  sadly  out  of  the  way.  Our  Lord  condemns  all  such ; 
and  it  is  evident  they  deserve  condemnation,  because  no  salutary  effects 
are  produced  by  their  profession  of  laith.  Such  persons  are  unbelievers, 
and  it  is  necessary  that  the  truth  should  be  told  them.  Faith  works  by 
love:  the  faith  of  God's  elect  is  not  a  mere  opinion  ;  it  implies  a  belief  of 
the  excellency,  the  suitableness,  the  efficacy  of  the  gospel ;  such  a  con- 
viction of  this  as  will  lead  men  to  embrace  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  the 
chief  subject,  the  substance  of  the  gospel ;  such  a  conviction  as  leads  to 
the  use  of  Christ  for  the  ends  for  which  God  has  given  him,  namely,  for 
"  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption." 

Notv,  if  such  persons  are  not  believers  at  all,  how  awfully  prevalent  is 
the  sin  of  imbelief!  Among  those  who  call  our  Saviour  Lord,  and  who, 
generally  speaking,  receive  his  truth,  how  many  are  there  who  do  not 
believe  with  the  heart  unto  righteousness  !  They  have  no  clear  view  of 
their  need  of  Christ  as  a  Saviour ;  no  decided  reliance  upon  him ;  no 
clear  application  of  his  merits  and  atonement.  They  hear  and  read  of 
Christ;  they  join  in  hymns  to  his  praise ;  they  approach  him  with  their 
lips — but  there  is  no  affectionate  trust  of  the  heart.  These,  then,  are 
unbelievers  :  God,  the  judge,  will  not  admit  that  this  faith  is  saving;  it 
is  dead  faith,  and  can  not  save  them. 

4.  Even  in  those  who  are  partly  renexoed  hy  grace,  there  are  the  secret 
workings  of  this  principle.  Though  it  is  in  a  form  more  mild,  it  is  yet  to 
be  discovered  ;  and,  in  proportion  as  it  exists,  it  mars  the  progress  of  the 
work  of  grace  in  their  souls.     I  may  instance  a  case  or  two. 

There  is  the  penitent  sinner,  who  is  seeking,  but  has  not  yet  found  the 
pardon  of  his  sins.  In  such  persons  there  is  to  be  perceived  some  good 
thing  toward  the  God  of  Israel ;  and  much  that,  if  followed  up,  will  lead 
to  good.  They  are  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God ;  they  ha^e  some 
knowledge  and  some  faith.  Now,  to  such,  God's  word  holds  out  the 
most  gracious  promises — "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive ;  seek,  and  ye  shal 
find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you."  "Him  that  comctli  unto 
me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out."  And  yet  in  many  cases,  from  week  to 
week,  from  month  to  month,  from  year  to  year,  the  effect  of  all  these 
kind  promises  and  gracious  invitations  is  baffled  by  a  secret  something 
which  refuses  to  be  comforted  when  God  would  comfort;  which  puts 


560  JABEZ     BUNTING. 

away  the  mercy  which  God  waits  to  bestow  ;  which  still  exclaims,  "  The 
mercy  of  the  Lord  is  clean  gone  forever !  He  will  be  merciful  to  others, 
but  not  to  me  !"  Now,  what  is  this  secret  something,  which  keeps  the 
man  who  is  convinced  of  sin,  and  who  wishes  for  pardon,  and  who  knows 
that  without  it  he  w-ill  be  ruined  forever  ?  What  is  it,  I  say,  which  keeps 
him  out  of  the  possession  of  pardoning  mercy  ?  What  is  it  ?  Satan  calls 
it  humility  and  diffidence  ;  and  he  keeps  you  out  of  the  blessing  by  tell- 
ing you  it  is  not  proper  for  one  so  sinful  and  so  worthless  to  lay  hold  on 
the  blessings  of  salvation,  and  that  you  are  acting  the  part  of  an  humble 
man  to  keep  aloof  from  those  blessings.  This,  Satan  tells  you  ;  but  he  is 
a  liar,  and  the  father  of  lies.  O,  listen  not  to  that  arch  fiend,  when  he 
pretends  to  preach  humility  !  No :  the  real  name  of  the  principle  that 
keeps  you  back,  h,  pride,  and  not  humility.  Real  humility  will  not  lead 
to  unbelief:  it  will  rather  lead  men  to  cry  for  mercy,  and  cause  them  to 
flee  to  the  only  refuge  that  is  set  before  them. 

But  even  those  who  believe,  but  are  not  yet  made  perfect  in  love,  are 
under  the  influence  of  unbelief  in  part.  As  unbelief  prevents  the  sinner 
from  entering  into  God's  family ;  so  unbelief,  in  one  who  is  a  child,  pre- 
vents him  from  the  enjoyment  of  the  privileges  of  God's  family.  Take 
an  example.  There  are  found  in  the  word  of  God,  "  exceeding  gi-eat 
and  precious  promises ;"  promises  of  a  clean  heart,  and  a  right  spirit ; 
promises  of  complete  recovery  to  the  image  of  God ;  promises  of  being 
sanctified  wholly,  body,  soul,  and  spirit;  promises  of  being  preserve! 
blameless  to  the  coming  of  the  day  of  the  Lord.  And  what  hinders  the 
man,  who  sees  the  beauty  and  excellency  of  holiness,  and  beholds  it  so 
clearly  and  abundantly  promised — what  hinders  him  from  entering  on 
the  full  possession  of  it  ?  In  some  cases  it  may  be  want  of  perception  of 
its  beauty,  and  the  possibility  of  attaining  it,  but,  in  general,  it  is  want 
offiith. 

Take  another  case.  In  some  dark  and  cloudy  day  a  man  has  yielded 
to  temptation  ;  he  has  committed  sin,  and  he  is  filled  with  misery.  But 
this,  his  guilt,  he  acknowledges ;  he  does  not  attemj^t  to  palliate  it ;  and 
it  is  the  privilege  of  such  a  man  to  come  to  God,  as  at  first  he  came,  and 
to  obtain  a  renewal  of  that  favor  which  he  has  forfeited.  And  what  is  it 
that  induces  him  to  postpone  the  application  for  this  mercy  to  a  future 
period  ?  What  prevents  him  approaching  the  fountain  opened  ?  What 
prompts  him  to  seek  to  wear  his  stain  away,  instead  of  coming  to  have 
it  washed  away  at  once  ?  Satan  persuades  him  that  the  principle  which 
thus  keeps  him  from  God  his  Father,  who  is  waiting  to  be  gracious  tc 
him,  and  receive  him  back  to  his  favor,  is  shame,  holy  shame,  ingenuous 
shame ;  but  it  is  really  unbelief.  We  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  having 
been  negligent,  of  having  been  unfaithful,  of  having  been  sinners ;  but 
we  ought  not  to  be  ashamed  of  coming  to  God  for  forgiveness ;  we  ought 
to  remember  that  these  words  belong  to  us  :  "  These  things  I  write  unto 
you,  that  ye  sin  not."     And  if  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with 


THE     GUILT    OF     UNBELIEF.  5G1 

the  Father,  Jesus  Ciiuist,  the  rigliteous,  and  he  is  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins. 

And  I  might  observe,  that  unbelief  opei-ates,  in  a  degree,  i7i  believers 
in  Christ.  It  is  so  in  cases  of  affliction,  of  trial,  of  difficulty.  BeHevers 
are  sometimes  in  circumstances  in  which  they  are  ready  to  say :  "  My 
way  is  hid  from  the  Lord  :  my  God  hath  forgotten  me  !"  in  o])position 
to  his  word,  who  hath  said  :  "  I  will  never  leave  thee ;  I  will  never  for- 
sake thee  !"  But  I  can  not  dwell  longer  on  this  part ;  and  you  can  easily 
a]>ply  these  remarks  to  other  cases.     I  proceed, 

ii.  to  justify  the  expression  of  astonishment  ox  the  part  of 
Christ. 

It  is  said  that  "he  marveled  because  of  their  unbelief."  Unbelief  is 
altogether  unreasonable  and  unbecoming. 

1.  How  unreasonable,  for  instance,  was  the  unbelief  tohich  our  Lord 
vntnessedin  the  days  of  his  flesh.  The  unbelief  of  these  men  at  Naz- 
areth was  marked  with  great  stupidity,  and  chargeable  with  great  folly. 
For,  consider  tohat  opportunities  they  had  been  favored  xoith  of  seeing 
our  Lord's  early  character,  and  of  hstening  to  his  propitious  doctrines. 
Tlie  superior  sanctity  which  marked  his  childhood,  ought  to  have  made 
strong  impressions  on  their  minds ;  and  ought  to  have  led  them  to  inves- 
tigate  carefully,  and  to  receive  honestly  the  convictions  of  their  minds. 
An  unbelief  so  blind  as  theirs  was  surely  unreasonable.  "  From  whence,"' 
exclaimed  they,  "  hath  this  man  these  things  ?  and  what  wisdom  is  this 
M]iich  is  given  unto  him,  that  such  mighty  works  are  wrought  by  his 
hands  ?"  The  fact  they  admitted ;  the  evidences  were  too  strong  to  be 
resisted.  Why,  then,  did  they  not  proceed  to  draw  the  only  rational 
inference,  namely,  that  he  was  a  divine  person?  Their  unbelief  was 
unreasonable.  Advert,  also,  to  the  nature  of  the  excuses  they  presented 
for  it.  They  talked  of  the  meanness  of  his  education ;  of  the  poverty 
of  his  circumstances;  of  the  narrowness  of  his  means.  Why,  these 
were  the  very  circumstances  that  ought  to  have  induced  faith.  For 
if  natural  causes  could  not  produce  such  surprising  effects,  how  very  ra- 
tional to  conclude  that  they  were  produced  by  supernatural  causes.  Then, 
their  possession  of  the  ancient  Scriptures  left  them  without  excuse.  They 
had  tlie  prophecies  of  Isaiah  ;  and  they  might  have  read  them  if  they  had 
not  willfully  neglected  to  do  so.  His  fifty-third  chapter  Avould  have  told 
tliom  that  Christ  Avas  to  be  "as  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground  ;"  that  he 
would  be  destitute  of  any  outward  "form,  or  comeliness,  or  beauty," 
which  should  lead  men  to  "desire  him,"  All  this  justifies  the  sti'ung 
sensation  of  surprise,  on  the  part  of  our  Saviour,  at  so  much  hisensibility. 
"  lie  marveled  ;"  he  who  well  knew  what  was  in  man,  and  how  depraved, 
and  how  veiy  unreasonable  man  naturally  was — even  he  was  surprised  ; 
even  the  Searcher  of  iiearts  '■'■marveled,  hocause  n^  the  unbelief"  they 
manifested !  , 

3'6 


562  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

2.  The  same  unreasonahUness  attaches  to  modern  as  to  ancient  unhelief. 
Let  us  consider  this  in  reference  to  the  various  descriptions  of  unbelief 
Ave  noticed  in  the  first  part  of  the  discourse. 

First.  On  what  do  our  modern  infidels  rest  their  unbelief?  Do  they 
plead  WANT  OF  evidence  ?   How  base  and  ungrounded  is  their  assertion ! 

Let  them  study  our  Christianity ;  let  them  institute  a  strict  comparison 
between  its  various  parts  ;  let  them  look  at  the  long  chain  of  prophecies 
Avith  which  it  was  introduced  ;  let  them  consider  the  miracles  by  which 
its  verity  w^as  attested — its  pure  salutary  truths  and  doctrines ;  let  them 
mark  the  astonishing  rapidity  of  its  early  j^rogress — its  progress  in  oppo- 
sition to  all  obstructions,  and  to  the  most  determined  hostility ;  and  that 
it  came  not  with  any  appeal  to  the  passions,  or  proclaiming  any  truce  to 
the  vices,  but  with  the  force  of  truth  alone,  and  denouncing  all  the  A'ices. 
Let  them,  I  say,  consider  this  body  and  weight  of  evidence,  which,  if 
considered  aright,  is  more  than  enough  to  weigh  down  all  their  objections, 
and  Avhich  if  rejected,  exposes  them  most  justly  to  the  charge  of  unreason- 
able unbelief.  But  our  religion,  they  allege,  contains  in  it  so  many  myste- 
EiES,  that  these  ought  to  lead  them  to  its  rejection.  But  this  very  circum- 
stance, we  say,  is  an  additional  argument  for  faith.  If  Christianity  told  us 
nothing  but  what  the  book  of  nature  teaches,  it  could  not  be  from  God. 
Surely,  if  God  Avrote  a  book,  it  must  contain  something  of  which  the  ear 
hath  not  heard,  which  the  eye  hath  not  seen,  and  of  which  the  human  heart 
Iiath  not  conceived.  As  in  the  earth,  while  surveying  the  works  of  nature, 
and  perceiving  their  peculiar  skill  and  adaptation,  we  infer  that  they  are 
the  produce  of  a  divine  hand ;  so,  in  what  are  termed  the  mysteries  of  re- 
ligion, we  see  abundant  proofs  of  a  divine  hand.  And,  besides,  if  we  are 
to  doubt  because  of  what  is  mysterious,  where  is  skepticism  to  end  ?  We 
see  mystery  all  around  us,  and  if  we  are  not  to  believe  till  we  can  com- 
prehend, we  shall  never  believe  at  all.  It  is  absurd — it  is  monstrous,  to 
reject  the  truth  of  God,  because  it  teaches  us  something,  which,  but  for 
it,  we  could  not  understand  !  And  further  peculiar  criminality  and  un- 
reasonableness attaches  to  modern  than  could  attach  to  ancient  infidelity. 
On  us  "  the  ends  of  the  world  are  come  ;"  to  us  the  system  of  Christianity 
is  more  fully  explained,  and  the  glory  of  God  shmes  forth  with  greater 
radiancy,  in  the  person  and  Avork  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  beneficial  effects 
of  the  system  have  been  illustrated  by  many  striking  facts  m  our  days, 
which  Avere  not  knoAA'n  to  our  fathers.  The  argument  for  Christianity  is 
stronger:  it  has  groAvn,  and  is  still  groAving,  Avith  the  growth  of  infor- 
mation. On  the  infidels  of  these  days,  therefore,  the  benevolent  Saviour 
may  well  look  down  Avith  mingled  emotions  of  surprise  and  indignation  ; 
he  may  well  be  alike  grieved  for  the  hardness  of  their  hearts,  and  sur- 
prised at  the  strength  of  their  infatuation ! 

Secondly.  And  Avhat  shall  I  say  of  the  unreasonableness  of  the  next 
class — a  disbelief  of  the  principal  doctrines  of  Christianity  ?  Is  npt 
this  unreasonable  f     Wh^n  a  man  Avrites  a  bocjc  for  his  fellow  men,  if 


THE     GUILT     OF    UNBELIEF.  563 

nis  object  be  to  instruct  philosophers  and  the  learned,  he  adapts  his 
style  to  them ;  but  if  he  be  anxious  to  instruct  the  mass  of  men — if  he 
would  benefit  the  unlearned,  and  those  who  are  incapable  of  deep  and 
critical  inquiry — then  he  writes  hi  a  plain  and  popular  style,  that  all  who 
read  may  at  once  comprehend  his  meaning.  Now,  apply  this  to  the 
book  which  God  has  given.  The  poor  and  uneducated  form  the  mass 
of  the  peojjle  ;  their  instruction  and  benefit  must  therefore  be  regarded ; 
and  if  he  be  a  good  and  gracious  God,  then  a  plain  and  simple  man  Avill 
be  able  to  collect  his  meaning  from  the  plain  language  and  letter  of  his 
Avord.  Those  who  reject  the  great  truths  of  the  Bible  pretend  to  say 
that  a  great  part  of  the  Bible  is  not  to  be  understood,  according  as  the 
words  appear  on  the  surface.  They  tell  us  about  corruptions ;  and  they 
explain  much  of  its  contents  away  into  eastern  similes.  But  let  any 
plain,  unsophisticated  man,  any  man  whose  mind  is  not  prejudiced  and 
perverted  by  tortured  criticisms — let  any  honest  man  regard  the  cor- 
riqytions^  as  they  term  them,  of  the  Scriptures,  and  he  will  find  them  to 
be  the  very  vital  and  important  truths  of  the  system.  But  there  is 
some  reason  to  think  that  men  are  beginning  to  get  tired  of  this  rational 
system  ;  and  to  see  that  they  must  either  follow  Scripture,  as  it  is,  or 
go  at  once  to  Deism :  they  begin  now  to  find  that  the  half-way  house, 
as  it  has  been  termed,  between  Deism  and  Christianity,  is  untenable. 
And  let  those  who  attempt  to  take  refuge  there,  let  those  halfway  house 
men  take  care,  lest  God  should  say  to  them,  as  he  said  to  ancient  Chal- 
dea,  "  Thy  Avisdom  and  thy  knowledge,  it  hath  perverted  thee  !" 

3.  But  the  form  of  unbelief,  Avhich  is  the  most  extraordinary,  is  that 
of  the  iieglecters  of  salvation :  those  Avho  hold  the  truth,  but  hold  it  in 
imrighteousness.  You  will  not  surely  account  us  your  enemies  if  we 
tell  you  the  truth.  We  say  that  there  are  many  who  admit  the  truth 
of  the  gospel,  and  yet  neglect  its  great  salvation.  If  we  speak  of  such 
characters,  we  must  speak  in  the  terms  which  belong  to  them :  we  ac- 
cuse you  of  conduct  which,  if  it  were  exemplified  in  the  common  aflairs 
of  life,  Avould  justly  expose  you  to  the  charge  of  inconsistency  and 
irrationality.  I  \Aill  endeavor  to  set  your  conduct  before  you,  and  I 
entreat  you  to  let  your  consciences  go  with  me.  You  say  that  you  be- 
Ueve  the  gospel  to  be  of  God ;  that  "  at  the  first  it  began  to  be  spoken 
by  tlic  Lord,  and  was  confirmed  unto  us  by  them  that  heard  him ;  God 
also  bearing  them  witness,  both  with  signs  and  wonders,  and  Avith 
divers  miracles,  and  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  according  to  his  own  will ;'' 
you  say  that  you  believe  in  his  Scripture ;  and  yet,  you  live  in  habitual 
opi)osition  to  what  you  know  to  be  the  requirements,  and  what  you 
know  to  be  the  privileges  of  this  gospel !  You  say  that  you  believe  in 
'he  existence  of  a  God — a  God  who  is  present  in  all  places — who  is  in- 
timately acquainted  with  all  your  thoughts,  and  words,  and  actions ; 
and  yet — you  go  on,  day  after  day,  in  a  career  which  you  know  he  must 
hate !      Yoii  say  that  you  believe  him  to  be  a  just  God ;    and  -that  he 


564  JABEZ     BUNTING. 

who  is  the  Maker  of  all  the  earth  shall  be  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth ; 
and  that  he  has  prepared  the  thunderbolts  of  his  wrath,  that  he  may 
take  vengeance  on  them  that  know  not  God,  and  that  obey  not  his 
will ;  and  yet — you  continually  defy  this  authority,  and  expose  yourself 
to  this  vengeance  !  T'oic  say  you  believe  that  you  have  immortal  souls ; 
that  when  you  leave  this  world  you  must  go  into  another  state ;  that 
this  other  state  must  be  regulated  by  your  present  character  and  con- 
duct ;  that  there  is  a  state  of  happiness  for  the  holy,  and  of  misery  for 
the  unholy  ;  and  yet — you  act  as  if  you  had  no  souls — as  if  there  were 
no  future  state — as  if  heaven  were  a  delusion,  and  hell  were  a  chimera ! 
Y^ou  say  that  you  believe  Jesus  Christ  came  from  heaven  to  earth  to 
seek  and  to  save  the  lost;  that  he  was  delivered  for  the  oifenses  of  men, 
and  rose  again  for  their  justification,  and  returned  to  heaven,  that  he 
might  intercede  for  them,  and  send  them  down  all  the  blessings  of  his 
salvation  ;  and  you  come  to  hear  his  truth  proclaimed  to  you  Sabbath 
after  Sabbath  ;  and,  such  is  the  force  of  habit,  you  would  be  quite  un- 
comfortable if  you  did  not  listen  to  these  things  ;  and  yet — you  are 
quite  content  to  have  no  experience  of  this  Saviour's  pardoning  mercy 
and  sanctifying  grace  !  •  I  might  pursue  this  train  of  remark  ;  but,  from 
what  has  been  said,  you  see  how  clearly  a  charge  of  the  most  marvelous 
unbelief  and  absurdity  may  be  made  out  against  you.  You  kiss  the 
Saviour,  like  Judas,  and  like  him  you  betray  him  for  this  world's  good. 
You  call  him  Lord,  but  you  do  not  the  things  which  he  says.  You 
sleep  as  quietly  in  your  beds,  after  we  have  assured  you,  upon  his  au- 
thority, that  you  are  in  danger  of  eternal  perdition,  as  if  you  had  never 
heard  a  word  about  the  matter !  and  it  is  more  than  probable  that  some 
of  you  M-ill  do  so  this  very  night !  And  how  is  this  ?  Is  it  not  mar- 
Telous  ?  Well  may  Christ  be  grieved  and  wonder  !  Is  it  not  marvel- 
ous insensibility  to  what  you  acknowledge  to  be  so  valuable  and 
important?  Is  it  not  a  proof  of  marvelous  unbelief,  to  disregard  a 
blessing  which  you  yourselves  allow  to  be  attainable  ?  Is  it  not  a 
marvelous  disregard  of  all  the  thunders  of  the  divine  wrath,  which  you 
must  confess  are  hanging  over  your  head  ?  O  that  you  were  willing  to 
follow  up  the  convictions  of  your  own  minds !  that  you  would  not  at- 
tempt to  get  rid  of  them  in  an  unhallowed  Avay  !  that  you  would  cherish 
them  by  reading  the  Scriptures  and  pious  books,  by  meditation,  by 
prayer,  by  intercourse  with  Christians,  and  by  the  use  of  all  the  means 
which  God  has  appointed  to  save  souls  from  the  wrath  to  come ! 

4,  I  speak  to  those  also  Avho,  though  not  loving  sin,  but  truly  convinced 
of  their  sinfulness  and  consequent  danger,  hating  sin  and  desirous  of  being 
freed  from  it ;  yet  go  on  for  loeeks,  and  months,  and  even  years,  icithout 
finding  the  mercy  which  God  has  2Jfomised — without  obtaining  the 
blessings  of  pardon,  of  adoption,  of  holiness,  of  consolation,  of  the 
Holy  Spirit's  influence.  Come  and  let  me  expostulate  ^yith  you.  There 
are  many  such  in  all  our  congregations,  and  in  all  our  societies.     It  is  a 


THE    GUILT     OF    UNBELIEF,  505 

fact,  that  if  we  have  a  thousand  members,  we  find  at  least  a  hundred  to 
whose  general  seriousness  we  can  make  no  exception,  whose  conduct  is 
marked  by  regularity  ;  who  yet  can  not,  with  satisfaction  to  their  minis- 
ters and  fellow  Christians,  declare  what  God  has  done  for  their  souls. 
There  are,  no  doubt,  therefore,  some  such  present  this  evening.  Xow, 
let  me  expostulate  with  you:  look  at  your  case.  O  that  I  may  be 
assisted  to  say  something  which  shall  lead  you  this  night  to  lay  hold  on 
Christ !  Something  that  shall  make '  you  ashamed  of  your  unbelief  in 
my  Saviour  and  yours !  Something  that  shall  convince  you  that,  Avhen 
he  opens  his  arms  to  receive  you,  you  have  wo  right  to  run  away  from 
him ;  that  you  have  no  right  to  close  your  ears  to  his  inviting  voice ; 
that  it  is  your  daty^  as  well  as  your  interest,  to  lay  hold  on  his  mercy, 
and  to  receive  the  blessings  which  he  has  pressed  on  your  acceptance  in 
the  exuberance  of  his  kindness!  Now,  what  does  he  say?  "Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.  I,  even 
I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  thy  transgressions  for  mine  own  sake,  and  will 
not  remember  thy  sins.  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saitli  the 
Lord.  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow  ; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool."  But  I  need  not 
repeat  these  promises  ;  what  you  want  is  not  the  knowledge  of  them — 
you  have  heard  them  read  a  hundred  times  ;  no  ;  what  you  want  is,  to 
believe,  to  embrace  them.  These  promises  point  out  you — you  yourselves 
— as  the  very  persons  who  want  these  good  things.  And  O,  consider 
that  these  promises  are  confirmed — confirmed  by  a  solemn  oath  ;  "  that 
by  two  inmiutable  things,  in  which  it  was  impossible  for  God  to  lie,  they 
might  have  a  strohg  consolation,  who  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay  hold  on 
the  hope  set  before  them."  You  have  heard  God's  2^^'omise — now  hear 
God's  oath.  O,  infinite  condescension  !  You  doubt  his  word — shame 
on  you  !  But  he  does  not  desert  you  for  your  sin.  Now,  hear  it,  pen- 
itent ;  hear  the  oath  of  thy  God  !  We  have  it  on  record  in  his  own 
book ;  it  is  written  for  your  comfort.  Listen  :  "  As  I  live,  saith  the 
Lord  God,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  wicked ;  but  that  the 
wicked  turn  from  his  way  and  live  :  turn  ye,  turn  ye,  from  your  evil 
M'ays  ;  for  why  will  ye  die  ?"  God  tells  you,  by  his  life,  that  he  is  ready 
to  save  you — to  save  you  ?t07o.  And  this  promise,  and  this  oatli,  have 
been  sealed  by  the  blood  of  Christ ;  "  and  he  that  spared  not  his  own 
Son,  but  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also 
freely  give  us  all  things  ?"  And  this  promise,  and  this  oath,  have  been 
confirmed  by  the  resurrection  of  Christ.  By  this  we  are  taught  that  the 
sacrifice  he  presented  was  accepted — that  God  is  satisfied  ;  and  that 
there  is  nothing  even  in  his  justice  to  hinder  him  from  pardoning  you. 
Hence  the  language  of  the  apostle  to  the  Hebrews:  "Now  the  God  of 
l)cace,  tliat  brought  again  from  the  dead  our  Lord  Jesus,  that  great 
Shepherd  of  the  sheep,  through  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant, 
make  you  perfect !"    And  so  on.     O,  what  comfort  is  contained  in  these 


566  JABEZ    BUNTING. 

words !  God  is  "  the  God  of  jDeace."  Why,  we  might  have  been 
charged  to  tell  you  that  God  is  "  a  man  of  war."  But  no ;  we  have  to 
proclaim  him  to  you  as  "  the  God  of  jjeace."  He  has  a  peaceful  dispo- 
sition toward  you ;  and  he  has  proved  this  by  raising  up  Jesus  Christ 
from  the  dead. 

It  is  possible  that  loe  may  have  erred  in  telling  you  that  this  is  your 
2)rivilege,  and  not  dwelling  sufficiently  on  it  as  your  duty.  It  is  your 
duty  to  believe  ;  it  is  a  great  crime  you  are  guilty  of  in  not  coming  to 
God  for  the  pardon  of  your  sins,  when  he  has  told  you  so  plainly  and  so 
repeatedly  that  he  waits  to  bestow  that  pardon.  You  believe  the  word 
of  yom-  fellow  men ;  to-morrow  you  will  take  their  word,  perhaps, 
twenty  times  in  the  day,  in  the  course  of  your  business ;  but  you  will 
not  take  the  word  of  God ;  you  must  behold  something  extraordinary, 
you  must  have  some  miracle  performed,  before  you  believe  God  !  and  is 
not  this  most  marvelous,  most  unreasonable  ?  Will  it  not  be  infinitely 
better  to  take  him  at  his  word,  and  receive  the  blessing  ?  Why,  part 
of  his  word  you  do  believe ;  you  do  believe  his  threatening s^  when  he" 
says  that  "  the  wicked  man  shall  surely  die."  This  you  firmly  believe. 
But  another  part  of  his  Avord — that  very  part  which  is  most  suited  to 
your  case — you  put  away  from  you!  You  say  that  you  are  not  ready 
yet ;  that  you  are  not  worthy  yet !  O  the  marvelous  absurdity  of  this 
unbelief !  Men  under  the  influence  of  this  vile  principle  will  absolutely 
believe  all  but  that  wliich  they  are  required  to  believe — that  which  most 
of  all  concerns  them  to  believe — that  "  this  is  a  faithful  sati^s^g,  and 

•WORTHY  OF  ALL  ACCEPTATION,  THAT  JeSUS  ChKIST  CAME  INTO  THE  WORLD 

TO  SAVE  SINNERS."  I  HOW  proclaim  it  to  you;  take 'it  home  to  your- 
selves; say, 

"  Who  did  for  ever-y  sinner  die, 
Hath  surely  died  for  me." 

For  me  he  hath  obtained  that  redemption  which  is  of  so  much  value  ; 
that,  without  which  I  must  forever  have  perished  !  Sayest  thou  this  ? 
Then  thou  art  the  very  man  for  my  Saviour.  Thou  art  the  very  man 
on  whom  he  now  looks  down,  on  whom  he  now  waits  to  be  gracious ! 

I  have  already  trespassed  so  unwarrantably  upon  your  time,  that  I  must 
leave  you  to  apply  this  train  of  thought  to  other  cases  of  unbelief  Avhich 
Avill  present  themselves  readily  to  your  mmd.  We  may  learn  from  this 
subject, 

1.  Jlie  m,arvelous  corruption  of  human  nature,  from  ichence  all  this 
unbelief  originates.  If  man  was  as  he  came  out  of  the  hands  of  liis 
Maker,  he  could  receive  with  simple,  confiding  love,  all  that  he  has  said, 
and  listen  implicitly  to  all  his  assurances.  Faith  has  its  seat  in  the  heart 
and  so  has  unbelief;  hence  we  read  of  "  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief" 
Man  is  very  far  gone  from  original  righteousness.  Now,  as  unbelief 
took  us  away  from  God,  so  faith  alone  can  bring  us  back  to  God,  and 
])repare  us  for  an  ultimate  admission  into  heaven.     See  also, 


THE     GUILT     OF     UNBELIEF  567 

2,  Tlie  necessity  of  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  This  is  necessary, 
that  faith  may  be  inspired,  and  kept  in  exercise,  and  brought  to  matur- 
ity. If  unbeUef  be  in  the  heart  by  nature,  it  is  not  the  nicest  train  ol 
reasoning,  it  is  not  all  the  power  of  moral  suasion  that  can  produce 
faith.  True  faith  is  supernatural ;  the  apostle  tells  the  Philippians  that 
it  had  been  "  given  them  to  believe  in  his  name."  You  must  believe  ; 
believing  is  your  act ;  but  it  is  an  act  of  a  heart  i-enewed  by  the  grace 
of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  by  the  same  almighty  and  efficacious  power  by 
which  Christ  was  raised  from  the  dead.  Look  at  the  case  of  infidels  ; 
other  means  are  employed  in  abundance,  but  they  remain  infidels  still ; 
while  others  have  been  converted  from  infidelity  in  the  absence  of 
all  human  means.  Look  at  the  case  of  Saul  of  Tarsus ;  he  was  a  most 
bigoted  Pharisee,  and  a  furious  and  determined  persecutor;  and  he  was 
not  made  into  a  sincere  and  humble  Christian,  and  a  zealous  and  success- 
ful preacher,  by  books,  or  by  human  argumentation.  The  miraculous 
light,  and  the  voice  from  heaven,  might  arouse  his  attention ;  but  it  was 
by  an  immediate  and  direct  interference  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  the 
change  was  effected,  and  true  faith  was  inspired.  The  conversion  of 
Vanderkemp,  also,  is  a  case  fully  in  point ;  a  conversion  scarcely  less 
remarkable  than  that  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  From  a  German  infidel, 
infidelity,  pei'haps,  of  the  most  specious  and  dangerous  kind,  Vander- 
kemp, without  human  interference,  became  a  zealous  Christian.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  good  books,  that  wise  and  pious  information, 
are  to  be  despised ;  but  I  do  mean  to  say,  that  the  great  fault  is  in  men's 
hearts  ;  and  that  it  is  necessary  that  the  heart  should  be  prepai-ed  by  the 
operation  of  the  Spirit,  to  receive  the  truth  in  the  love  of  it.  And  that, 
though  the  mind  may  be  prepared,  in  some  measure,  by  knowledge,  yet 
that  true  faith  is  the  immediate  eftect  of  a  direct  influence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit. 

As  to  all  the  instances  of  unbelief  we  have  specified,  and  as  to  all 
others  which  may  occur,  go  direct  to  God ;  pray  against  your  imbelief ; 
beseech  him  to  cure  you  of  this  dreadful  infatuation. 

And  let  the  disciples — let  those  who  are  set  to  guide  souls  to  Christ — 
let  all  the  Church  say,  "  Lokd,  increase  our  faith  !" 


DISCOURSE    XL. 

HUaH    MACNEIL,    D.  D. 

Dr.  MacISIeil,  of  Regent's  Park,  Liverpool,  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  preachers 
in  England.  He  is  a  native  of  the  province  of  Ulster,  in  Ireland,  and  was  in  youth 
a  very  thoughtless  young  man,  fond  of  the  drama  and  light  literature.  After  his 
conversion  he  gave  himself  to  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  was,  for  a  time,  one 
of  the  most  popular  preachers  of  the  London  pulpit,  and  was  presented  afterward 
with  the  living  at  St.  Jude's  in  Liverpool.  His  labors  there  were  blessed  to  the 
conversion  of  hundreds  ;  and  whEe  tliere  he  signalized  himself  as  a  controversialist 
on  the  Romish  question  Under  his  ministry  the  church  became  far  too  small,  and 
hence  his  removal  to  Regent's  Park,  where  he  occupies  a  very  handsome  and  capa- 
cious church.  He  is  known  as  the  author  of  several  works  on  prophecy,  among 
the  rest  a  very  excellent  treatise  on  the  Restoration  of  the  Jews.  In  common  with 
many  of  the  evangelical  school  in  England,  he  holds  Millenarian  views,  although  he 
does  not  go  the  length  of  some  of  the  less  sober  and  intelligent  writers  on  these 
questions. 

Dr.  MacNeil  possesses  all  that  impetuosity  of  temperament,  that  versatility  of 
talent,  that  exuberance  of  imagination,  and  that  affluence  of  imagery,  which  have 
characterized  some  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the  sons  of  the  Green  Isle.  His  ap- 
pearance in  the  pulpit  is  most  commanding.  He  is  tall,  handsome,  and  erect.  His 
hair  is  now  flaxen  white ;  his  complexion  ruddy,  without  any  tendency  toward 
corpulency  ;  his  voice  is  clear,  sweet,  and  melodious,  possessing  all  the  tones,  from 
the  lowest  bass  to  the  highest  alto,  and  under  the  most  perfect  control ;  his  preach- 
ing is  impassioned  and  telling ;  his  argumentation  is  well  put ;  his  expositions  are 
clear ;  his  illustrations  to  the  point ;  and  his  appeals  never  fail  to  reach  the  heart. 
Rev.  Dr.  Tyng,  in  his  "  Recollections  of  England,"  describes  glowingly  the  abilities 
of  Dr.  MacNeil,  and  speaks  of  him  as  combining,  in  an  extraordinary  degree,  the 
"  unrivaled  excellences  of  subject,  mind,  and  matter."  In  preaching  he  is  wholly 
extemporaneous,  and  holds  a  Httle  pocket  Bible  in  his  hand,  from  which  he  makes 
his  quotations.  It  is  said  that  he  has  admitted  not  less  than  a  tlioitsand  souls  to 
the  church,  who  have  been  savingly  converted  to  God  under  his  ministiy.  It  was 
hoped  by  many  of  the  evangelical  friends  of  the  Church  of  England,  both  in  Canada 
and  in  the  eastern  provinces,  that  he  would  have  received  the  appointment  of  Bishop 
to  some  of  the  recently-vacant  provincial  sees ;  and  no  man  in  England  better  de- 
served such  a  preferment.  Dr.  MacNeil  would  be  widely  useful  to  the  British 
colonies  of  North  America.  The  discourse  from  his  master  pen  which  we  subjoin, 
was  first  preached  in  1834 ;  Dr.  Chalmers  once  heard  it,  and  declared  it  to  be  one 
of  the  best  productions  on  the  subject  to  which  he  had  ever  listened. 


MYSTERIES    IN     RELIGION.  569 


MYSTERIES  IN  RELIGION. 


"  Verily  thou  art  a  God  that  hidest  thyself,  0  God  of  Israel,  the  Saviour." — Isaiah, 
xlv.  15. 

"  Be  still,"  saith  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  "  and  know  that  I  am 
the  Lord."  "  I  will  be  exalted  among  the  heathen ;  I  will  be  exalted  in 
the  earth."  "  O  taste,  and  see,"  saith  the  Psalmist,  inviting  the  people 
of  God  to  the  enjoyment  of  their  privileges,  "taste  and  see,  that  the 
Lord  is  good."  And  again  :  "  To  know  thee,"  saith  the  Saviour,  in  his 
prayer  to  the  Father,  "  is  eteraal  life ;  to  know  thee,  the  only  true  God, 
and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent."  Among  all  the  objects  by 
which  the  human  understanding  can  be  exercised,  or  the  human  affoc- 
tions  engaged,  the  most  important  beyond  comparison,  and,  with  all  who 
believe  that  there  is  a  God  beyond  dispute,  is  God  himself — God  in  the 
mysteriousncss  of  his  person  and  existence — God  in  the  sovereignty  of 
his  creation  and  providence — God  in  the  riches  of  his  atoning  love  in 
Jesus  Christ — God  in  the  enei-gy  of  his  saving  power  by  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

"  Verily,  thou  art  a  God  that  hidest  thyself,  O  God  of  Israel,  the  Sa- 
viour." Such  was  the  exclamation  of  the  prophet,  when  sinking  under 
the  Avcight  of  the  revelation  that  had  been  given  to  him.  Something  of 
God  was  made  known  to  him ;  but  much  remained  unknown.  A  beam 
of  light  had  fallen  upon  him,  but  it  was  only  suflicient  to  make  him 
intelligently  conscious  of  the  unfathomable  depth  of  the  Fountain  of 
Light  itself.  More  light  hath  fallen  upon  us,  and,  with  the  New  Testa- 
ment in  our  hands,  we  might  truly  say,  "A^erily  thou  art  a  God  that 
revealest  thyself,  O  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Saviour."  And 
yet,  Avhen  that  revelation  is  examined,  and  examined,  if  possible,  with 
apostolic  skill,  we  must  exclaim,  in  unaffected  apostolical  humility,  in 
ignorance,  conscious  and  confused,  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of 
the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God!  His  ways  are  past  finding  out ! 
Who  hath  known  his  mind  ?  Who  hath  been  his  counselor  ?"  "  Of 
him,  and  through  him,  and  to  him,  are  all  things;  to  whom  be  glory  for 
ever  and  ever." 

I  am  persuaded,  my  brethren,  that  one  of  the  most  important  features 
in  the  subject  Avhich  I  now  desire  to  bring  before  you,  is  the  indhpens- 
able  necessity  that  exists  for  a  mystery.  The  indispensable  necessity  of 
a  mystery :  for  the  human  mind  is  so  constituted,  that  either  it  abuses 
the  mystery  into  superstition,  or  it  rejects  the  whole  truth  because  of  the 
mystery,  and  plimgcs,  however  unconsciously,  into  infidelity.  To  recog- 
nize, without  abusing,  a  mystery,  is  the  attitude  to  which  a  finite  mind 
must  be  brought,  in  rightly  receiving  a  revelation  from  the  living  God. 
For  observe :  suppose  God  to  make  a  full  and  adequate  revelation  of 
himself,  there  is  a  point  in  the  examination  of  that  revelation,  at  which 


570  HUGH    MACNEIL 

man's  understanding  must  fail ;  for  man's  understanding,  at  the  best,  i!s 
finite :  God  is  infinite.  The  finite  can  not  grasp  the  infinite  ;  and,  there- 
fore, there  must  needs  be  a  point,  at  which  the  power  of  the  finite  under- 
standing that  can  take  in  that  infinite  communication,  would  cease  ;  and 
at  a  particular,  point,  there  would  be  a  horizon  to  man's  perceptions  of 
truth.  That  is,  to  us  there  would  be  a  point  at  which  the  revelation 
would  cease  to  be  explanation,  and  a  man's  view  would  be  bounded,  and 
a  mystery  would  commence.  For  what  is  a  mystery  ?  A  mystery  is  a 
revelation  unexplained;  a  truth  told — told  distinctly — but  not  reasoned 
upon  and  explained  ;  a  truth  so  told  that  we  can  boldly  say  lohat  it  is, 
but  not  so  explained  as  to  enable  us  to  say  how  it  is.  The  personal  ex- 
istence of  God,  as  declared  in  Holy  Scripture,  is  a  mystery ;  it  is  a  rev- 
elation unexplained — a  statement  unreasoned  ;  and  it  presents  a  horizon 
to  the  human  understanding,  which  fades  into  mystery.  And  I  wish  to 
show  you  how  unreasonable  the  man  is  who  will  reject  the  objects  in  the 
foreground,  and  in  the  center  of  the  landscape,  because  he  can  not,  with 
equal  precision,  discern  the  objects  in  the  horizon. 

Gor>;  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost;  one  God — distinct,  yet  not 
divided ;  separate,  yet  still  one.  The  Son  ;  co-equal  and  co-eternal  with 
the  Father  ;  yet  begotten  of  the  Father.  The  Holy  Spirit ;  proceeding 
from  the  Father  and  the  Son.  The  Son  sent  by  the  Father,  and  filled 
with  the  Holy  Spirit.  The  Holy  Spirit  received  from  the  Father,  and 
sent  by  the  Son.  The  Father  God  ;  the  Son  God  ;  the  Holy  Spirit  God  ; 
and  yet  there  is  but  one  God.  "  Heai;,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God  is 
one  God."  God  saying  of  himself,  "I  am,  and  there  is  none  else;  I 
know  not  any."  God  saying  to  himself,  "  Let  us  make  man  in  our 
image,  after  our  likeness."  What  human  understanding  can  grasp  this  ? 
There  is  a  revelation  unexplained ;  the  Trinity  is  an  iynperfect  discovery, 
not  a  contradiction.  There  is  a  great  difierence  between  these  two 
things.  The  intellect,  to  w^hich  notbing  is  mysterious,  must  be  infinite : 
but  a  finite  intellect  can  take  cognizance  of  a  contradiction.  There  may 
seem  to  be  a  contradiction  in  the  truth  ;  but  the  cause  is  in  the  infirmity 
of  the  creature,  and  not  in  the  infirmity  of  the  truth  itself  The  subject- 
matter  of  the  proposition  is  too  high ;  it  is  beyond  our  reach.  We  can 
not  demonstrate  a  contradiction,  for  we  can  not  enter  into  the  matter  of 
the  statement.  If  such  a  statement  were  made  concerning  three  men 
being  one  man,  the  subject-matter  of  the  proposition  being  within  the 
boundaries  of  our  cognizance,  so  that  we  can  reason  concerning  it,  one 
should  be  capable  of  proving  the  contradiction ;  but  when  such  a  state- 
ment is  made  of  God,  the  subject-matter  of  the  proposition-  is  beyond 
our  reach  ;  and  though  this  statement  may  seem  contradictory,  the  fault 
is  here — in  man's  understanding,  not  in  the  truth. 

Is  not  this  the  same  in  other  things,  as  well  as  in  religion  ?  Do  we 
understand  c>?,<r.se/'^'e.<f,  my  brethren  ?  The  metaphysician  inquires  into 
the  human  mind;  and  the  anatomist  searches  into  the  veins,  and  arteries. 


MYSTERIES    IN     RELIGION.  571 

and  joints  of  the  human  body;  and  tliey  each  make  many  discoveries  : 
but  there  is  a  point  at  which  they  are  both  baffled — the  union  of  mind 
and  matter,  and  the  power  of  the  one  over  the  other.  It  is  a  mysterious 
region,  the  fact  of  which  can  not  be  denied,  but  the  explanation  of  Avliicn 
can  not  be  given.  They  guess  about  it ;  and  some,  fastening  upon  the 
material  structure  deny  mind  altogether,  and  would  confine  the  man  to 
organized  matter.  What  I  wish  to  show,  is,  that  in  the  science  which 
connects  itself  with  the  existence  of  a  man,  there  is  a  region  of  mystery  ; 
there  is  a  fact :  and  in  philosophy,  facts  hold  the  place  Avhich  revelation 
holds  in  religion.  This  Book  contains  our  facts.  Experience  gives  the 
philosopher  his  facts ;  and  facts  bring  him  to  a  point  where  he  must  con- 
fess mystery.  Where  is  the  metaphysician  that  hath  ever  explained  the 
action  of  mind  upon  matter,  and  the  ready  movements  of  flesh  and  bone, 
at  the  secret  bidding  of  the  mysterious  visitant  within  ?  And  where  is 
the  anatomist  who  hath  discovered  its  origin,  with  his  searching  knife  ? 
No ;  there  is  a  mystery  in  it.  Now,  where  would  be  the  philosophy, 
where  would  be  the  reason  of  the  man,  who  would  deny  the  proximate 
facts  which  are  discovered  by  the  anatomist,  and  the  proximate  stater 
ments  which  are  made,  truly,  by  the  metaphysician,  because,  if  you 
press  them  both  a  little  further,  you  come  to  a  mystery  ?  Would  there 
be  reason,  would  there  be  philosophy,  in  rejecting  both  of  these  branches 
of  human  learning,  because  they  bring  you,  when  legitimately  pursued, 
into  a  region  where  you  must  confess  yourself  a  little  child,  and  recei\e 
the  fact  unexijlained  ?  For  a  mystery  in  philosophy  is  a  fact  unex- 
plained ;  as  a  mystery  in  religion  is  a  revelation  unexplained. 

Take  another  instance.  Much  has  been  discovered,  and  much  has  been 
demonstrated,  in  the  science  of  astronomy.  The  motions  of  the  heavenly 
bodies  have  been  made  matter  of  calculation  among  men  ;  and  true  cal- 
culation ;  the  results  proving  themselves  true,  by  periodical  returns  of 
infiillible  observation.  But  there  is  a  point  at  Avhich  we  reach  a  mystery 
here.  Upon  what  do  all  these  calculations  depend  ?  upon  what  do  all  these 
motions  rest  ?  Upon  a  quality  which  Sir  Isaac  Newton  baptized  ;  he  gave 
the  mystery  a  name ;  he  called  it  "  gi-avitation."  Grant  gravitation,  and 
we  can  reason  about  the  solar  system.  But  what  is  gravitation  ?  Who 
can  explain  that  ?  Why  should  matter" have  gravity?  It  has.  Yes  ;  we 
know  it  has ;  that  is  a  fact :  but  why  should  it  ?  There  is  here  a  mystery. 
Why  should  the  tendency  of  matter  be  to  the  center  of  the  earth  ?  Why 
is  it  a  fact,  that  if  you  could  bore  through  the  center  of  the  earth,  if  you 
had  a  hollow  diameter  through  the  earth,  and  dro])ped  a  ball  through  it, 
it  would  vibrate  at  the  center,  and  having  fallen  do\\n,  it  would  fill  up 
again,  back  to  the  center,  and  would  never,  and  could  never,  fall  through  ? 
No  one  can  tell  why  it  is.  Here  is  a  mystery  :  grant  this,  Avhich  is  in  the 
horizon,  and  you  prove  your  nearer  object.  But  this  must  be  granted  as 
the  mystery  in  the  matter.  And  where  would  be  theTeasoti,  I  ask,  where 
the  philosophy,  where  the  sound  sense,  where  would  bo  the  supreme  dis- 


572  HUGH    MACNEIL. 

cernment  of  the  men  who,  because  they  can  not  reason  through,  and  ex- 
plain gravitation,  would  take  upon  them  to  reject  the  Newtonian  system 
of  philosophy  in  the  heavens  ? 

Now  let  us  return  to  our  sublimer  theme.  Here  is  a  mystery  concern- 
ing the  existence  of  God ;  he  is  a  "  God  that  hideth  himself;"  he  has 
given  some  information,  but  he  has  maintained  a  reserve,  and  there  is  a 
darkness.  Suppose  that  the  trinity  of  persons  in  the  Godhead  wei'e  made 
l^lain  to  us ;  it  would  only  be  by  the  revelation  of  some  further-oif  point 
in  the  truth,  which  would  throw  forward  the  trinity  into  the  landscape, 
and  enable  us  to  look  through  it ;  and  then  the  point  so  revealed  would 
occupy  the  place  of  the  horizon,  and  would  have  transferred  the  mystery 
from  one  2:)art  of  truth  to  another ;  and  we  would  still  have  a  mystery ; 
for  we  are  finite,  and  God  is  infinite.  Now,  where  is  the  sense,  the  rea- 
son, the  philosophy,  the  superior  discernment — where  is  the  more  reason- 
able religion,  of  rejecting  the  doctrine  of  the  trinity,  because  there  is  a 
mystery  in  it,  and  rejecting  the  proximate  statements  of  redemption, 
which  all  hang  upon  the  trinity,  because,  that  when  pressed  home,  they 
involve  the  human  mind  in  a  mystery,  and  make  man  feel,  what  he  ought 
to  feel — that  he  is  a  little  ignorant  child,  at  his  highest  attainments,  in 
the  presence  of  his  Maker  ?  No ;  this  boasted  reason  is  pride.  This 
rational  religion  is  the  refusal  of  the  mystery.  It  looks  very  like  a  de- 
termination to  be  what  the  devil  said  man  should  be,  ''  as  God,"  instead 
of  being  as  a  little  child.  And,  verily,  I  say  to  you,  dear  brethren,  ex- 
cept a  man  receive  God's  truth  as  a  little  child,  willing  to  understand 
what  his  father  explains,  he  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God. 

My  object  in  this  much  has  been,  to  reconcile  you  to  the  existence  of  a 
mystery  as  regards  the  Godhead ;  revealed,  but  not  explained,  in  the 
Bible.  The  trinity  is  in  the  horizon,  the  trinity  in  unity :  it  is  the  horizon 
of  revelation  to  us  upon  this  point :  it  is  the  gravitation.  Granting  it, 
the  whole  statements  of  redemption  are  capable  of  demonstration  ;  re- 
i-ejecting  it,  the  whole  scheme  of  redemption  is  a  nonentity;  for  there  is 
no  Mediator,  there  is  no  atonement,  there  is  no  sanctifier.  Reject  the 
trinity,  and  the  gap  whicli  sin  has  made  between  God  and  man  finds  no 
one  that  can  fill  it  up.  All  false  glosses  upon  Christianity  leave  this  gap 
unfilled.  Admit  the  mystery ;  and  by  the  assistance  of  it,  and  resting 
upon  it,  we  are  in  possession  of  the  fundamental  element  of  truth  ;  which 
invests  v^dth  infinite  importance,  and  with  demonstrative  clearness,  the 
mediation,  the  atonement,  the  recovery  of  the  fallen  creature  back  into 
the  very  bosom  of  God,  w^hich  is  salvation. 

"Verily  God  hideth  himself;"  not  as  regards  his  personal  existence 
only,  but  as  regards  the  sovepwEignty  of  all  his  avorks  in^  creation 
AND  PROVIDENCE.  "  Of  him,  and  through  him,  and  to  him  are  all  things." 
He  is  the  origin,  he  is  the  support,  he  is  the  end  of  all  creation :  no  crea- 
ture can  come  into  existence  at  any  time,  can  continue  in  existence  for 
a  moment,  or  can  perform  one  single  act,  mental  or  bodily,  but  in  con- 


MYSTERIES    IN    RELIC  ION.  573 

tovmity  to,  in  complifinco  Avitb,  and  in  subserviency  to,  the  eternal  wiL 
of  the  living  God.  Angels,  principalities,  and  powers  in  heaven — angels, 
principalities,  and  powers  follen  to  hell — all  the  visible  creation  of  suns  and 
planets,  with  their  satellites  inniunerable,  their  atmospheres  around  them, 
and  their  millions  of  multitudinous  beings  upon  them,  all  at  every  moment 
of  existence  hang  upon  the  absolute  will  of  God,  for  life,  breath,  for  mo- 
tion, for  all  things.  He  spake  the  word,  "  Let  thera  be,"  and  the  soli- 
tude of  eternity  was  peopled  with  the  wonders  of  creation  ;  and  were  he 
to  speak  the  word  "  Let  them  cease  to  be,"  annihilation  would  be  instan- 
taneous and  universal,  and  God  would  be  left  again  alone  in  the  soli- 
tude of  eternity.  This  is  a  glorious  lesson  for  us  to  learn,  my  friends, 
that  we  may  know  our  place,  and  that  we  may  know  something  of  our 
God  ;  a  God  that  hideth  himself,  indeed,  but  a  God  that  revealeth  him- 
self in  part. 

Holiness,  as  well  as  power,  is  inseparable  from  our  God ;  for  as  he  has 
the  power  to  do  what  he  will  Avithout  control,  he  has  also  the  right  to  do 
what  he  will  without  injustice.  There  is  nothing  in  the  history  of  tlie 
fallen  angels,  which  can  excite  the  smallest  hesitation  about  ascribing  still 
unto  God  in  glory,  holiness,  unsullied  holiness.  The  elect  angels  see  and 
know  this ;  they  perceive  that  their  original  numbers  are  thinned,  that 
thousands  who  at  one  time  joined  Avith  them  in  singing  the  praises  of 
their  God  have  been  cast  down  into  darkness  and  ruin.  They  know  full 
well,  that  neither  Satan,  nor  any  of  his  company,  possessed  a  single  power 
but  what  God  gave  them  ;  or  were  tempted  by  a  single  opportunity  but 
what  God  made  for  them :  and  yet  instead  of  reasoning  upon  that  fact, 
as  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  reason,  and  thereupon  calling  in  question 
the  holiness  of  their  Maker,  we  know  that  the  language  of  the  elect 
angels  before  the  throne,  with  that  history  before  their  eyes,  and  the 
torments  of  their  former  companions  clear  in  their  intelligence — that 
their  language  is,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  of  Hosts."  Here  is  a 
mystery ;  we  have  intelligence  enough  to  grapple  with  this  mystery  in 
its  difticult  parts,  but  we  have  not  information  enough  to  overcome  this 
difficulty.  Here  again  we  are  brought  into  a  horizon.  Where  now  is  the 
sense,  the  reason — where  is  the  superior  discernment,  and  the  greater 
exorcise  of  soundness  of  discretion  and  judgment,  in  rejecting  the  sove- 
reignty of  God,  in  the  absolute  doing  of  all  tilings,  because  that  in  follow- 
ing it  out  we  are  involved  in  a  mystery  as  regards  his  moral  government  ? 
If  a  man  is  to  say,  "If  God  do  all  these  things  absolutely,  who  hath  re- 
sisted his  will?  Who  can  resist  his  will?  Why,  or  how,  can  he  then  find 
fault  ?"  the  language  of  Scrripture  is  in  reply,  an  appeal  to  our  ignorance  ; 
it  is  not  a  further  explanation  of  the  mystery,  but  it  is  a  very  signiiicant 
instruction  to  us,  that  the  apparent  diflicuHy  lies  on  us,  and  not  on  him ; 
for  the  answer  is,  "  Nay  but,  O  man,  who  art  thou  that  repliest  against 
God?"  And  the  illustration  is,  "  Hath  not  the  potter  power  over  the 
same  clay,  to  make  one  vessel  unto  honor,  and  another  unto  dishonor?" 


574  HUGH    MACNEIL 

Is  there  any  explanation  in  that  ?  ISTay,  brethren  ;  it  re-asserts  the  very 
depth  of  the  mystery,  and  leaves  it  unexplained.  It  is  a  revelation  unex- 
plained :  nothing  can  be  more  clearly  stated ;  yet  there  is  no  explanal  ion 
of  it  whatever. 

There  is,  then,  a  moral  government  with  our  God  who  hideth  himself, 
at  the  same  time  that  there  is  absolute  sovereignty:  and  the  principles 
of  his  moral  government  are  the  principles  of  equity,  and  righteousness 
and  truth.  "  God  can  not  be  tempted  with  evil,  neither  tempteth  he  any 
man  :  but  every  man  is  tempted,  when  he  is  drawn  away  of  his  own  lust, 
and  enticed.  Then  when  lust  hath  conceived,  it  bringeth  forth  sin  :  and 
sin  when  it  is  finished,  bringeth  forth  death."  This  is  the  pedigree  of 
damnation :  man's  lust — unto  sin — unto  death.  But  if  a  man  shall  reason 
thereupon,  and  say,  "  Well,  if  it  be  so,  that  man's  sin  is  his  own,  and  the 
evil  he  does  originates  in  himself;  then,  by  parity  of  reasoning,  the  good 
that  he  does  must  originate  in  himself  also."  Hearken  to  the  next  words 
of  the  apostle :  "  Do  not  err,  my  beloved  brethren.  Every  good  gift 
and  every  perfect  gift  is  from  above,  and  cometh  down  from  the  Father 
of  lights,  Avith  whom  is  no  variableness,  neither  shadow  of  turning." 
Here  again  the  mystery  is  repeated  :  sin  is  ascribed  to  the  sinner's  own 
act  and  deed,  according  to  his  own  free  will ;  and  all  that  is  good  is  as- 
cribed to  the  sovereign  grace  of  God.  Verily  God  hideth  himself  while 
he  revealeth  himself  Mercy  and  truth  go  before  his  face,  as  a  Saviour; 
justice  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne. 

Now,  dear  brethren,  observe  how  one  class  of  persons,  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  this  mystery,  as  they  vainly  think,  magnify  human  free-will  into 
the  turning-point  of  power  in  this  great  subject,  so  as  to  make  the  om- 
nipotent God  pause  in  his  designs  for  super-omnijiotent  man.  And  mark 
how  another  party,  to  get  rid  of  the  mystery,  as  they  vainly  think,  on  the 
other  side,  deny  the  human  free-agency,  and  make  man  a  piece  of  matter, 
as  a  machine.  iSTeither  of  these  two  things,  when  pressed  so  as  to  in- 
fringe upon  the  other,  can  be  true ;  yet  the  truth  lies  in  the  admission 
of  both  these  statements,  as  a  revelation  from  God  unexplained.  It  is  a 
mystery.  We  may  indeed  say  more  upon  this  point.  Here  God  hath 
revealed  himself;  not  unto  the  clearing-up  of  the  difficulty,  but  unto 
the  intelligent  view  of  it ;  so  far  that  we  have  become  intelligently  ig- 
norant. Is  that  a  contradiction  in  terms?  '•'•Intelligently  ignorantP 
No  }nan  will  say  so,  but  the  man  Avho  is  so  ignorant  as  not  to  be  con- 
scious of  his  own  ignorance.  The  wise  man  will  acknowledge,  that  the 
height  of  his  wisdom  consists  in  having  become  inteUigently  ignorant. 
It  is  of  the  nature  of  an  intelligent  creature  to  decide  upon  the  evidence 
])cforo  it ;  and  to  decide  freely  upon  that  evidence,  and  it  is  the  nature 
of  things,  that  God,  in  his  supreme  providence,  should  minister  whatever 
quantity  of  evidence,  upon  every  subject,  he  seeth  fit  to  every  person. 
Such  person,  theti,  decides  freely,  in  the  exercise  of  his  free-will,  upon 
the  evidence  submitted  to  him  ;  but  the  amount  of  evidence,  the  measure, 


MYSTERIES    IN     RELIGION.  575 

the  time,  the  place  of  the  evidence,  all  those  are  in  the  sovei-eign  disposal 
of  God  in  his  providence.  So  that,  by  ministering  a  certain  quantity  of 
evidence  to  a  man  upon  a  point,  the  decision  of  the  man's  mind,  accord- 
ing to  the  action  of  free-will,  is  secured,  without  any  violence  done  to  the 
constitution  of  the  moral  creature.  He  acts  freely  upon  the  evidence  he 
lias  ;  the  evidence,  the  quantity  of  it,  the  measure,  the  time,  the  place, 
all  the  outward  circumstances  connected*  with  it,  are  in  the  sovereign  dis- 
])0sal  of  God.  Has  any  man  the  whole  case  before  him,  in  all  its  bearing, 
direct  and  indirect,  present  and  future,  of  any  question  upon  which  he  is 
called  to  decide  ?  No  such  thing ;  the  man  must  needs  look  through 
futurity  into  eternity,  to  see  all  the  bearings  of  his  conduct :  but  upon 
v.liat  he  does  see,  he  acts  freely.  O,  verily  God  is  a  God  that  hideth 
himself  while  he  revealeth  himself. 

My  dear  brethren,  one  of  my  objects  at  this  time,  is  to  implore  you 
not  to  be  turned  back  from  the  simplicity  of  faith,  by  plausible  talk  about 
the  um-easonableuess  of  adimtting  mysteries.  It  is  a  time  when  .the 
foundations  of  our  faith  are  sifted ;  it  is  a  time  when  we,  who  are  the  au- 
tliorized  teachers  of  tlie  faith,  ought  to  grapple  with  these  sifthigs,  and 
go  to  the  foundations  themselves.  It  is  a  time  when  we  should  be  pre- 
pared to  stand  in  our  places,  and  meet  the  diversity  of  attacks  that  are 
made  upon  our  faith;  not  by  raihng  for  raiUng,  but  by  sound  teaching, 
tliat  the  minds  of  our  people,  being  in  possession  of  the  subject,  may  be 
foi  tilled,  not  to  retort  against  error,  but  to  reject  the  error,  and  to  be  quiet. 

Xow  let  us  take  another  point  in  which  God  verily  hideth  himself 
while  he  revealeth  himself,  and  in  which  Ave  must  again  find  a  mystery  : 
it  is  in  THE  Riches  of  his  atoxing  Love  in  Jesus  Christ. 

We  now  come  to  use  expressions  with  which  you  are  more  familiar  . 
but  if  you  Avill  examine  the  expressions,  you  will  find  that  they  in- 
volve you  in  a  mystery,  as  dark  and  as  inexplicable  as  either  of  the  two 
we  have  hitherto  touched  upon — cither  the  trinity  of  the  persons,  or  the 
absolute  sovereignty  of  disposal  in  the  Godhead.  "  God  so  loved  the 
Morld  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
liim  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life ;"  "  In  this  was  man- 
ifested the  love  of  God,  that  he  gave  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins  ;"  "  He  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us  who  knew  no  sin,  that 
we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him."  He  hath  laid  our 
sins  upon  him,  and  his  blood  "  cleanseth  from  all  sin."  "What  statements 
are  these  ?  For  "  sin  is  the  transgression  of  the  law ;"  the  law  is  the  ex- 
l»ression  of  God's  eternal  mind  and  truth  ;  not  one  jot  or  one  tittle  of  the 
law  can  be  made  void ;  it  must  all  be  fulfilled  ;  it  must  all  be  magnified 
as  the  expression  of  the  righteous  character  of  God.  An  offense  against 
that  high  and  gloi'ious  declaration  of  God's  character,  is  an  offense 
against  himself,  the  infinite  God.  The  demerit  of  the  offense  must  bear 
proportion  to  the  dignity  of  the  person  offended. 

Look  how  this  may  be  simply  illustrated  in  human  things.     Suppose 


576  HUGH    MACNEIL. 

a  man  were  to  commit  an  offense  consisting  of  the  act  of  striking  anothtir 
man  ;  the  punishment  jnstly  awarded  to  that  offender  will  vary  with  the 
dignity  of  the  person  struck.  If  the  man  struck  were  an  equal,  his  pun- 
ishment is  comparatively  light.  Suppose  the  offender  were  a  soldier  ; 
if  the  man  struck  be  his  commanding  officer,  his  punishment  is  en- 
hanced ;  if  the  man  struck  were  the  king,  his  offense  is  high  treason — ■ 
the  punishment  is  death.  Now  mark ;  the  offense  was  the  same  through- 
out ;  it  was  striking  a  man  ;  but  the  punishment  varies  with  the  position 
and  dignity  of  the  man  struck ;  so  that  from  a  petty  fine,  or  a  short  im- 
prisonment, for  striking  one  man,  the  punishment  is  magnified  into  de.ath 
for  striking  another  man. 

Apply  this  to  an  offense  against  the  infinite  God,  and  see  what  sort 
of  a  punishment  such  an  offense  calls  for ;  and  wlio  shall  bear  that  pun- 
ishment ?  Lay  it  upon  a  finite  creature — it  will  take  him  through  all 
eternity  to  endure,  and  he  will  never  have  finished  it ;  lor,  the  punish- 
ment being  infinite,  it  must  either  be  infinite  in  quantity  or  infinite  in 
time.  A  finite  creature  can  have  but  a  finite  quantity,  and  therefore  he 
must  have  an  infinite  time.  Who  shall  endure  that  punishment  so  as  to 
make  an  end  of  it  ?  Whoever  does  it  must  have  infinite  power  ;  and 
yet  the  punisment  to  be  endured  which  a  man  deserves  for  breaking  the 
la-R  of  God,  must  be  such  a  punishment  as  a  man  can  feel,  such  a  punish- 
ment as  can  attach  itself  to  the  constitution  of  a  man  ;  and  yet  we  have 
seen  that  it  must  be  such  as  can  appeal  with  infinity  to  claim  merit  be- 
fore God.  Who  shall  endure  it,  if  there  is  not  a  person  to  endnre  it, 
who,  while  he  has  a  divine  nature  to  give  infinity  to  every  pang,  has  a 
hiiman  nature  to  give  infinity  to  every  pang ;  so  that  every  suffering  shall 
apply  to  us,  and  have  merit  with  our  God  ?  If  there  be  not  such  a  suf- 
ferer, there  is  no  salvation.  And  how  can  there  be  such  a  sufferer  ? 
Here  is  the  mystery — the  mystery  of  the  holy  incarnation.  The  incar- 
nation is  the  proximate  mystery  of  redemption.  Who  can  explain  it  ? 
God  and  man  one  person  :  as  soul  and  body  compose  one  man,  God  and 
man  composing  one  Christ ;  so  that  the  lash  of  the  broken  law  shall  take 
effect  on  human  flesh,  and  the  reproaches  deserved  by  fallen  men  shall 
break  a  human  heart ;  and  yet  the  person  who  has  human  flesh  to  be 
lacerated,  and  a  human  heart  to  be  broken,  shall  have  merit  with  God, 
and  shall,  instead  of  being  exposed  to  the  punishment  throughout  eter- 
nity, be  able  to  concentrate  and  to  exhaust  the  punishment  at  once. 

Here  is  a  mystery.  Now,  I  am  well  persuaded  that  it  is  because  of 
being  invohed  in  this  very  mystery,  that  so  many  of  our  reasoning  and 
educated  fellow-countrymen  and  fellow-sinners  are,  in  mind,  if  not 
avowedly  in  creed,  rejecting  the  i^eculiarities  of  the  atonement.  But 
where  is  the  reason,  where  is  the  judgment,  where  is  the  superior  dis- 
cernment, of  refusing  the  proximate  lesson,  because  of  being  involved 
in  an  ultimate  mystery  ?  Let  me  appeal  again  to  the  astronomer  and 
to  the  anatomist ;  and  let  me  send  these  reasoning  Sociniana,  -y  others, 


MYSTERIES    IN    RELIGION.  577 

who  reject  the  atonement  because  of  the  mystery — let  me  send  them 
back  to  scliool  to  learn  where  there  is  any  science  without  a  mystery. 
Let  us  turn  them  to  their  own  hearts,  to  see  liow  tlie  movement  of  some 
iQysterious  visitant  within,  sliall  enable  them  to  move  the  fingers  and 
hands  without ;  and  when  they  have  explained  all  this,  and  made  it  per- 
fectly clear,  then  let  us  hear  their  reasoning  (but  not  before)  against  a 
mystery  in  religion. 

And  yet  again  :  when  the  glorious  statements  connected  with  the 
work  and  person  of  Jesus  Christ,  God  and  man  in  one  person,  are  made 
in  the  hearmg  of  men,  they  proclaim  such  a  manifestation  of  God's  love 
toward  man,  as  is  calculated  to  put  every  reasonable  being  upon  a  moral 
trial :  enough  is  done  for  every  man  that  has  the  reason  of  a  man,  and 
that  hears  the  word  of  God,  to  put  him  upon  a  moral  trial — a  trial  be- 
tween the  love  of  sin  and  the  love  of  God ;  the  love  of  God  manifested 
in  Clirist,  and  claiming  the  sinner's  love  in  return,  and  the  love  of  sin, 
experienced  in  the  heart  and  flesh,  holding  the  sinner  a  willing  captive. 
To  this  the  Saviour  appeals  when  he  says,  "  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear, 
let  him  hear."  He  that  hath  natural  capacities  to  hearken  to  other  sub- 
jects, to  be  influenced  by  what  he  hears,  to  be  induced  to  undertake 
self-denying  labors  upon  the  authoidty  of  evidence  given,  and  the  prac- 
tical power  of  that  evidence  over  his  moral  composition — he  that  hath 
ears  so  to  hear,  in  human  matters,  let  him  exact  those  moral  powers  in 
this  greater  matter,  and  lot  him  hear  the  love  of  God  manifested  in  his 
Son.  Thus  all  who  hear  the  gospel  are  put  upon  a  fresh  trial ;  they  are 
transferred  from  the  comparatively  untried  state  of  Tyre  and  Sidon, 
into  the  deeper  trial  of  Chorazin  and  Bethsaida.  The  result  of  that 
trutli,  owing  to  the  corruption  of  human  nature,  is,  according  to  the 
word  of  Truth,  that  men  love  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their 
deeds  ai-e  evil ;  and  that  they  all,  with  one  consent,  begin  to  make  ex- 
cuse. Tlien  what  must  be  the  consequence?  If  all,  with  one  consent, 
begin  to  make  excuse,  if  it  be  the  universal  characteristic  that  they  love 
darkness  rather  than  light,  then  is  the  light  cast  out.  And  so  it  would 
be,  but  that,  in  that  moral  trial,  when  every  reasonable  being  who  hears 
the  words  of  the  gospel,  is  put,  as  it  were,  upon  a  moral  pivot,  on  which 
he  is  to  turn  one  way  or  other,  and  incline  to  the  love  of  God  or  the 
love  of  sin — when  the  love  of  sin  has  overcome  him,  brings  him  down, 
and  he  is  making  excuses,  when  they  are  all,  with  one  consent,  making 
excuses — then  comes  the  effectual  grace  of  God,  the  effectual  energy  of 
salvation,  by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  turning  the  sinner  on  the 
right  side  of  this  pivot,  and  securing  him  to  God  forever. 

This  is  the  way  of  salvation  ;  if  it  were  not  for  this,  there  woiild  be 
no  salvation  at  all,  after  all  that  Christ  has  done.  And  this  is  the  execu- 
tion in  time,  and  from  day  to  day,  of  the  eternal  decree  of  God's  elec- 
tion. This  is  the  transcribing  into  the  book  of  the  church  the  names 
that  are  written  in  the  book  of  life. 

37 


578  HUGH    MACNEIL. 

This  is  God,  in  the  e^stergy  of  nis  savi^tg  Power  bt  the  Holt 
Ghost.  Now  here  there  is  a  mystery ;  for  if  man  be  so  fallen,  that  the 
moral  trial  he  is  put  upon  by  the  statements  of  redemption  in  Jesus 
Christ,  would  invariably  turn  against  him,  and  if  God  knows  this,  then 
it  seems  to  our  reasoning  mind,  very  like  a  mockery  of  our  misery  ;  and 
indeed  it  is  so  denounced  by  many.  Here  the  real  reason  is,  that  they 
will  not  have  a  mystery ;- they  will  judge  God  to  be  a  God  that  does  not 
hide  himself;  but  that  while  he  proclaims  himself  a  Saviour,  he  should 
leave  nothing  still  hidden.  Whereas,  though  known  as  a  Saviour,  he  is 
yet  a  God  that  hidcth  himself  in  many  particulars,  and  this  among  the 
rest.  There  is  honesty  in  his  invitations,  "  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye 
saved."  There  is  honesty  in  the  statement,  "  As  I  live,  I  have  no  pleas- 
ure in  the  death  of  him  that  dieth.  Why  will  ye  die  ?"  There  is  hon- 
esty in  the  command,  "  Repent  and  believe  the  gospel,  and  ye  shall  be 
saved."  There  is  honesty  in  the  promise,  "  Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive  ; 
seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you  f '  and 
there  is  truth  in  the  statement,  that  "  fliith  cometh  by  hearing,  and  hear- 
ing by  the  word  of  God."  And  here  is  a  mysterious  connection  between 
the  possession  of  the  outward  means,  and  the  reception  of  the  inward 
power.  It  is  in  the  means,  and  yet  not  invariably  in  the  means.  "Faith 
cometh  by  hearing ;"  yet  not  to  all  that  hear.  How  is  this  ?  God,  verily 
thou  dost  hide  thyself  from  us.  And  shall  we  refuse  these  facts  upon 
the  face  of  revelation,  because  the  admission  of  them  involves  us  in  a 
mystery  ?  Let  me  ask  again,  where  is  the  superior  discernment  of  this, 
where  is  the  judgment  in  this  case;  to  blot  out  these  pages  from  the 
Bible,  because  they  involve  us  in  a  mystery  by  their  admission — or 
again  to  admit  that  we  are  as  little  children,  and  to  receive  the  facts  of 
our  divine  philosophy  ?  The  facts  of  our  divine  philosophy  are  the 
verses  and  the  chapters  of  this  book  ;  and  he  is  no  philosopher  who  would 
reject  a  single  fact  because  it  involved  him  in  a  difficulty,  or  opposed 
some  previous  theory.  Nay,  how  is  all  sound  philosophy  followed,  and 
prosecuted  unto  truth,  but  by  holding  men's  theories  in  abeyance,  under 
the  command  of  fresh  facts,  so  that  fresh  facts  shall  rectify  theories,  and 
theories  shall  be  prostrated  before  facts  ?  And  so  should  men's  judg- 
ment be  before  verses  of  the  Bible ;  for  these  are  facts  from  God. 

Now  one  expression  more,  one  topic  briefly  touched  upon,  is  necessary 
here,  I  perceive  ;  for  the  force  of  the  moral  demonstration  I  am  offering 
you  step  by  step,  evidently  rests  on  the  reception  of  this  book  as  God's 
revelation.  If  a  man  say,  "I  deny  these  verses  are  revelation,"  the  sub- 
ject-matter of  the  dispute  is  altogether  changed  immediately.  I  should 
only  say  of  such  persons,  or  of  such  a  state  of  things,  at  present,  that 
the  evidence  for  the  revelation  is  not  mysterious.  The  evidence  for  the 
fact  of  the  revelation  is  let  down  to  the  men  ;  it  stands  on  historical 
testimony  ;  it  stands  in  its  miraculous  authority  before  the  eyes  of  men, 
corroborated  by  facts,  and  handed  down  by  authentic  testimony.     It 


MYSTERIES    IN.  RE  LIGION".  579 

stands  in  such  a  moral  demonstration,  connected  with  the  character  of 
the  first  promulgators  of  the  truth,  as  involves  the  men  who  deny  the 
revelation  in  greater  absurdity  of  crcdulousness,  than  those  who  receive 
it.  But  that  is  not  our  present  subject;  it  is  a  separate  and  important 
subject  in  its  own  place.  All  I  am  concerned  to  say  about  it  at  present, 
is,  that  the  evidence  for  the  origin  of  the  revelation  is  not  mysterious  ; 
it  is  let  down  within  the  reach  of  human  science  and  human  inquiry,  and 
any  man  who  refuses  to  inquire  about  it,  and  denies  it  in  ignorance,  de- 
serves the  consequences. 

Hero,  then,  my  brethren,  I  have  invited  you  to  contemplate  God  in 
these  four  aspects  in  which  he  is  set  befoi'e  us ;  some  statements  in  each 
made  clear,  brought  forward  into  the  front  ground  of  the  picture  ;  and 
in  each  a  mystery  hanging,  in  the  dimness  of  the  horizon,  upon  us. 
And  what  would  we  have  as  creatures  ?  Would  we  stand  upon  such  a 
pinnacle,  that  there  shall  be  no  horizon  ?  "  Vain  man  would  be  wise, 
though  he  be  born  like  the  ass's  colt ;"  and  because  he  has  intelligence 
enough  to  perceive  that  there  is  a  mystery,  and  pride  enough  to  refuse 
to  submit  to  it,  he  abuses  the  reason  and  intelligence  in  the  pride  of 
refusing  what  he  might  know,  because  he  can  not  know  what  God  still 
keeps  secret.  Be  ye  reconciled  to  mysteries  ;  and  be  ye  satisfied  with 
revelation.  These  are  the  statements,  my  brethren,  this  is  the  view  of 
things,  this  is  the  combination  of  truth,  for  which  our  forefathers  bled  iu 
this  land ;  without  attempting  to  explain  the  mysteries,  they  asserted 
and  re-asserted  the  ficts  of  the  case.  You  find  them  in  the  formularies 
of  the  Church ;  the  person  of  God,  declared  with  simplicity  and  plain- 
ness, and  not  attempted  to  be  explained  ;  the  sovereignty  of  God  pro- 
claimed, with  equal  simplicity  and  plaiimess,  in  the  evident  purpose 
which  he  purposed  in  Chirst  Jesus ;  the  all-sufliciency  of  the  atonement 
in  the  blood  of  Jesus,  proclaimed  distinctly ;  and  the  mysterious  com- 
bination of  God  and  man  in  one  person,  declared,  but  not  explained  ;  and 
the  invincible  energy  of  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  winning  the 
will  of  the  sinner.  And  being  made  willing  in  the  day  of  God's  power, 
he  shall  run  in  the  way  of  God's  commandment,  and  delight  in  the 
knowledge  of  God  himself;  and  so  go  on  in  good  works,  arising  out 
of  the  love  of  God  in  his  heart,  and  dictated  by  the  glory  of  his  heav- 
enly Father  in  tliis  life,  unto  eternal  salvation. 

And  if  there  be  a  man  or  woman  here  present  who  is  yet  a  stranger 
to  these  things,  and  knows  not  the  power  of  this  grace,  may  God,  in  his 
infinite  mercy,  render  now  what  I  have  been  permitted  to  say  a  blessing 
to  such  one.  Let  a  mystery  be  recognized  ;  let  objections  be  given  up  ; 
let  the  vain  strugglings  of  a  pi-oud  understanding  be  prostrated  ;  O  let 
your  hearts  be  touched.  Fellow-sinnei*,  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in 
Jesus ;  yield  to  your  own  conscience  ;  seek  the  Holy  Ghost — ask,  and 
ye  shall  receive,  for  God  is  true. 


DISCOURSE      ILL 


THOMAS    BINNEY,     D.D.,    LL.D. 

Tms  prominent  leader  among  the  Coi:  gregationalists  of  England,  is  a  native  of 
Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  where  he  was  born  April  30th,  1798.  His  father  was  an 
elder  in  the  Presbyterian  church,  with  which  denomination  he  united,  upon  profes- 
sion, when  17  years  of  age. 

He  was  educated  for  the  ministry  at  Wynardley,  Hertfordshire,  at  the  academy 
endowed  by  Mr.  Coward,  and  in  1824  became  minister  of  St.  James-street  chapel, 
Newport,  Isle  of  Wight.  In  1829,  he  removed  to  London  to  become  the  minister 
of  the  congregation  then  meeting  in  a  spacious  hall  then  over  the  Weigh-house  in 
Little  Eastcheap,  where  was  formerly  placed  the  king's  beam,  with  which  foreign 
merchandise,  brought  to  the  port  of  London,  was  weighed.  In  1833  the  audience 
bad  so  much  increased  as  to  render  necessary  the  erection  of  the  new  Weigh-house 
Chapel  on  Fish-street-hill.  His  congregation  is  very  large  and  respectable,  often 
reaching  as  high  as  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  hearers,  and  embracing  many  of  the 
most  influential  laymen  among  the  dissenters. 

The  i^ersonal  appearance  of  Dr.  Binney  is  in  his  favor.  He  is  represented  as  tall 
and  athletic,  with  a  slight  approach  to  corpulency.  His  shoulders  are  high  and 
rather  broad,  with  a  fine,  pleasant,  open  countenance ;  a  clear  complexion,  hair  of  a 
dark  brown  color — now  becoming  white,  and  a  face  of  the  oval  form,  slightly  taper- 
ing toward  the  cliin.  He  is  said  to  have  one  of  the  best  developed  foreheads  ever 
seen.  "  We  never  beheld,"  says  a  careful  observer,  "  such  a  lofty,  massive,  highly 
intellectual  forehead  as  Binney's ;  it  seems  piled  up — story  upon  story  of  brain,  built 
each  over  the  other — and  yet  it  is  symmetrical.  We  should  think  there  was  enough 
cerebral  matter  in  his  cranium,  to  serve  for  half  a  dozen  moderately  clever  men." 

His  voice  is  deep  and  solemn,  and  his  manner  quite  variable — sometimes  animated 
in  the  highest  degree,  and  sometimes  cool  and  collected.  So,  too,  is  the  character 
of  his  sermons  very  dissimilar.  A  friend  related  to  us  a  frequent  and  playful  remark 
which  his  wife  used  to  make.  "  Thomas  can  preach  as  good  a  sermon  as  any  other 
man  can;  and  Thomas  can  preach  as  poor  a  sermon  as  any  other  man."  He  is  often 
quite  eccentric ;  deals  sometimes  in  the  keenest  irony,  and  then  again  in  the  most 
crushing  logic ;  is  often  metaphysical  in  his  preaching,  and  then  poetical  and 
descriptive  in  the  highest  degree.  He  announces  his  text  in  a  low  tone,  and  seldom 
raises  his  voice ;  but  goes  on.,  now  appearing  to  struggle  Avith  the  ideas  which  crowd 
on  his  mind,  and  now  pouring  them  forth  in  a  continuous  stream.  His  action  is  pe- 
culiar, and  chiefly  consists  in  his  placing  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  on  the  palm 
of  his  left,  or  in  running  his  fingers  throu  "jh  his  hair,  thus  tossing  it  about  in  the 
most  careless  manner  imaginable. 

Dr.  Binney  is  not  extensively  known  as  an  author,  except  by  means  of  his  nu- 


LIFE    AND    IMMORTALITY    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.        581 

merous  polemical  and  occasional  pamphlets.  He  published,  however,  in  1839,  a 
volume  of  considerable  size,  on  "  The  Practical  Power  of  Faith."  A  lecture,  too, 
originally  delivered  before  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Association,  has  been  ex 
panded  into  a  very  popular  volume,  entitled  ''Is  it  possible  to  make  the  best  of  botJi 
worlds?" 

The  sermon  which  he  has  sent  for  tliis  woi'k,  was  preached  at  the  funeral  of  Rev 
Algernon  Wells,  in  1851,  and  published  in  a  large  pamphlet  form.  Its  very  great 
length  renders  it  necessary  to  omit  the  first  division  of  the  subject,  where  a  very 
plain  and  simple  statement  of  the  proofs  of  the  Jewish  faith  in  a  future  life,  are  given. 
We  begin  where  the  preacher  grasps  and  expands  the  chief  idea  of  the  text. 
Some  passages  of  this  discourse  have  been  commented  upon  as  exceedingly  elo- 
quent For  example,  this,  near  the  close,  which,  with  its  connection,  approaches  a 
fine  prose-poem : — 

"  ^Tkeii  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  js  written,  Death  is  swalt.owed 
UP  IN  Victory.'  'So  let  a,ll  thine  enemies  perish,'  0  Christ;  and  '  Let  them  that  love 
thee,  be  as  the  sun,  when  he  goeth  forth  in  his  might.'  They  shall  be  this,  for  they 
ehall  be  '  sons  of  light,'  being  '  children  of  the  resurrection ;'  and  shall  shine  as  the 
Btars,  and  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  forever  and  ever.'  As  a  wreck  may 
sink  in  the  sea,  and  the  ocean  close  over  it,  so  that  not  a  vestige  of  its  existence 
shall  remain,  nor  a  ripple  on  the  surface  tell  that  it  was  ;  so  shall  mortality  be  swal- 
h  iced  up  o/LrFE — immortal  life,  life,  sinless,  god-like,  divine.  Nor  shall  there  be 
wanting  the  voice  of  rejoicing,  as  heard  at  the  termination  of  successful  war,  for 
'  Death  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  Victory.'  " 


LIFE  AND  IMMORTALITY  BROUGHT  TO  LIGHT. 

"Our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  hath  abolished  death,  and  hath  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light  through  the  gospel." — 2  TiM.,  L  10. 

At  first  sight,  these  words  would  seem  to  express  more  than  they  can 
tliirly  be  supposed  to  mean.  The  two  statements  made,  taken  absolutely, 
are  contradicted — the  first,  by  a  fact  in  providence,  daily  before  our  eyes ; 
the  second,  by  a  fact  in  history,  a])prehcnded  by  our  understanding. 
Death  is  not  "  abolished"  since  the  appearance  of  Christ ;  and  the  doc- 
trine of  "  immortality"  did  not  remain  to  be  "brought  to  light"  by  his 
advent.  Among  both  Jews  and  Gentiles,  previous  to  his  coming,  there 
was  a  belief  of  a  future,  immortal  life  ;  and,  since  his  resurrection,  death 
Ktill  reigns  over  the  whole  race,  just  as  it  reigned  "  froTU  Adam  to  Moses," 
or  from  Moses  to  Malachi.  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  the  text  must 
mean  something  less  than  what  it  seems  to  say,  or  something  diftorent 
from  its  literal  or  conventional  import.  A  single  remark  may  help  us  to 
the  apprehension  of  this  modified  meaning.  • 

The  word  which  in  the  passage  before  us,  is  rendered  "abolished,"  is 
rendered  "destroyed"  in  the  14th  verse  of  the  second  of  Hebrews.  It 
is  there  said,  that  Christ  "  took  flesh  and  blood,"  that,  "  through  death, 


582  THOMAS    BINNET. 

he  might  destroy  ma:  that  had  the  power  of  death,  that  is,  the  devil  ; 
and  deliver  them  who,  through  fear  of  death,  were  all  their  lifetime  sub- 
ject to  bondage."  We  can  not  be  far  wrong,  I  think,  in  inferring  from 
this,  that  Christ  has  abolished  death  in  some  sense  similar  to  that  in 
which  he  has  destroyed  tlie  devil ;  that  is  to  say,  that,  without  literally 
annihilating  either,  he  has  so  wrought  against,  and  so  far  weakened  and 
subdued  them,  as  to  restrain  them  from  hurting  those  that  are  his.  With 
respect  to  the  word  rendered  "brought  to  light,"  it  may  be  observed, 
that  it  does  not  so  much  mean  to  discover,  or  make  known,  as  a  new 
thing — which  is  the  ordinary  imj^ort  of  the  English  phrase — ^but  to  illus- 
trate, clear  up,  or  cast  light  njx>n  a  thing ;  it  thus  assumes  the  previous 
existence  of  that  which  is  illustrated,  but  it  asserts  the  fact  of  its  fuller 
manifestation. 

Thus  explained,  the  meaning  of  the  text  would  amount  to  this,  or  may 
thus  be  25araphrased  : — Previous  to  the  coming  of  Christ,  the  idea  of  im- 
mortal life  stood  before  the  human,  or  the  Hebrew  mind,  like  some  vast 
object  in  the  morning  twilight ;  it  was  dimly  descried,  and  imperfectly 
apprehended,  through  the  mist  and  clouds  that  hung  upon  or  invested  it. 
In  like  manner.  Death,  seen  through  that  same  darkness  (for  "  the  light 
was  as  darkness")  was  something  that  appeared  ^'  very  terrible,"  and 
made  many,  "  all  their  lifetime,  subject  to  bondage."  The  advent  of  the 
Messiah,  including  the  whole  of  his  teaching  and  woi'k — the  "appearing" 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  "the  light  of  the  woi'ld,"  and  "the  sun  of 
righteousness" — was,  to  these  spiritual  objects,  like  the  rising,  on  the 
natural  world,  of  that  luminary,  whose  power  and  splendor  symbolized 
his  glory  in  prophetic  song !  To  those  who  received  him,  Avhose  reason  and 
heart  he  alike  illuminated,  the  outward  became  clear  and  the  inward 
calm ;  the  shadows  departed,  and  fear  was  subdued  ;  objective  truth  had 
hght  cast  upon  it  that  made  it  manifest,  and  "  the  king  of  teiTors,"  seen 
in  the  sun-light,  was  discovered  to  have  an  aspect  that  did  not  terrify ! 

After  this  exposition  of  the  text,  we  proceed  to  show  ix  what  way 

IMMORTALITY  WAS  ILLUSTRATED,  AND  DEATH  ABOLISHED,  BY  OUR  LORD 
JESUS    CHRIST,    THROUGH    THE   GOSPEL. 

1.  In  the  first  place,  he  gave  certainty  and  assurance  to  the  ])crpxilar 
expectation,  exalting  it  from  an  opinion  to  a  revealed  and  ascertained 
truth.  He  could  not  announce  immortality  as  a  new  thing.  He  never 
pretended  to  do  that.  He  found  the  people  in  posse&sion  of  the  general 
idea,  and  he  confirmed  it ;  he  found  it  believed  and  disbelieved,  and  he 
took  the  positive  side.  As  a  prophet,  he  spake  of  the  future  life  with  au- 
thority, and  by  that  authority  presented  it  to  faith.  Contending  with 
objectors,  he  reasoned  with  demonstration,  and  by  that  demonstration 
convicted  them  of  error  as  "  not  knowing  the  Scripture  nor  the  power  ol 
God."  He  cast  light  on  the  meaning  of  Scripture,  and  brought  out  from 
beneath  the  surface,  treisures  of  truth  that  lay  concealed  there.    He 


LIFE    AND    IMMCRTALITT    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.       583 

«^oke  of  heaven,  and  of  heavenly  things — of  eternity  and  accountable 
ness,  of  the  day  of  judgment,  and  the  resurrection  of  the  dead — con- 
stantly and  familiarly.  No  one  could  mistake  him.  There  could  he  no 
doubt  as  to  what  his  doctrine  was.  His  views  were  distinct ;  they  were 
frequently  expressed ;  they  were  often  vividly  and  largely  amplified. 
Moses  might  be  obscure — there  might  be  two  opinions  as  to  the  natuie 
of  Ida  teaching — but  Christ's  was  transparent;  it  might  be  rejected,  but 
it  could  not  be  misunderstood. 

The  first  five  books  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  the  first  five  books  ot 
the  New,  are  a  perfect  contrast  in  respect  to  their  disclosures  on  the  sub- 
ject before  us.  You  read  the  Law,  and  you  meet  with  nothing,  or  next 
to  nothing,  bearing  distinctly  on  the  future  life ;  you  feel  everywhere  the 
pomp  or  pressure  of  the  present.  You  read  the  Gospels,  and  you  are 
continually  face  to  fiice  with  the  future — the  present  and  passing  are 
utterly  lost  in  the  solemnity  and  grandeur  of  what  is  to  come.  Our 
Lord  was  minute.  He  often  descended  from  that  sublime  vagueness 
which  so  naturally  invests  views  of  the  future,  and  dilated  on  various 
accidents  and  accessories  of  the  grand  events  which  he  authenticated  or 
ibretold.  "  The  Son  of  man  was  to  come  in  his  glory,"  and  "  in  the 
glory  of  his  Father,"  and  "  with  his  holy  angels ;"  "  the  dead  that  were 
in  the  graves  were  to  hear  his  voice,  and  were  to  come  forth ;"  he  was 
to  be  seen  "  sitting  on  the  throne  of  his  glory,  and  before  him  were  to  be 
gathered  all  nations."  Speaking  afterward,  through  his  Spirit  in  the 
apostles,  he  revealed  other  and  similar  wonders.  He  was  to  come  with 
"suddenness;"  "as  a  thief  in  the  night;"  "in  the  clouds  of  heaven  ;" 
"  at  the  last  trump  ;"  "  with  the  voice  of  an  archangel  and  the  clarion  ot 
God  !''  "  A  mystery"  was  made  known,  and  information  communicated, 
respecting  "  them  that  should  be  alive  and  remain  to  the  coming  of  the 
Lord,"  "  Flesh  and  blood"  could  not  inherit  the  future  world,  "  neither 
could  corruption  inherit  incorruption  ;"  it  was  revealed,  therefore,  and 
declared  that  they  that  "  sleep"  and  they  that  "  wake"  should  equally  be 
transformed — that  the  dead  and  the  living  should  alike  be  "  changed  ;" 
that  all  present  physical  relationships  should  cease  and  determine,  should 
end  with  the  world  in  which  they  originated,  and  should  be  superseded 
by  higher  spiritual  ties,  replaced  by  deeper  and  richer  affinities,  in  that 
world  "  whei-e  they  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in  marriage,"  and  where 
those  who  have  been  found  worthy  to  attain  it  "  are  equal  to  the  angels, 
and  can  die  no  more," 

2.  This  glorious  life  was  not  only  thus  distinctly  revealed  or  recog- 
nized as  a  reality,  but,  in  the  new  law  given  to  the  church  in  the  writings 
of  the  apostles,  as  the  Spirit  of  Christ  guided  them  in  the  apprehension 
and  the  uses  of  the  truth,  it  was  constantly  applied  to  practical  pur- 
poses. All  the  powerful  and  invigorating  motives  brought  to  operate 
on  the  Christian  mind  to  animate  and  to  jjurit'y  it,  are  drawn  from  the 
views  given  by  Christ  of  the  future  world,  and  from  himself  as  connected 


584  THOMAS    BINNET. 

with  it — as  securing  it  by  his  passion,  preparing  it  by  liis  power,  adorn- 
ing it  with  his  presence,  and  lilling  it  with  liis  glory.  In  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, motives  for  action  are  drawn  from  the  grave — ^frora  its  silence  and 
darkness ;  its  weary  solitude ;  its  lying  beyond  the  region  of  "  device" 
and  "knowledge,"  "wisdom"  and  "work."  The  "fear  that  hath  tor- 
ment" and  that  drives  to  duty,  predominates  over  the  love  that  enlarges 
the  heart  and  makes  obedience  a  joy.  In  the  New  Testament,  the  grave 
is  almost  lost  in  the  vision  of  "  tlie  glory  that  is  about  to  be  revealed  ;" 
that  glory  breaks  forth,  gleams  and  gushes  over  the  path  of  the  faithful, 
compelling  them,  as  it  were,  to  keep  looking  to  the  place  where  their  Lord 
lives,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  living  with  him.  The  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead ;  the  transfiguration  of  the  living ;  "  the  vile  body" 
changed  into  the  likeness  of  Christ's  "  glorious  body  ;"  the  earthly  and 
corruptible  image  of  the  first,  giving  place  to  that  of  the  second,  man — 
"the  Lord  from  heaven;"  "the  glorious  appearing  of  the  gi-eat  God  and 
our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ ;"  "  the  grace  that  is  to  be  brought  unto  us," 
when  "  we  shall  be  made  like  him  and  shall  see  him  as  he  is ;"  "  our  gath- 
ering together  unto  him" — these  things,  and  such  as  these,  are  the  con- 
stant burden  (or  the  ceaseless  joy,  rather),  of  apostolic  pens;  the  themes 
with  which  the  writers  glow  and  burn ;  to  which  they  are  continiuilly 
referring  with  delight,  and  by  which  they  endeavor  to  diffuse  through- 
out the  church  the  atmosphere  of  spiritual  health — the  conservative 
element  of  practical  obedience. 

They  speak  little  of  the  immediate  advantages  of  goodness,  though 
they  are  not  unaware  of,  and  do  not  despise  them ;  they  seldom  look  at 
the  sepulchre  itselt^  or  look  at  it  long,  though  they  can  feel  its  force  as  a 
motive  to  virtue ;  but,  getting  into  a  region  which  Moses  and  the  proph- 
ets never  reached  ;  gathering  together  and  setting  forth  the  grand 
objects  of  Christian  expectation ;  and  doing  this  in  connection  with  the 
"  passing  away"  of  the  heavens,  the  "  dissolving"  of  the  elements,  and 
the  "  burning  up"  of  the  earth  and  the  world — they  urge  their  arguments 
and  make  their  appeals,  with  a  point  and  a  pungency  Avhich  it  is  utterly 
impossible  to  gainsay  or  resist.  "  Seeing  then  that  all  these  things  shall 
be  dissolved,  what  manner  of  persons  ought  ye  to  be  in  all  holy  conver- 
sation and  godliness,  looking  for  and  hasting  to  the  coming  of  the  day 
of  God  ?"  "  Seeing  that  ye  look  for  such  things,  be  dihgent  that  ye  may 
be  found  of  him  in  peace,  without  spot  and  blameless."  "  Gird  up 
the  loins  of  your  mind,  be  sober,  and  hope  to  the  end,  for  the  grace  that 
is  to  be  brought  unto  you  at  the  revelation  of  Jesus  Christ."  "  Little 
children,  abide  in  him,  that,  Avhen  he  shall  appear,  ye  may  have  confi- 
dence, and  not  be  ashamed  before  him  at  his  coming."  The  heavens 
"  open"  over  the  heads  of  the  apostles,  and  the  face  of  each  of  them  is 
"  as  the  face  of  an  angel,"  while,  thus  realizing  the  coming  glory,  they 
exhort  the  church  to  a  life  and  conversation  becoming  the  hope  of  it. 

3.  In  addition  to  being  thus  accepted  or  authenticated  by  Christ  and 


LIFE    AND    IMMORTALITY    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.       535 

applied  to  the  highest  practical  purposes,  the  doctrine  was,  by  the  gos- 
pel, aathorUatively  pronmlgatcd  to  the  world.  It  became  the  i)roperty 
of  the  whole  race,  and  was  sent  forth  upon  its  mission  for  all  time.  So 
far  as  the  Jewish  belief  rested  upon  the  Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament, 
it  had  something  of. a  local  and  national  aspect;  Christ  broke  the  fetters 
that  bound  the  book  to  the  Jewish  territory  and  the  Hebrew  people,  and 
sent  it  forth  as  the  inheritance  of  the  world.  So  far  as  the  behef  sprang 
fi-om  general  reasonhig  and  logical  probabilities,  it  was  the  same  as  any 
of  the  theories  of  the  Gentiles — a  thing  that  required  divine  confirma- 
tion in  order  to  its  being  invested  with  regal  authority.  By  his  utter- 
ances, whose  words  were  "with  power,"  who  "spake  as  never  man 
spake,"  who  "gave  himself  a  ransom  for  all,"  and  who  came  to  be  "the 
light  of  the  world,"  the  doctrine  he  adopted,  enlarged,  and  ratified,  was 
stamped  with  the  character  of  universality,  and  was  commanded  to  be 
carried,  to  Jew  and  Gentile  equally  and  alike.  It  put  on  the  aspect,  and 
assumed  the  attitude  of  a  new  truth  direct  from  heaven ;  it  had  to  go 
forth,  and  present  itself  to  the  acceptance,  and  to  demand  the  homage 
of  every  individual  of  the  human  family — even  as  it  was  worthy  of  all 
acceptation,  and  deserved  the  submission  of  every  soul.  It  was  spread 
abroad  to  disperse  the  doubts,  and  to  remove  the  perplexities  of  the  hu- 
man understanding;  to  fix  the  faith  and  satisfy  the  hunger  of  the  human 
heart.  It  was  proclaimed  as  a  part  of  the  "  common  salvation,"  and 
ofl:cred  to  all  as  a  common  hope.  It  was  commissioned  to  ask  for  uni- 
versal welcome,  and  to  be  received  and  prized  as  a  imiversal  good  ;  to 
sit  as  a  thing  divinely  revealed  and  infallibly  true — the  queen  and  mis- 
tress of  all  minds — speaking  with  authority  wherever  it  came,  and  claim- 
ing to  speak  the  world  over — to  Jew  and  Greek ;  the  wise  and  the  unwise ; 
barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  or  free ;  monotheist  or  idolater  ;  to  those  who 
were  "  without  God,"  and  to  those  who  erected  altars  to  the  "  un- 
known"— in  all  schools  of  learning  and  religion — in  all  places  of  super- 
stition and  ignorance — where  God  was  either  worshiped  or  mocked — 
where  truth  was  either  sought  for  or  despised, 

4.  In  addition  to  all  this,  it  is  next  to  be  remarked,  that  the  docti-ine 
thus,  as  a  truth,  confirmed,  used,  and  given  to  the  race,  was,  as  a  fact, 
exemplified  in  the  person  of  the  Lord  himself. 

Christ  taught  not  so  much  the  immortality  of  the  soul  as  the  resur- 
rection of  the  body — or  at  least  the  resurrection  of  the  dead  ;  and  not 
only  their  resurrection,  but  their  incorruption.  He  revealed  the  fact,* 
that  "  as  there  is  a  natural  body,"  so  there  is  to  be  "  a  spiritual  body," 
and  that  tliis  body  is  to  be  as  inefiably  glorious  as  it  will  be  found  to  be 
infalUbly  ininiortal.  Every  thing  that  ho  taught  he  exemplified  in  him- 
self. "  He  took  flesh  and  blood"  that  he  "  might  taste  death,"  or  be 
capable  of  death,  and  he  did  die ;  he  rose  again  from  the  dead ;  in  the 
same  body,  indeed,  in  which  he  died,  but  destined  to  be  speedily 
"  changed"  and  "  fashioned"  according  to  that  glorious  and  perfect  type, 


586  THOMAS    BINNEY. 

which  had  ever  existed  in  the  divine  mind.  It  teas  thus  fashioned,  trans- 
formed, and  spiritualized,  at  his  ascension.  When  he  rose  to  take  his 
seat  at  the  right  hand  of  God — just,  probably  as  he  was  lifted  from  the 
earth — "  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,"  all  the  attributes  of 
his  being  were  altered.  "He  put  on  incorruption."  "He  now  dietli 
no  more ;  death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  him."  Having  "  died 
once,"  and  "  risen  again,"  he  now  "  liveth  forever" — the  nature  he  as- 
sumed being  at  once  filled  and  invested  with  a  divine,  glorious,  and  in- 
corruptible life  ! 

Now,  the  whole  of  what  we  thus  ascribe  to  the  Redeemer  had  never 
before  been  combined  and  exhibited  in  the  same  person.  Others  had 
been  raised  from  death  to  life — some  had  been  translated  without  dying 
— yet  he  was  "  the  first-begotten  from  the  dead,"  "  the  first-fruits  of 
them  that  sleep."  In  "  all  things"  he  was  to  have  "  the  pre-eminence  ;'' 
and  he  has  it  in  this,  as  well  as  in  others,  that  he  was  the  first  of  the 
race  (as  yet  the  only  one),  who  was  "  made  perfect"  in  respect  to  a// that 
was  possible  to  humanity.  Enoch  and  Elijah  had  been  miraculously 
translated,  but  they  did  not  die.  Lazarus  and  others  were  raised  fi-om 
the  grave,  but  they  came  forth  to  die  again.  In  Christ  alone  tlie  entire 
process  was  successively  passed  through  in  all  its  jjarts,  and  carried  on  to 
its  ultimate  completeness.  He  died  and  was  buried — he  was  raised  and 
changed — he  ascended  into  heaven  and  was  glorified  there !  It  was 
meet  and  fitting  that  it  should  thus  be,  with  him  who  is  at  once  the 
model  and  the  Master.  "  He  died,  rose  again,  and  re-Hves,  and  is  the 
Lord  alike  of  the  dead  and  the  living." 

Moses,  it  is  true,  of  whom  it  is  said  that  he  was  "  buried,"  appeared 
on  the  mount  of  transfiguration ;  but  as  we  have  no  reason  to  believe 
that  he  was  raised  from  the  grave  for  the  purpose,  but  only  assumed  the 
appearance,  for  the  sake  of  visibility,  of  a  glorified  man,  this  does  not 
subvert  the  position  we  have  taken.  The  case  of  Elijah  was  different 
from  his  ;  and  you  observe,  in  jjassing,  that  the  event  we  are  referring  to, 
when  connected  with  a  remark  formerly  made,  strikingly  shows  how 
literallt/  it  might  be  said  that  Christ  "  illustrated,"  or  "  threw  light  on," 
life  and  immortality.  The  sons  of  the  prophets  thought  and  suggested, 
"  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  might  have  tin-own  Elijah  on  some  raoimt- 
ain,  or  into  some  valley."  Christ,  if  we  may  so  speak,  produced  Elijah, 
— brought  him  forth  from  his  mysterious  abode,  and  set  him  before  the 
•disciples  invested  with  the  luster  of  a  beatified  immortal,  and  thus 
showeil  to  the  three,  and  through  them  to  the  church,  what  the  upper 
life  rt- ally  is !  Low,  carnal,  and  mistaken  conceptions  wei'e  thus  at  once 
cori-ected  and  rebuked ;  although  it  still  remained  for  the  Lord  himself 
to  exhibit  the  perfect  in  his  own  person. 

5,  In  the  last  place,  the  life,  which  was  thus  authenticated  by  the  doc- 
trine, and  exemi)lified  in  the  person  of  Christ,  is  further  "  illustrated" 
"  through  the  gospel^^''  as  the  gospel,  properly  so  called,  explains,  in  some 


LIFE    AND    IMMORTALITY    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.       587 

degree,  in  what  way  the  blessing  has  been  secured  for  us,  and  is  brought 
within  our  reach. 

Christ  came — it  may  witliout  aifectation  or  paradox  be  said — not  so 
much  to  "  preach"  the  gospel,  as  to  he  the  gospel.  He  came  to  do  some, 
thing ;  to  do  that  which  should  constitute  the  essence  of  the  "  glad 
tidings"  which  others  were  to  go  forth  to  preach  and  to  proclaim.  If 
the  gosjiel  consisted  merely  in  the  assurance  of  the  efficacy  of  repentance, 
a  call  to  reformation,  and  the  authoritative  announcement  of  "  life  and 
immortality,"  it  is  sufficiently  obvious  that  any  well-attested  prophetic 
teacher  would  have  been  competent  to  the  task ; — the  whole  thing,  in 
fact,  was,  in  this  view  of  it,  already  done,  before  the  Messiah  appeared  m 
the  flesh.  When  he  did  appear,  though  he  confii-med  and  enlarged  ex- 
isting truth,  and  added  many  important  discoveries,  still  he  did  not  so 
much  appear  to  speak,  as  to  act ;  his  work  was  not  so  much  to  teach,  as 
to  accompHsh ;  and  what  he  had  to  accomplish  was  to  be  eftected  more 
by  his  death  than  by  his  life ;  he  was  the  only  being  that  ever  visited  our 
world  of  whom  it  could  be  said,  that  the  grand  object  of  his  mission  was 
to  die ! 

If  the  gospel  be  regarded  as  only  the  verbal  (though  divine)  authenti- 
cation of  immortality,  Jesus  must  be  reduced,  in  almost  all  respects,  to 
the  ordinary  prophetic  standard,  as  nothing  more  would  have  been 
necessary;  but  if  the  New  Testament  representations  (or  the  obvious,  or 
popular,  import  of  those  representations)  of  the  Person  and  Work  of  Tho 
Christ  are  admitted,  it  will  then  follow  that  the  gospel  must  be  some- 
thing more  than  didactic  preaching  or  dogmatic  discovery,  since  it  re- 
quired the  wonders  of  incarnation  and  sacrifice.  "  Eternal  hfe"  is  the 
gift  of  God,  "  through  Jesus  CliristP  The  gospel  is  "  the  promise  of  life, 
through  Jesus  Christ.''''  He  is  not  a  voice  merely,  announcing  a  fact ; 
but  a  power  and  a  personality  achieving  an  accomplishment.  He  e^ectu- 
ates  something — something  which,  if  it  had  not  been  done,  the  "  promise" 
brought  could  not  have  been  made — the  "  flxct"  declared  would  not  have 
existed!  To  attemjjt  fully  to  grasp  this  subject,  in  a  discourse  like  the 
present,  would  be  useless  and  vain ;  it  would  be  to  go  over,  or  to  pretend 
to  go  over,  the  whole  field  of  evangeUcal  interpretation  of  the  Christian 
writings,  and  to  discuss  the  rationale  of  the  plan  of  redemption,  and  the 
heights  and  depths  and  varied  aspects  of  the  New  Testament  represent- 
ations of  the  Redeemer.  We  purpose,  therefore,  to  confine  ourselves  to 
one  thing ;  to  select  one  statement  out  of  the  multitude  of  Sci'ipture 
statements  on  this  subject ;  a  single  utterance — a  far-sounding  and  deeply 
suggestive  utterance  we  admit — one,  however,  recommended  to  our  se- 
lection by  its  direct  bearing  on  the  topic  in  hand.  We  shall  take  this, 
confine  ourselves  to  it,  and  out  of  it  bring  forth  what,  we  trust,  will  be  a 
sufficient  exposition  of  the  point  or  principle  which,  in  tliis  last  particular, 
we  wish  to  elucidate. 

The  manner,  then,  in  which  Christ  delivers  us  from  death,  and  is  at 


588  THOMAS    BINNET. 

length  to  confer  iq^on  us  an  incorruptible  life,  may  be  gathered,  in  some 
measure,  from  the  comprehensive  words  in  which  the  apostle  concludes 
his  discourse  on  the  resurrection,  in  the  1st  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians, 
15th  chapter,  55th,  56th,  and  57th  verses :  "  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting? 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  The  sting  of  death  is  sin ;  and  the 
strength  of  sin  is  the  law.  But  thanks  be  to  God,  which  giveth  us  the 
victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'''' 

Now,  venturing  to  follow  the  flight  of  the  apostle  as  he  rises  into  the 
regions  of  passion  and  poetry — which  are  only,  however,  those  of  truth 
and  argument  Avhen  instinct  with  life  and  invested  with  beauty;  the 
reason  helped  by  the  imagination  to  apprehend  spiritual  objective  reali- 
ties, or  to  trace  the  course  of  a  logical  process — rising  with  the  apostle 
thither,  and  using  the  personifications  which  he  has  fixed  glowing  and 
alive  in  his  language,  the  general  import,  we  should  say,  of  these  pregnant 
expressions  might  be  given,  sufficiently  for  our  j^resent  purpose,  in  the 
following  form :  Man  has  four  enemies  opposing  his  entrance  on  immor- 
tal life — the  Grave,  Death,  Sin,  and  the  Law,  The  Law  is  violated  by 
Sin ;  Sin  is  punitively  succeeded  by  Death ;  the  Grave  receives  the 
dead.  Now,  to  make  humanity  immortal,  the  remedy  for  its  condition 
must  appropriately  reach  every  step  of  the  process,  and  must  conquer,  or 
conciliate,  each  of  the  adversaries.  It  might  be  thought  that  omnipo- 
tence had  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  the  matter  into  its  own  hand,  and 
to  make  man  immortal,  good,  atid  happy,  if  it  so  willed.  It  is  forgot- 
ten often,  that  omnipotence  has  its  limits — that  there  are  objects  which 
it  can  not  touch,  and  regions  into  which  it  can  not  enter. 

Observe  its  action  in  relation  to  the  four  adversaries  of  humanity  as 
now  standing  before  us,  and  mark  where  it  would  be  stopped,  if  it  acted 
alone,  in  seeking  to  secure  or  achieve  our  deliverance.  By  mere  power 
God  could  raise  the  dead  to  life.  He  could  thus  conquer  the  (rraue,  and 
compel  it  to  "  yield  up"  its  dead.  Supposing  Death  stood  ready  to  meet 
them  as  they  returned,  and  to  inflict  upon  them  his  stroke  again ;  then, 
by  mere  power,  God  could  subdue  him,  and  could  continue  men  forever 
on  the  earth.  But  this  would  not  be  a  desirable  immortality,  nor  is  it 
that  either  of  the  Christian  Scriptures  or  of  human  speculation.  The 
two  other  adversaries  must  be  met,  if  man  is  to  attain  such  an  immor- 
taUty  as  his  nature  craves  and  the  Bible  predicts ;  and  the  question  is, 
whether  these,  also,  can  be  got  out  of  the  way  by  mere  power? — or 
whether,  should  it  advance  as  far  as  we  have  supposed,  and  triumph  alike 
over  the  Grave  and  Death — Sin  and  the  Law  would  not  resolutely  con- 
front it,  and  stand  in  its  path,  like  the  armed  cherubim,  bearing  and 
flashing  the  flaming  sword  that  guards  the  way  to  the  tree  of  life  ?  Ad- 
vancing, then,  to  the  third  of  the  four  adversaries,  we  ask.  Could  God  by 
power  destroy  Sin  ?  Could  he,  by  a  physical  act,  annihilate  it  f  Could 
he,  which  is  substantially  the  same  thing,  by  pure  j-yrerogative  pass  it  by 
— treating  it  with  indifierence,  and  showing  that  by  him  it  was  "  nothing 


LIFE    AND    IMMORTALITY    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.        5SS 

accounted  of?"  Could  he  make  a  seraph  out  of  a  Tiberius  or  a  Borgia, 
each  retaining  his  memory  and  consciousness,  as  he  can  make  an  ang-el 
or  an  arcliangel  out  of  nothing  ?  Now,  we  mean  to  say,  without  going 
at  jiresent  into  the  proof  of  the  assertion,  that  the  Bible  teaches  that  the 
same  stroke  by  which  God,  if  it  were  possible,  should  by  mere  power, 
destroy  Sin,  would  be  a  stroke  that  would  fall  equally  on  the  Law.  The 
third  and  fourth  of  the  adversaries  are  so  inseparably  united,  that  they 
must  be  treated  on  the  same  terms,  and  met  with  the  same  weapons,  as 
they  must  stand  or  ftxU  together.  But  the  Law  is  the  mirror  of  God,  the 
emanation  of  his  perfections,  the  element  of  order  to  all  worlds.  To 
destroy  tho.t  by  a  stroke,  would  be  to  annihilate  the  rule  and  standard  of 
obedience,  would  be  an  injury,  so  to  speak,  to  God's  own  nature,  and  an 
injustice  to  the  virtuous  universe. 

God  has  the  physical  power  to  do  many  things  which  yet  we  say  he 
CMU  not  do  ;  that  is,  he  has  the  physical  power  to  do  wrong ;  for  right 
and  wrong  are  not  things  that  he  can  make  for  himself  or  unmake,  but 
have  an  existence  distinct  from  his  will,  except  as  that  will  is  the  expres- 
sion of  his  own  eternal  and  necessary  rightness.  He  could  throw  the 
whole  material  universe  into  confusion  ;  could  suspend  the  laws  of  all 
planetary  harmony,  and  dash  suns  and  worlds  against  each  other,  as  if 
all  the  stars  were  drunk  or  mad.  But  it  would  not  become  him  to  do 
this.  It  would  not  be  fitting  in  him.  It  would  not  exalt  his  character 
in  the  view  of  created  intelligence,  or  be  in  consistency  with  what  he 
owed  to  himself  Therefore,  we  say,  he  could  not  do  this;  he  could  not 
throw  the  material  universe  into  disorder.  But  much  less  can  we  con- 
ceive it  possible  that  he  should  throw  the  moral  universe  into  disorder ! 
and  he  would  do  this,  if,  by  physical  omnipotence,  he  destroyed  sin,  be- 
caiise,  this  would  amount  to  the  virtual  or  actual  destruction  of  the  law 
— moral  law.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  after  all  that  power  is  capable 
of  eftecting  to  secure  our  immortality — an  immortality  of  virtue  as  well 
as  life — two  of  our  adversaries  out  of  the  four  remain  untouched,  and 
inccqxible  of  being  touched,  by  such  weapons  as  it  wields.  The  grave 
and  death  may  both,  in  some  sort,  be  discomfited  by  force,  but  sin  and 
the  law  can  not  be  reached  by  it;  they  still  live;  and,  to  secure  our 
deliverance  in  a  way  at  once  suited  to  our  natue  and  honorable  to  God, 
they  must,  as  moral  opponents,  be  met  and  overcome  by  a  moral  pro- 
cess. 

That  process  is  the  redemptive  work  of  the  Son  of  God — his  propiti- 
atory sacrifice  and  mighty  mediation  ;  it  is  not  merely  the  repentance 
of  the  sinner  and  his  return  to  virtue,  together  with  the  divine  pity  and 
love.  All  that  can  be  conceived  of  as  alike  passing  in  the  experience  of 
the  human,  or  in  the  depths  of  the  divine,  paternal  mind,  is  recognized 
by  the  gospel — but  the  gospel  itself  is  something  more  ;  it  is  something 
additional  to  the  feelings  respectively  of  both  God  and  man,  and  con- 
sists in  the  facts  accomplished  iu  Christ — emphatically  the  cross  on  which 


590  THOMAS    BINNET. 

he  died,  where,  meeting  together,  men  and  God  can  be  reconciled  or 
cct-oned.  By  means  of  this  (the  sacrifice  of  the  cross),  a  foundation  is 
laid  for  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  in  those  who  trust  in  it  and  plead  it  Avith 
God,  on  a  reason  which,  however,  in  most  respects,  inexplicable  to  us,  is 
admitted  by  the  law  to  be  appropriate  and  sufficient ;  it  approves  and 
accepts  it,  as  at  once  preserving  its  honor,  establishing  its  claims,  and 
aiding  its  rule,  at  the  very  time  that  it  provides  escape  from  its  pen- 
alties. The  law,  therefore,  consents  to  the  delivery  of  the  sinner  from 
the  i^ower  and  consequences  of  sin — by  which,  of  course,  sin  is,  to  all 
intents  and  purposes,  destroyed  ;  but  this  being  done  by  what,  so  to 
speak,  has  conciliated  the  law,  not  destroyed  it — for  law  must  remain 
vmtouched,  and  be  itself  immortal — the  law  is  changed  from  an  adver- 
sary to  a  friend ;  its  opposition  is  not  only  taken  away,  but  that  which 
it  opposed  while  sin  was  alike,  it  can  now  itself  forward  and  facilitate. 

By  a  moral  process,  sin  and  the  law,  our  moral  adversaries,  are  thus 
overthrown — the  one  conquered,  the  other  conciliated — through  that 
great  redeeming  act,  which  emphatically  constitutes  "  the  glorious  gos- 
pel of  the  blessed  God."  The  penitent  at  first  may  mournfully  say, 
"  The  sting  of  death  is  sin — the  strength  of  sin  is  the  law."  "  O, 
wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  double  destruc- 
tion ?"  but,  becomii]g  a  believer  as  well  as  a  penitent,  and  awaking  up  to 
the  apprehension  of  the  gospel  and  the  hope  it  inspires,  his  tone  changes 
from  mourning  to  music,  from  despair  to  exultation,  as  he  bursts  forth, 
"  O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ?  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ?  Thanks 
be  unto  God  that  giveth  me  the  victory — through  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ:''  True,  "  the  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and  the  strength  of  sin  is 
the  Law,"  but  Christ,  by  his  atonement,  takes  away  for  every  penitent 
that  beUeveth  on  him,  the  sting  from  death  and  the  strength  from  sin, 
by  procuring  for  him  pardon,  in  harmony  icith  the  principles  of  that 
LAW,  which  is  itself  the  strength  of  the  one,  and  which  causes  it  to  be- 
come the  sting  of  the  other. 

The  two  moral  adversaries  of  man  being  thus  disarmed,  by  being 
respectively  destroyed  or  transformed  by  moral  means ;  the  other  two, 
which  are  in  their  nature  physical,  and  which,  as  we  have  seen,  can  be 
discomfited  by  force,  may  now  be  contemplated  as  destined  to  destruc- 
tion by  there  ultimately  being  brought  to  act  upon  them  that  sort  of 
agency  which  is  of  a  nature  with  themselves.  He  who  redeems  the  soul 
from  sin,  is  able  to  redeem  the  body  from  the  grave  ;  he  wlio  satisfies 
and  propitiates  the  law,  is  able  to  deliver  from  the  grasp  of  death.  He 
is  able  to  accomplish  these  latter  results — these  confessedly  lower  and 
secondary  achievements — "by  the  operation  of  that  mighty  power,  by 
which  he  can  subdue  all  things  unto  himself"  Our  physical  degradation 
shall  be  removed  by  the  force  of  a  physical  omnipotence  ;  that  is  suffi- 
cient to  overcome  at  once,  by  a  single  act,  the  grave  and  death,  by 
transforming  the  living  and  reanimating  the  dead,  "  changing  our  vile 


LIFE    AND    IMMORTALITY    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.        591 

body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  his  own  glorious  body."  He 
"  bought  us  with  a  price,"  that  he  might  make  us  in  all  things  like  unto 
himself;  lifting  us  to  his  throne,  investing  us  with  his  glory,  admitting 
us  to  blessedness,  completing  and  perfecting  our  entire  natflre,  by  con- 
ferring life,  immortality,  and  incorruption !  "  Behold  !  now  are  we  the 
sons  of  God  ;  but  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  ;  but  we 
know  that  Avhen  he  shall  appear  we  shall  be  like  him,  for  we  shall  see  him 
as  he  is."  "  The  Lord  himself  shall  descend  from  heaven  with  a  shout, 
with  the  voice  of  the  archangel,  and  with  the  trump  of  God  ;  and  the 
dead  in  Christ  shall  rise  first.  Tlien,  we  which  are  alive  and  remain  shall 
be  caught  up  together  with  them  in  the  clouds  to  meet  the  Lord  in  the 
air ;  and  so  shall  we  ever  be  with  the  Lokd." 

It  is  now  easy  to  see,  as  the  result  of  this  discussion,  in  what  senses, 
or  to  what  extent,  death  may  be  regarded  as  "  abolished"  by  Christ. 
The  statement,  of  course,  does  not  mean,  that  no  one  dies.  "We  have  too 
much  proof  of  the  contrary,  in  the  every-day  occurrences  of  life — an 
affecting  demonstration  of  the  power  and  presence  of  death  among  us, 
in  the  comparatively  sudden  event  that  gives  it  special  character  to  this 
sei-vice,  and  that  has  clothed  in  mourning  this  assembly.  ISTor  does  it 
mean,  that  none  of  the  race  Avill  ultimately  perish — that  no  man  will  die 
eternally.  The  Scrijrture  affords  no  hope  of  this.  The  enjoyment  of  the 
life  that  has  been  revealed,  is  suspended  on  the  reception  of  the  gospel 
that  secures  it ;  on  "  repentance  toward  God,  and  fiiith  in  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ;"  on  states  of  mind,  spiritual  relationships,  and  a  spiritual  charac- 
ter, which  must  be  experienced,  sustained,  and  possessed  here,  or,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  of  redemption,  and  in  perfect  consistency  with  the  per- 
sonal affections  and  will  of  the  Redeemer,  "there  remaineth  nothing  but 
a  fearful  looking-for  of  judgment,  and  of  fiery  indignation  that  shall 
devour  the  adversaries."  Nor,  finally,  does  it  mean,  that  death  is  so  de- 
stroyed in  relation  to  those  who  are  truly  and  spiritually  the  Lord's,  that, 
while  the  unbelieving,  the  wicked,  and  the  false  die,  the  holy  and  true, 
sincere  and  faithful,  are  visibly  translated,  and  passed  to  their  glorious 
rest  without  going  through  the  grave  at  all !  This  might  have  been  ; 
but  it  is  better  as  it  is.  It  would  be  a  terrible  thing,  if  the  manner  in 
which  life  terminated,  manifestly,  in  every  case,  revealed  the  individual ; 
if  the  real  character  and  future  destiny  of  every  person  were  made 
known,  by  the  fact  of  his  body  "seeing  corruption,"  or  his  passing  away 
in  glory  to  the  sky !  To  feel  certainty  respecting  the  state  of  the  de- 
parted is  sometimes  desirable ;  but  it  would  be  a  fearful  price  to  pay  for 
this,  to  have  that  certainty  in  relation  to  all.  It  is  well  that  gloom  and 
doubt  should  sometimes  hang  over  the  sepulchcrs  of  the  good,  because 
hence,  hope,  also,  is  possible  in  relation  to  others.  In  spite  of  the  state- 
ment of  the  text,  then,  death  yet  reigns.  All  die.  The  wise,  the  good, 
"likewise  the  fool  and  the  brutish  person  perish;"  and,  sometimes,  the 
best  are  overcome  with  fear,  and  the  bad  have  "  no  bands  in  their  death." 


592  THOMAS    BINNET. 

All  is  so  arranged  that  we  may  "  judge  nothing  before  the  time,  until 
the  Lord  come,  who  shall  bring  to  light  the  hidden  things  of  darkness, 
and  make  manifest  the  intentions  of  the  heart,"  "Then  shall  every- 
one have  jti-aise  of  God" — or  blame ;  then  shall  all  men  be  seen  to  be 
what  they  are,  and  each  receive  "according  to  what  he  hath  done, 
whether  it  be  good  or  bad." 

In  none  of  these  senses,  then,  is  death  "  abolished."  But,  in  respect, 
to  believers — renewed,  holy.  Christlike  men — for  it  is  only  of  such  we 
can  be  supposed  to  speak,  it  may  be  said  to  be  "  abolished,"  in  the  first 
place,  in  that  the  hope  of  pardoning  mercy,  in  proportion  as  it  is  felt, 
alters,  so  to  speak,  their  relations  to  it — certainly,  their  apprehensions 
concerning  it.  Death  is  only  an  outward  symptom  of  an  inAvard  spirit- 
ual decease;  it  is  the  mark  and  sign  of  sinfulness;  and  it  is  terrible  to 
man  just  in  proportion  as  sin  is  felt  on  the  conscience,  and  feared  in  its 
results.  Philosophy,  like  an  empiric,  looks  only  at  the  symptom,  and 
attacks  it  only,  and  can  do  no  more  ;  inculcating  stoicism,  indiiference, 
submission  to  inevitable  necessity,  or  some  such  miserable  pretenses  or 
palliatives  in  the  prospect  of  death ;  the  gospel,  like  the  well-instructed 
physician,  attacks  the  disease,  penetrates  to  the  very  seat  and  core  of  the 
disorder,  brings  pardon  to  the  sinner,  peace  to  the  conscience,  haalth  to 
the  soul !  and  then,  these  things  being  experienced  by  the  inward  man, 
the  power  of  death  to  excite  apprehension,  or  embitter  life,  or  bring  into 
"  bondage,"  ceases  by  way  of  natural  consequence. 

In  the  second  place,  death  is  "abolished,"  because,  as  a  general  rule. 
Christians  may  not  be  said  to  die :  they  '•'•fall  asleep'''  at  their  last  hour, 
and  are  not  suffered  to  feel  the  "  sting"  that  makes  dying  agony.  They 
can  not  feel  it,  since  for  them  it  is  not.  It  has  been  extracted  by  him 
who,  because  "  sin  was  in  the  world,"  and  "  death  by  sin,"  "  came  into 
the  world"  "  to  jput  axcay  sin^  by  the  sacrifice  of  himself"  The  "justi- 
fied by  faith  have  peace  with  God,  and  rejoice  in  hope."  "The  right- 
eous hath  hope  in  his  death."  There  are  occasional  exceptions:  some  by 
reason  of  })hysical  causes,  some  from  weakness  of  faith,  some  from  con- 
scious defect,  may,  more  or  less,  and  more  or  less  justly,  be  disturbed 
and  agitated  as  they  near  the  grave ;  but,  generally,  and  almost  always 
in  proportion  to  practical  consistency,  the  followers  of  Christ  welcome 
their  departure  with  assured  hope  and  tranquil  trust. 

In  the  last  place,  death  is  "abolished,"  because,  in  respect  to  the 
saved,  "  he"  (to  adopt  again  the  apostolic  personification),  is  reduced  to 
seiwitude,  placed  under  authority,  and  kept  for  execution.  He  is  no 
longer  a  king — the  "  king  of  terrors."  His  dominion  is  destroyed,  his 
royalty  tarnished,  his  power  overthrown,  and  he  himself  condemned  to 
serfdom  and  sacrifice.  Christ  is  the  Master  and  Lord  of  death  ;  he  com- 
mits to  his  custody  the  bodies  of  his  saints.  As  the  shepherd  keepeth 
watch  over  his  flock  by  night,  so  is  the  "  last  enemy"  compelled  to  watch 
over  the  dust  of  the  holy  dead ;  so  is  he  stationed  and  commanded  to 


LIFE    AND    IMMORTALITY    BROUGHT    TO    LIGHT.     593 

serve,  that  they  may  be  safe  and  undisturbed  during  tlieir  season  of  rest 
and  be  raised  again  when  the  morning  dawns !  When  tliat  morning 
Cometh,  death,  having  deUvered  up  his  trust,  shall  himself  die ;  or, 
rather,  he  shall  be  destroyed  and  perish.  Life  will  be  conferred  in  every 
sense,  in  which  it  will  be  possible.  The  gospel  reveals  not  merely  the 
immortality  of  the  spirit ;  but  the  immortality  of /mmawt^y.  Our  whole 
nature,  "body,  soul,  and  spirit,"  shall  be  purified  and  perfected,  and 
endoM'ed  with  endless  and  incorruptible  life !  "  This  corruptible  must 
put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  must  put  on  immortality ;  when 
this  corruptible  has  put  on  incorruption,  and  this  mortal  has  put  on  immor- 
tality, the7i  shall  be  brought  to  pass  the  saying  that  is  written,  '  death  is 
SWALLOWED  UP  IN  VICTORY.'  "  "  So  let  all  thine  enemies  perish,"  O 
Christ !  "  and  let  them  that  love  thee  be  as  the  sun  when  he  goeth  forth 
in  his  might !'"'  They  sJiall  he  this ;  for  they  shall  be  "  sons  of  light," 
being  "children  of  the  resurrection,"  and  "shall  shine  as  the  stars,  and 
as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament,  forever  and  ever!"  As  a  wreck 
may  sink  in  the  sea,  and  the  ocean  close  over  it,  so  that  not  a  vestige  of 
its  existence  shall  remain,  nor  a  ripple  on  the  surface  tell  that  it  loas,  so 
shall  "  mortality  be  swalloiced  up  of  life" — immortal  life — life,  sinless, 
godlike,  divine  !  Nor  shall  there  be  wanting  the  voice  of  rejoicing,  as 
heard  at  the  termination  of  successful  war,  for  "  death  shall  be  swallowed 
up  IN  viCTOiiY."  His  former  victims  shall  be  "  more  than  conquerors," 
"  through  him  that  lovetli  them,"  and  "  giveth  them  the  victory."  The 
"  abolition"  of  the  destroyer  shall  be  hailed  by  the  plaudits  of  a  glad 
imiverse,  that  shall  throng  to  crown  and  to  congratulate  the  saved. 
They  shall  be  met  with  hosannas  by  those  angelic  spectators,  w^ho  now 
watch  the  contest,  and  anticipate  the  issue.  They  shall  thus  enter  upon 
their  new  life  with  the  feelings  of  combatants  that  have  w^orsted  their 
antagonist,  and  proceed  to  the  possession  of  their  everlastmg  inheritance, 
amid  the  welcome  of  those  who  shall  hail  their  success  with  sympathetic 
delight,  heralding  them  to  their  home  with  joy  and  acclamation,  shout- 
ing and  songs ! 

38 


DISCOURSE    XLII. 

WILLIAM     ARTHUR,  D.D. 

Less  than  two  years  ago  our  attention  was  attracted  to  an  article  in  a  daily  paper, 
which  ran  thus : 

"  Mr.  Arthur  is  no  doubt  very  favorably  known  to  many  of  our  readers  as  the 
author  of  '  The  Successful  Merchant'  To  some  he  may  also  be  known  as  the  elo- 
quent preacher.  To  all  we  think  we  may  promise  pleasure  of  a  high  character,  in 
listening  to  his  efforts  in  the  pulpit  and  on  the  platform."  Curiosity  was  excited  to 
see  and  hear  this  "  eloquent  preacher" — a  curiosity  which  was  afterward  gratified. 
Mr.  Arthur — now  Doctor — has  since  come  among  us,  and  taken  liis  departure. 
With  multitudes  the  recollection  of  his  visit  lingers  as  a  sweet  remembrance.  To 
some  of  such,  and  to  others  whose  interest  has  been  awakened  by  his  presence  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  the  following  facts  may  not  be  unacceptable. 

Dr.  Arthur  was  born  in  the  County  of  Antrim,  Ireland,  in  the  year  1819.  At  an 
(■^arly  age  he  was  converted  to  God,  and  joined  the  Methodist  society  in  the  town 
( 'f  Westport,  situated  on  the  shores  of  Clew  Bay,  which,  if  not  one  of  the  most 
beautiful,  is  at  least  one  of  the  most  magnificent  bays  in  the  world.  He  received 
his  literary  training  in  a  classical  school  in  Mayo,  and  at  the  early  age  of  eighteen 
was  sent  to  the  Wesleyan  Theological  Institute  at  London.  After  finishing  his 
theological  course,  he  was  sent  out  by  the  British  Conference  as  a  missionary  to  the 
Mysore  country,  in  India.  On  the  voyage  he  mastered  the  grammar  of  the  Cana- 
rese  language,  the  dialect  of  the  people  to  whom  he  was  going  to  preach ;  and  was 
enabled,  at  the  expiration  of  three  months  after  he  reached  the  station,  to  preach  to 
the  natives  in  their  own  tongue. 

While  engaged  in  his  missionary  labors,  so  intense  was  his  application,  that  his 
eye-sight  failed  him,  and  for  four  years  he  was  entirely  unable  to  read,  and  for  three 
more,  only  occasionally.  After  his  return  to  England  he  published  his  first  work, 
entitled  "  Mission  to  Mysore"  an  octavo  volume  of  upward  of  five  hundred  pages, 
which  has  been  regarded  as  a  valuable  contribution  to  the  cause  of  Christian  mis- 
sions. Subsequently,  as  his  sight  was  restored,  he  was  stationed  from  time  to  time 
on  different  London  circuits,  and  afterward  at  Paris  and  Boulogne,  in  France.  Dur- 
ing his  appointment  in  Paris,  the  Eevolution  of  1848  began,  and  he  remained  at  his 
I)0St,  lOce  a  faithful  sentinel,  all  through'  that  excitement.  After  his  term  of  service 
expired  in  Paris,  he  returned  to  England,  and  in  the  course  of  a  year  or  two  was 
appointed  one  of  the  general  secretaries  of  the  Mission  House  in  London. 

At  the  time  that  a  movement  originated  among  the  Methodists  of  Ireland  in  re- 
gard to  the  destitution  of  that  country,  produced  by  emigration  and  other  causes, 
and  it  was  resolved  that  something  should  be  done  by  way  of  raising  funds  for  the 


THE     GIFT     OF    POWER.  595 

purpose  of  enabling  the  Conference  to  establish  missions  and  schools,  and  to  send 
out  Bible-readers  throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  Dr.  Arthur  was 
wisely  selected,  with  Rev.  Mr.  Scott,  to  visit  this  country  to  aid  the  undertak- 
ing. The  invitation  was  accepted,  and  the  following  autumn  they  landed  on  our 
shores.  The  mission  was  highly  successful ;  and  while  here  Dr.  Arthur  received  the 
kindest  attention,  not  only  from  his  own,  but  from  other  denominations.  Since  his 
return  to  England,  he  has  been  acting  as  one  of  the  secretaries  of  the  Wesleyan 
Missionary  Society. 

Besides  "  The  Successful  Merchant" — a  very  interesting  and  instructive  biography 
of  Mr.  Budget — Dr.  Arthur  has  published  a  book,  entitled  "  The  Observance  of  the 
Sabbath,"  addressed  to  Lord  Stanley,  and  containing  animadversions  on  his  speech. 
The  work  has  already  passed  through  many  editions.  Through  the  influence  of 
friends  it  was  sent  to  every  member  of  Parliament,  and  to  all  the  ministers  of  the 
kingdom  of  Scotland.  An  article  from  the  pen  of  Mr.  Arthur  appeared  in  the 
"London  Quarterly,"  which  was  for  a  time  attributed  to  Mr.  Rnskin,  the  learned 
author  of  a  work  on  architecture  and  other  subjects.  From  the  beginning  he  has 
been  identified  with  '•  The  London  Young  Men's  Christian  Association,"  as  one  of 
its  presidents,  and,  until  his  health  failed,  has  been  one  of  its  regular  lecturers.  A 
popular  little  book  called  "  Arthur  in  America,"  has  been  pubhshed  in  this  country, 
containing  a  biography,  and  several  lectures,  addresses,  etc.  "  The  Tongue  of  Fire" 
is  also  another  very  valuable  publication  of  Dr.  Arthur.  It  treats  of  the  true  power 
of  Christianity,  and  with  very  marked  ability. 

Dr.  Artnur  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  and  popular  preachers  of  the  day.  His 
preaching  happily  combines  logic,  and  rhetoric,  and  unction.  In  personal  appear- 
ance he  is  rather  under  size,  with  a  broad  forehead,  thinly  over-topped,  with  hair, 
a  small  keen  eye,  and  benignant  look.  His  manner  in  the  pulpit  is  highly  animated, 
but  his  whole  style  and  bearing  are  eminently  chaste,  dignified,  and  attractive. 

We  received  from  Dr.  Arthur,  while  here,  encouragement  to  expect  a  discourse 
expressly  for  this  work.  As  it  has  failed  to  reach  us,  probably  owing  to  ill  health, 
we  take  a  part  of  the  conclusion  of  his  "  Tongue  of  Fire,"  which,  with  a  very  shght 
change  in  its  form,  answers  to  a  set  discourse.  We  have  seen  nothing  from  his 
pen  that  does  him  better  justice ;  and  its  weighty  suggestions  and  "  words  that 
burn,"  are  eminently  befitting  the  days  in  which  we  live. 


THE   GIFT    OF  POWER, 


"  But  tarry  yc  in  the  city  of  Jcrusalom,  until  ye  be  endued  with  power  from  on  high." — 
Luke,  xxiv.  49. 

I>r  the  application  of  any  instrument,  no  error  can  be  more  fatal  than 
one  that  affects  the  source  of  power.  To  recur  to  a  familiar  illustration, 
iny  reasoning  upon  explosive  weapons  which  assumed  elasticity  to  be  the 
source  of  power,  must  lead  completely  astray.  If  this  is  to  be  noted  in 
all  things,  it  is  especially  to  be  noted  in  what  affects  the  regeneration  of 
the  world.  In  merely  natural  processes,  persons  proposing  to  affect  the 
sentiments  of  mankird,  must  depend  largely  on  their  influence,  their 


596  WILLIAM    ARTHUR. 

■wealth,  and  their  facihties.  Christians  frequently  permit  themselves  to 
fall  into  a  state  of  mind  in  which  the  want  of  all  or  any  of  these  is  taken 
to  be  flxtal  to  their  prospects  of  success,  and  the  acquisition  of  them  to 
be  the  first  step  toward  making  any  impression.  But  wealth,  influence, 
and  facilities,  however  great,  never  yet  secured  results  in  the  spiritual 
conversion  of  men  ;  while  the  most  notable  triumphs  of  Christianity  have 
often  been  gained  in  the  total  absence  of  them  all. 

Others,  or  the  same  men  at  diflerent  times,  would  rather  allow  their 
hopes  to  rest  on  order,  talent,  or  truth.  But  neither  are  these  the  source 
of  power.  Order  is  as  necessary  in  Christianity  as  are  bones,  hgaments, 
and  skin  in  a  man ;  talent  is  as  necessary  as  brain,  and  truth  as  blood. 
But  you  may  have  all  these,  and  have  a  paralytic ;  ay,  have  them  all,  and 
have  but  a  corpse.  You  must  have  both  the  breathing  spirit  and  that 
indescribable  something  that  we  call  "  power."  Indeed,  the  order  of  the 
Christian  church  ought  to  be  such,  her  outward  framework  so  con- 
structed, that  she  shall  not  be  as  a  building,  which,  though  it  looks  more 
cheerful  when  there  is  life  within,  yet  will  stand  when  there  is  none  ; 
but  rather  as  a  body,  which  falls  the  moment  the  spirit  forsakes  it,  and 
tends  to  decomposition.  No  church  ought  to  be  otherwise  constructed, 
than  in  entire  dependence  on  the  presence  of  the  living  Spirit  in  all  her 
muiisterial  arrangements.  Her  frame  ought  to  answer  to  no  definition 
that  would  suit  an  inorganic  body ;  but  to  answer  exactly  to  the  cele- 
brated definition  of  an  organic  one  ,  namely,  "  that  wherein  every  part 
is  mutually  means  and  end."  The  pervading  presence  of  the  Spirit 
should  be  assumed,  so  that,  if  it  be  absent,  the  pams  of  death  shall  in- 
stantly take  hold  upon  her,  and  the  cry  be  extorted,  "  Lord,  save,  or  I 
perish !" 

I.  Here,  then,  first,  is  the  true  Source  of  Power. 

Kecall  to  mind  that  most  wonderful  silence  of  ten  days — that  long, 
long  pause  of  the  commissioned  church  in  sight  of  the  perishing  world. 
Never  should  the  solemnity  of  that  silence  pass  from  the  thoughts  of  any 
of  God's  peojile.  It  stands  in  the  very  fore-front  of  our  history — the 
Lord's  most  memorable  and  afiecting  protest  beforehand — that  no  au- 
thority inider  heaven,  that  no  training,  that  no  ordination  could  qualify 
men  to  propagate  the  gospel,  without  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
Each  successive  day  of  those  solemn  and  silent  ten,  the  perishing  world 
might  have  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  church,  and  asked,  "What  wait- 
est  thou  for,  O  bride  of  the  ascended  bridegroom  ?  Why  dost  thou  not 
say,  'Come?'  Why  leavest  thou  us  to  slumber  on  uncalled,  unwarned, 
unblessed,  whilst  thou,  with  thy  good  tidings,  art  tarrying  inactive  there  ? 
What  waitest  thou  for  ?"  and  every  moment  the  answer  would  have  been, 
"  We  are  waiting  to  be  '  endued  with  power  from  on  high  /'  we  are  wait- 
ing to  be  haptized  toith  the  Holy  Ghost  and  icith  fire?  " 

This  is  the  one  and  the  only  source  of  our  power.    Without  this,  oiu 


THE     GIFT     OF    POWER.  597 

wealth,  influence,  facilities,  are  ships  of  war  and  ammunition  without 
guns  or  men  ;  our  order,  talent,  truth,  are  men  and  guns,  without  fire. 
We  want  in  this  age,  above  all  wants,  fire,  God's  holy  fire,  burning  in 
the  hearts  of  men,  stirring  their  brains,  impelling  their  emotions,  thrill- 
ing in  their  tongues,  glowing  in  their  countenances,  vibrating  in  their 
actions,  expanding  their  intellectual  powers  more  than  can  ever  be  done 
by  the  heat  of  genius,  or  of  argument,  or  of  party ;  and  fusing  all  their 
knowledge,  logic,  and  rhetoric  into  a  burning  stream.  Every  accessory, 
every  instrument  of  usefulness,  the  church  has  now  in  such  a  degree  and 
of  such  excellence  as  was  never  known  in  any  other  age ;  and  we  want 
but  a  supreme  and  glorious  baptism  of  fire  to  exhibit  to  the  world  such 
a  spectacle  as  would  raise  ten  thovisand  hallelujahs  to  the  glory  of  our 
King. 

Let  biit  this  baptism  descend,  and  thousands  of  us  Avho,  up  to  this 
day,  have  been  but  common-place  or  weak  ministers,  sueh  as  might  easily 
pass  from  the  memory  of  mankind,  would  then  become  mighty.  Men 
would  wonder  at  us,  as  if  we  had  been  made  anew  ;  and  w^e  should 
wonder,  not  at  ourselves,  but  at  the  grace  of  God  which  could  thus 
transform  us. 

Suppose  we  saw  an  army  sitting  down  before  a  granite  fort,  and  they 
told  us  that  they  intended  to  batter  it  down :  we  might  ask  them, 
"  How  ?"  They  point  to  a  cannon-ball.  Well,  but  there  is  no  power  in 
that ;  it  is  heavy,  but  no  more  than  half  a  hundred,  or  perhaps  a  hun- 
dred, weight :  if  all  the  men  in  the  army  hurled  it  against  the  fort,  they 
would  make  no  impression.  They  say,  "  No  ;  but  look  at  the  cannon." 
Well,  there  is  no  power  in  that.  A  child  may  ride  upon  it,  a  bird  may 
perch  in  its  mouth  ;  it  is  a  machine,  and  nothing  more.  "  But  look  at 
the  powder."  Well,  there  is  no  power  in  that ;  a  child  may  spill  it,  a 
sparrow  may  peck  it.  Yet  this  powerless  powder,  and  powerless  ball, 
are  put  into  the  powerless  cannon — one  spark  of  fire  enters  it;  and  then, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  that  powder  is  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  that 
ball  a  thunderbolt,  which  smites  as  if  it  had  been  sent  from  heaven.  So 
is  it  with  our  church  machinery  at  this  day:  we  have  all  the  instruments 
necessary  for  pulling  down  strongholds,  and  O  for  the  baptism  of  fire! 

II.    As   TO   THE   WAY    IX   W^HICH   THIS    POWER    MAY    BE    OBTAINED,    here 

we  have  only  to  recall  the  lesson  of  the  Ten  Days — "  They  continued 
with  one  accord  in  prayer  and  supplication."  Prayer  earnest,  prayer 
united,  and  prayer  persevering,  these  are  the  conditions ;  and,  these 
being  fulfilled,  we  shall  assuredly  be  "  endued  with  power  from  on  liigh." 
We  should  never  expect  tliat  the  power  will  fall  upon  us  just  because  we 
happen  once  to  awake  and  ask  for  it.  Nor  have  any  community  of  Christ- 
ians a  right  to  look  for  a  great  manifestation  of  the  Spirit,  if  they  are 
not  all  ready  to  join  in  sujiplication,  and,  "  with  one  accord,"  to  wait  and 
pray  as  if  it  were  the  concern  of  each  one.     The  murmurer  who  always 


598  WILLIAM    ARTHUR. 

accounts  for  barrenness  in  the  church  by  the  faults  of  others,  may  be 
assured  that  his  readiest  way  to  spiritual  power,  if  that  be  his  real  object, 
lies  in  uniting  all,  as  one  heart,  to  pray  without  ceasing. 

Above  all,  we  are  not  to  expect  it  without  persevering  prayer.  Prayer 
which  takes  the  fact  that  past  prayers  have  not  yet  been  answered,  as  a 
reason  for  languor,  has  already  ceased  to  be  the  i>rayer  of  faith.  To  the 
latter,  the  fact  that  prayers  remain  unanswered,  is  only  evidence  that  the 
moment  of  the  answer  is  so  much  nearer.  From  first  to  last,  the  lessons 
and  example  of  our  Lord  all  tell  us  that  prayer  which  can  not  persevere, 
and  urge  its  plea  importunately,  and  renew,  and  renew  itself  again,  and 
gather  strength  from  every  past  petition,  is  not  the  prayer  that  will  pre- 
vail. 

When  John  in  the  Apocalypse  saw  the  Lamb  on  the  throne,  before 
that  throne  were  the  seven  lamps  of  fire  burning,  "  which  are  the  seven 
spirits  of  God  sent  forth  into  all  the  earth ;"  and  it  is  only  by  waiting 
before  that  throne  of  grace  that  we  become  imbued  with  the  holy  fire  ; 
but  he  who  w^aits  there  long  and  believingly  will  imbibe  that  fire,  and 
come  forth  from  his  communion  with  God,  bearing  tokens  of  where  he 
has  been.  For  the  individual  believer,  and,  above  all,  for  every  laborer 
in  the  Lord's  vineyard,  the  only  way  to  gain  spiritual  power  is  by  secret 
Avaiting  at  the  throne  of  God  for  the  baptism  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Every 
moment  spent  in  real  prayer  is  a  moment  spent  in  refreshing  the  fire  of 
God  within  the  soul.  We  said  before,  that  this  fire  can  not  be  simu- 
lated ;  nothing  else  will  produce  its  efiects.  No  more  can  the  means  of 
obtaining  it  be  feigned.  Nothing  but  the  Lord's  own  appointed  means, 
nothing  but  "  waiting  at  the  throne,"  nothing  but  keeping  the  heart 
under  "  the  eyes  of  the  Lamb,"  to  be  again,  and  again,  and  again  jjene- 
trated  by  his  Spirit,  can  put  the  soul  into  that  condition  in  which  it  is  a 
meet  instrument  to  impart  the  light  and  power  of  God  to  other  men. 

When  a  lecturer  on  electricity  wants  to  show  an  example  of  a  human 
body  surcharged  with  his  fire,  he  places  a  person  on  a  stool  with  glass 
legs.  The  glass  serves  to  isolate  him  from  the  earth,  because  it  will  not 
conduct  the  fire — the  electric  fluid :  were  it  not  for  this,  however  much 
might  be  poured  into  his  frame,  it  would  be  carried  away  by  the  earth ; 
but  when  thus  isolated  from  it,  he  retains  all  that  enters  him.  You  see 
no  fire,  you  hear  no  fire ;  but  you  are  told  that  it  is  pouring  into  him. 
Presently  you  are  challenged  to  the  proof — asked  to  come  near,  and  hold 
your  hand  close  to  his  person  ;  when  you  do  so,  a  spark  of  fire  shoots 
out  toward  you.  If  thou,  then,  wouldst  have  thy  soul  surcharged  with 
the  fire  of  God,  so  that  those  who  come  nigh  to  thee  shall  feel  some  mys- 
terious influence  proceeding  out  from  thee,  thou  must  draw  nigh  to  the 
source  of  that  fire,  to  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb,  and  shut  thy- 
self out  from  the  world — that  cold  world,  which  so  quickly  steals  our 
fire  away.  Enter  into  thy  closet  and  shut  to  thy  door,  and  there,  iso- 
lated, "  before  the  throne,"  awa't  the  baptism ;  then  the  fire  shall  fill 


THE     GIFT     OF    POWER.  599 

thee,  and  when  thou  comest  forth,  holy  power  will  attend  thee,  and  thou 
shalt  labor,  not  in  thine  own  strength,  but  "  with  demonstration  of  the 
Spirit,  and  with  power," 

iVs  this  is  the  only  Avay  for  an  individual  to  obtain  spiritual  power,  so 
is  it  the  only  way  for  churches.  Prayer,  prayer,  all  prayer — mighty, 
importunate,  repeated,  united  prayer ;  the  rich  and  the  poor,  the  learned 
and  the  unlearned,  the  fathers  and  the  children,  the  pastors  and  the 
people,  the  gifted  and  the  simple,  all  uniting  to  cry  to  God  above,  that 
he  would  come  and  affect  them  as  in  the  days  of  the  right  hand  of  the 
Most  High,  and  imbue  them  with  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  and  warm  them, 
and  kindle  them,  and  make  them  as  a  flame  of  fire,  and  lay  his  right 
hand  mightily  on  the  siimers  that  surround  them,  and  turn  them  in  truth 
to  him.  Such  united  and  repeated  supplications  will  assuredly  accom- 
plish their  end,  and  "  the  power  of  God"  descending,  will  make  every 
such  company  as  a  band  of  giants  refreshed  with  new  wine. 

If  the  source  of  our  power,  and  the  way  to  obtain  it,  be  so  plain,  how 
can  it  be  that  the  "  tongue  of  fire"  is  so  rare  ?  Is  it  because,  as  many 
would  seem  to  think,  nothing  is  so  difiicult  to  obtain  as  the  grace  of  the 
Holy  Spirit  ?  We  often  hear  it  said,  "  All  effort  must  be  unsuccessful 
without  the  blessing  of  God — without  the  accompanying  power  of  the 
Spirit ;"  and  the  tone  used  indicates  that  it  is  therefore  proj^er  not  to 
look  for  any  great  results,  as  if  the  accompanying  power  of  the  Spirit  was 
the  only  thing  not  to  be  counted  upon.  The  recognition  of  our  impo- 
tency  without  the  Spirit,  and  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  his  presence 
and  his  power,  is  as  needful  as  the  recognition  of  the  fact  that,  without 
sunshine  and  rain,  all  labor  and  all  skill  would  fail  to  preserve  the  human 
race  for  one  season.  But  the  sunshine  and  the  rain  are  precisely  the 
things  which  cost  nothing,  and  on  which  we  may  constantly  depend.  So 
it  is  with  the  baptism  and  the  power  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Freer  than  the 
air  we  breathe,  freer  than  the  rich  sunbeams,  freer  than  any  of  God's 
other  gifts,  because  it  is  the  one  which  has  cost  him  most,  and  which 
blesses  his  children  most,  that  gift  is  ever  at  hand;  and  when  Ave  have 
done  what  the  Lord  lays  upon  us  to  do,  it  is  dishonoring  to  him  to  cher- 
ish a  secret  feeling  as  if  he,  being  good,  not  evil,  was  backward  to  pour 
out  his  Spirit,  and  to  do  good  to  his  children. 

This  feeling  of  unbelief,  wherever  cherished,  must,  on  the  prhiciples  of 
the  gospi'I,  be  fatal  to  all  power.  He  alone  who  magnifies  the  freeness, 
the  fullness,  and  the  present  efficacy  of  the  Lord's  grace,  can  by  the 
Holy  Ghost  accomplish  wonders.  Trust,  firm  trust,  straightforward, 
childlike  trust,  is  the  everlasting  condition  of  all  co-operation  with  God. 
He  will  not  use,  he  will  not  bless,  he  will  not  inhabit  the  heart  that,  at 
the  moment  when  it  offers  him  a  request,  says,  "  I  doubt  thee." 

In  this  age  of  faith  in  the  natural,  and  disinclination  to  the  supernatu- 
ral, we  want  especially  to  meet  the  whole  world  with  this  credo :  "  I 
believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost."     I  expect  to  see  saints  as  lovely  as  any  that 


600  WILLIAM    ARTHUR. 

are  -oTitten  of  in  the  Scriptures — because  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 
I  expect  to  see  preachers  as  powerful  to  set  forth  Christ  evidently  cruci- 
fied before  the  eyes  of  men,  as  powerful  to  pierce  the  conscience,  to  per- 
suade, to  convince,  to  convert,  as  any  that  ever  shook  the  multitudes  of 
Jerusalem,  or  Corinth,  or  Rome — ^because  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 
I  expect  to  see  churches,  the  members  of  which  shall  be  severally  endued 
Avith  spiritual  gifts,  and  every  one  moving  in  spiritual  activity,  animating 
and  edifying  one  another,  commending  themselves  to  the  conscience  of 
the  world  by  their  good  works,  commending  their  Saviour  to  it  by  a 
heart-engaging  testimony — because  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  I 
expect  to  see  villages  Avhere  the  respectable  people  are  now  opposed  to 
religion,  the  proprietor  ungodly,  the  nominal  pastor  worldly,  all  that 
take  a  lead  set  against  Hving  Christianity — to  see  such  villages  sum- 
moned, disturbed,  divided,  and  then  re-united  by  the  subduing  of  the 
whole  population  to  Christ — because  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  ex- 
pect to  see  cities  swept  from  end  to  end,  their  manners  elevated,  their 
commerce  purified,  their  politics  Christianized,  their  criminal  population 
reformed,  their  poor  made  to  feel  that  they  dwell  among  brethren — 
righteousness  in  the  streets,  peace  in  the  homes,  an  altar  at  every  fire- 
eide — because  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  I  expect  the  world  to  be 
overflow<::d  with  the  knowledge  of  God  ;  the  day  to  come  when  no  man 
shall  need  to  say  to  his  neighbor,  "  Know  thou  the  Lord ;"  but  when  all 
shall  know  him,  "from  the  least  unto  the  greatest;"  east  and  west, 
north  and  south,  uniting  to  praise  tlie  name  of  the  one  God,  and  the  one 
Mediator — because  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Unbelief  and  neglect  of  prayer  generally  go  together  as  preventives 
of  spiritual  power.  Let  all  of  us  who  are  painfully  conscious  that  the 
results  just  indicated  will  never  be  attained  through  the  instrumentality 
of  men,  in  the  condition  in  which  we  are,  simply  ask  ourselves,  "  How 
long,  how  often,  how  importunately  have  we  waited  at  the  throne  of  the 
Saviour  for  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  ?"  Let  our  closets  answer. 
"  The  eyes  of  the  Lamb,"  that  are  looking  through  us  now,  have  noted. 
O !  is  it  any  wonder  that  ofttimes  we  have  been  powerless,  and  ofttimes 
have  had  but  "  a  little  strength  ?" 

Want  of  true  faith  and  neglect  of  prayer  are  sure  to  make  place  for 
faith  in  the  instrument,  instead  of  in  the  power.  When  we  are  not  liv- 
ing near  the  throne,  our  minds  become  occupied  with  questions  of  ordei*, 
of  talent,  or  of  truth ;  or,  if  we  sink  into  yet  a  lower  state,  with  ques- 
tions of  facility,  or  influence,  or  wealth.  This  church  reform  will  be 
followed  by  great  good  ;  the  clear  development  of  such  or  such  a  doc- 
trine would  bring  us  revival ;  more  luster  or  strength  of  talent  in  the 
ministry  would  insure  progress.  We  only  wait  the  removal  of  such  and 
such  hinderances  to  open  this  door  ;  for  the  supply  of  pecuniary  means, 
and  we  shall  see  good  done  there ;  or  for  the  accession  to  the  church  of 
some  person  of  influence,  and  God's  work  will  prosper  yonder.  Faith  is 
Badly  wasted  when  bestowed  on  such  things.     Give  them  their  right 


THE     GIFT    OF     POWER.  601 

value — nevei*  unclerrate  them — place  them  where  God  has  placed  them ; 

but  the  fact  that  you  trust  in  them  shows  that  your  heart  is  wrong. 

Wait  not  for  these — for  the  power  is  not  in  them — but  for  the  baptism 

of  fire, 

******* 

III.     As    TO    THE     SCALE     OX    WHICH     OUR    EXPECTATIONS     SHOULD     BE 

FRAMED.  In  our  age  invention,  by  aid  of  natural  science,  often  seems  to 
leap  almost  within  the  bounds  of  the  supernatural.  The  impossibilities 
of  our  fathers  are  disappearing,  one  becoming  a  traflic  and  another  a 
pastime.  This  has  produced  a  state  of  mind  in  which  nothing  seems 
impossible  to  natural  science.  Concurrently  with  this  has  arisen  a  tend- 
ency to  bring  spiritual  progress  and  action  within  natural  bounds.  We 
are  proud  of  our  knowledge  of  the  laws  Of  the  natural  kingdom,  and 
impatient  of  any  phenomena  which  can  not  be  judged  by  them.  Yet 
we  do  not  object  to  judging  the  vegetable  kingdom  by  laws  totally  dif- 
ferent from  those  which  we  apply  to  the  mineral,  and  the  animal  by  laws 
totally  different  from  Avhat  we  apply  to  the  vegetable,  and  the  i>er\'asive 
fluids  by  laws  different  from  those  we  apply  to  any  of  those  three  kingdoms. 
To  shrink  from  the  marvels  of  vegetable  Hfe  because  they  are  unaccount- 
able on  chemical  principles,  or  from  those  of  instinct  because  they  are  un- 
fathomable mysteries  on  botanical  principles,  or  from  those  of  intellect 
because  they  are  inexplicable  by  the  laws  of  natural  history,  oi*  from  the 
mysteries  of  light  because  they  can  not  be  metaphysically  analyzed  and 
conditioned,  would  not  be  more  unreasonable  than  to  shrink  from  mar- 
vels in  the  spiritual  kingdom,  because  they  can  not  be  judged  by  the 
laws  of  the  natural.  The  supernatural  has  its  own  laws,  and  tliere  is  a 
supernatural. 

Instead  of  seeking  to  keep  down  spiritual  movements  to  the  level  of 
natural  explanation,  in  an  age  when  natural  marvels  reach  almost  to  mir- 
acles, we  ought  rather  to  be  impelled  to  pray  that  they  may  put  on  a 
more  striking  cliaracter  of  supernatural  manifestation.  To-day  more  by 
far  is  necessary  to  carry  into  the  mind  ol  the  multitude  a  clear  conviction, 
"  It  is  the  hand  of  God,"  than  Avas  necessay  in  other  ages.  When  men 
saw  a  few  wonders  from  natural  science,  they  readily  ascribed  each  Avon- 
der  to  divine  agency ;  but  now  that  they  are  accustomed  to  see  them 
daily,  moral  wonders  must  savcII  beyond  all  pretext  of  natural  explana 
tion,  before  they  are  felt  to  be  from  God.  Is  our  footing  firm  ?  Do  avc 
stand,  or  dO  Ave  tremble  ?  Is  Christianity  to  seat  herself  in  the  circle  of 
natural  agency,  or  to  arise  from  the  dust,  and  prove  that  there  is  a  God 
in  Israel  ?  Are  avc  to  shrink  from  things  extraordinary?  Are  Ave  to  be 
afraid  of  any  thing  that  Avould  make  skeptical  or  prayerless  men  mock  ? 
Are  Ave  to  desire  that  the  Spirit  shall  use  us  and  Avork  in  us  just  to  such 
a  degree  as  Avill  never  bring  a  sneer  upon  us — to  pray,  as  a  continental 
Avriter  re])resents  some  as  wvc'a?',?^*/,  "  GIa^c  us  of  the  Holy  Si)int ;  but 
not  too  much  ;  lest  the  people  should  say  that  Ave  are  full  of  ncAV  Avine  ?"  * 
*  Pastour  Aucrustin  Bosfc. 


602  "WILLIAM     ARTHUR. 

Much  good  exists,  in  which  we  do  rejoice,  yea,  and  will  rejoioe ;  but 
O  !  the  evil,  the  evil  is  day  by  day,  breaking  thousands  of  hearts,  ruining 
thousands  of  characters,  and  destroying  thousands  of  souls  !  Looking 
abroad  beyond  the  one  little  sphere  of  Britain  and  America,  which  we 
proud  boasters  of  the  two  nations  are  prone  to  look  upon  as  being  nearly 
the  Avhole  world — though  we  are  not  one  twentieth  of  the  human  race — 
how  dreary  and.  how  lonely  does  the  soul  of  the  Christian  feel,  as  it  floats, 
in  imagination,  over  the  rest  of  the  earth  !  That  Europe,  so  learned,  so 
splendid,  so  brave — what  misery  is  by  its  fireside  !  What  stains  upon  its 
conscience  !  What  superstition,  stoicism,  or  despair  around  its  death' 
beds  !  And  yonder  bright  old  Asia,  where  the  "  tongue  of  fire"  first 
spoke — how  rare  and  how  few  are  the  scenes  of  moral  beauty  which  there 
meet  the  eye  !  Instead  of  the  family,  the  seraglio  ;  instead  of  religion, 
superstition ;  instead  of  peace,  oppression ;  instead  of  enterprise,  war  ; 
instead,  of  morals,  ceremonials ;  instead  of  a  God,  idols  ;  instead  of  re- 
finement and  growth,  corruption  and  collapse  :  here,  there,  thinly  so — 
and  scarcely  within  sight  one  of  the  other,  a  school,  a  book,  a  man  of 
God — one  star  in  a  sky  of  darkness.  And  poor  Africa  !  What  is  to  be- 
come of  the  present  generation  of  her  sons  ?  Thinly  around  her  coasts 
are  beginnings  of  good  things ;  but  O  !  the  blood,  and  darkness,  and  woe, 
the  base  superstition,  and  the  miserable  cruelties,  under  which  the  ma- 
jority of  her  youth  are  now  trained,  amid  which  her  old  men  are  going 
down  to  the  grave  ! 

All  this  existed  a  century  ago,  but  was  not  then  known  as  we  know  it 
now.  The  world  is  not  yet  explored  by  the  church,  much  less  occupied  ; 
but  the  exploration  at  least  is  carried  so  far,  that  we  know  its  plagues  as 
our  fathers  knew  them  not ;  and  if  our  hearts  were  rightly  aflected,  we 
Bhould  weep  over  them  as  they  never  Avept ;  for,  although  the  spread  of 
Christianity  has  greatly  multiplied  the  number  of  Christians,  the  increase 
of  population  has  been  such,  that  more  men  are  smning  and  suflering  now 
than  were  a  hundred  years  ago. 

Taking  the  forces  of  the  church,  comparing  them  with  the  length  and 
breadth  of  the  world,  and  then  asking,  "  Are  these  ever  to  be  the  means 
of  converting  all  ?"  we  feel  that  only  the  promise  of  God  could  inspire  such 
a  hope.  But  that  promise  is  so  confirmed,  illustrated,  and  exalted  by  the 
success  of  the  past  century,  that  when  we  look  back  to  the  few  faithful 
men  in  this  country  and  in  America,  men  in  different  circumstances  and 
of  different  views,  who  then  began  in  earnest  to  call  the  churches  to  their 
work,  and  see  how  far  their  labors  and  those  of  their  spiritual  sons  have 
advanced  the  kingdom  of  Christ  beyond  where  it  stood  then,  we  are  led 
to  say,  "  Suppose  that  all  the  good  men,  now  loving  God  and  desiring 
his  glory,  were  but  to  be  multiplied  in  equal  ratio  during  the  next  cen- 
tury, as  those  few  have  been  during  the  last  century  ;  what  an  amazing 
stride  would  be  made  towai'd  the  conversion  of  the  whole  world !" 

Is  this  too  much  to  expect  P  Are  we  to  conclude,  that  the  force  of  the 
animating  Spii-it  is  spent,  and  that  an  age  of  feebleness  must  succeed  tc 


THE     GIFT     0¥    POWER.  gQg 

one  of  poAver  ?  To  do  so  is  fearfully  to  disbelieve  at  once  tlie  goodness 
and  tlu;  faithfulness  of  our  God.  Some  say  that,  because  populations 
have  become  familiarized  Avith  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  tve  are  not  to 
expect  the  same  converting  eft'ects  as  when  those  truths  wei-e  new.  If 
this  be  so,  we  had  better  make  way  for  a  generation  of  rationalists  and 
Ibrmalists,  to  prepare  the  ground  again  for  spiritual  cultivation  !  Some 
say  that,  because  the  age  is  so  educated,  intellectual,  scientific,  and  in- 
quisitive, men  are  not  so  susceptible  of  the  influence  of  Christianity. 
Then  shall  we  wait  for  an  age  less  enlightened  and  less  educated  ?  Some 
say  that  the  age  is  so  unduly  active,  forcing  enterprise  and  commerce  to 
the  point  of  absorbing  every  man,  till  religion  is  pushed  aside.  Must  we 
then  wait  for  a  duUer  and  more  lethargic  time  ?  Some  say  that  the  Lord 
does  not  give  us  great  success  lest  Ave  should  be  uplifted.  Is  it  his  way 
to  promote  humility  by  giving  small  results  to  great  agencies,  or  by  giv- 
ing great  results  to  small  ones  ?  And  would  not  results  after  the  Pente- 
costal scale  make  any  of  our  agencies  seem  small?  These  are  miserable 
Aviths  Avherewdth  to  bind  the  giant  church  of  God.  Away  Avith  them  every 
one !  After  going  round  all  the  reasons  which  one  hears  ordinarily  as- 
signed for  the  greater  direct  success  of  preachers  in  the  last  century  than 
now,  our  mind  finds  rest  only  in  that  one  reason,  which  carries  a  Avorld 
of  rebuke  and  of  humiliation  to  ourselves:  they  produced  (jreater  effects^ 
simply  because  of  the  greater  poxcer  of  God  within  them. 

Every  ray  of  gospel  truth  that  exists  in  any  man  is  on  our  side.  All 
intelligence,  all  intellectual  activity,  all  vigor  of  character,  are  more  for 
ns  than  their  opposites  Avould  be.  In  fact,  they  are  very  much  the 
fruit,  the  indirect  and  secondary  fruit,  of  the  past  triumphs  of  religion  ; 
for  it  is  impossible  that  true  godliness  shall  spread  among  any  people, 
Avithout  stimulating  theii"  intellectual  and  social  energies.  It  is  hard  to 
imagine  a  satire  on  the  gospel  more  bitter  tlian  that  it  should  be  powerful 
Avhen  new  to  men,  and  impotent  Avhen  familiar;  that  it  should  be  good 
for  tlie  lialf  barbarous,  but  not  for  those  Avhom  itself  had  refined  ;  capable 
of  captivating  the  inert,  but  incapable  of  commanding  the  masculine  and 
the  energetic.  We  expect  ages  not  less  instructed  in  Christian  doc- 
trine, but  far  more  instructed  ;  not  intellectually  duller,  but  more  active; 
not  darker  as  to  science  and  literature,  but  inconceivably  brighter ;  not 
slower  as  to  invention,  enterprise,  and  progress,  but  more  vigoi-ous  by 
far.  And  am  I  to  return  to  "  the  glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God," 
Avhereto  I  feel  that  I  and  mine,  my  kindred,  my  country,  tlie  race  from 
Avhich  I  have  sprung,  the  lands  in  Avhich  I  have  traveled,  are  all  indebted 
for  their  purest  and  brightest  things — and  say  to  it,  "  When  these  bright 
ages  come,  thou  shalt  lag  behind,  perhaps  recollected  as  one  of  the  infim- 
tine  instructors  of  the  Avorld,  but  distanced  by  the  progress  of  man  ?"  Let 
those  Avho  assign  reasons  for  our  Avant  of  fruitfulness  Avhich  fairly  soav 
the  seeds  of  rationalism,  prepare  to  render  an  account  lohen  the  f  rait  of 
sowing  comes  to  be  reaped  I 


DISCOURSE    XL  1 1 1. 

CHARLES    H.    SPUROEON. 

The  appearance  of  no  man  since  the  days  of  Wesley  and  Whitefield,  has  produced 
a  deeper  sensation  in  G-reat  Britain  than  has  that  of  this  young  clergyman.  He  is 
now  but  about  twenty-three  years  of  age,  having  been  born  at  Kelvedon,  Essex, 
June  the  19th,  1834.  His  father  and  grandfather  are  both  Independent  ministers. 
There  is  a  younger  brother  of  much  promise,  now  in  the  Baptist  College  at  Stepney. 
His  early  education  was  respectable.  To  use  his  own  words,  in  answer  to  our  in- 
quiries, he  obtained  his  education  "  nominally  at  divers  schools,  really  by  summer 
rambles,  hard  private  studies,  and  close  ohservation."  He  passed  a  year  in  the  Agri- 
cultural College  at  Maidstone,  in  the  study  of  natural  science,  then  he  became  usher 
of  a  school,  first  in  Newmarket,  and  subsequently  at  Cambridge.  While  thus  em- 
ployed, he  began  to  address  Sabbath-schools ;  and,  finding  that  his  eiforts  in  this 
way  proved  attractive,  he  commenced  preaching,  in  1851,  on  Sunday  evenings,  in 
the  surrounding  villages.  In  the  autumn  of  that  year,  a  small  Baptist  church  at 
Waterbeach  (five  miles  north-east  of  Cambridge),  invited  him  to  become  their  pas- 
tor. Answering  to  their  call,  he  entered  earnestly  upon  the  labors  of  the  ministry, 
preaching  as  many  as  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  sermons  in  a  year — not  only 
in  his  own  chapel,  but  as  an  evangelist  in  surrounding  villages.  His  fervid  and 
engaging  manner,  his  extreme  youth,  and  the  wonderful  activity  which  he  mani- 
fested, attracted  public  attention,  and,  in  January,  1854,  he  was  invited  to  the 
pastoral  care  of  the  Baptist  church  in  New  Park-street,  London,  where  he  now 
preaches.  The  church,  which  was  then  small,  now  numbers  nearly  a  thousand 
communicants.  Mr.  Spurgeon  never  appears  on  the  platform,  but  only  in  the 
pulpit,  and  he  preaches  some  ten  times  a  week,  often  traveling  miles  to  accom- 
plish it.  One  hundred  persons  who  have  united  with  his  church,  date  their  con- 
version, under  God,  to  the  sermons  he  preached  in  Exeter  Hall,  while  his  house  was 
being  enlarged,  and  fifteen  of  them  to  one  sermon.  A  thousand  people  are  said  to 
be  present,  sometimes,  at  the  prayer-meeting. 

Mr.  Spurgeon  is  said  to  be  of  the  middle  size,  thick  set  in  figure,  with  a  deep, 
capacious  chest,  and  a  throat,  and  tongue,  and  lip,  all  formed  for  oratory.  His  hair 
is  black,  over  a  tolerably  wide  forehead;  his  eyes  dark,  and  deeply  set.  His  man- 
ner in  the  pulpit  is  energy  from  first  to  last,  impelled  by  a  vehement  purpose,  and  a 
determination  to  arouse  from  the  beginning.  A  frequent  hearer  gives  the  following 
description  :  "  When  he  is  fairly  engaged  with  his  subject,  his  countenance  is  full  of 
earnestness,  and  he  speaks  with  a  force  and  impetuosity,  an  intensity  and  nimble- 
ness,  which  at  once  engages  and  rivets  the  attention  of  his  audience.  The  force  of 
his  diction  is  absolutely  overwhelming.  He  plunges  at  once  into  his  subject,  illus- 
trates it  with  the  noblest  and  grandest  images  which  the  imagination  is  capable  of 


CHARLES    H.    SPURGEON. 


605 


conceiving,  until  he  conducts  the  listei.er  to  a,  climax  at  once  startling  from  its  nov- 
elty, and  striking  from  its  appositeness.  His  readiness  and  command  of  language 
strong,  idiomatic,  and  varied,  is  quite  astonishing  in  so  young  a  man ;  and  he  poura 
fortli  a  torrent  of  eloquence  with  a  vigor  and  velocity  which  is  only  equaled  by  the 
skill  and  consummate  ability  with  which  it  is  sustained  to  the  end  of  his  discourse." 

His  sermons  are  wholly  unwritten,  but  are  usually  taken  down  in  short-hand 
by  the  reporters,  at  whose  request  he  is  understood  frequently  to  revise  them  before 
publication.  Immense  numbers  of  them  are  printed,  and  circulated  all  through 
Great  Britain.  Two  volumes  have  been  published  in  this  counti-y,  of  the  first  of 
which  more  than  twenty  thousand  copies  were  called  for  in  less  than  a  year,  and  of 
the  second  (lately  published),  some  ten  thousand  or  over  are  understood  to  have 
been  sold. 

It  has  been  remarked,  that  great  orators,  whether  of  the  pulpit,  or  the  platform, 
or  the  senate-chamber,  make  many  friends  and  many  foes.  They  invite  criticism,  to 
say  the  least ;  and  of  this  Mr.  Spurgeon  has  had  his  fall  share.  In  one  thing,  how- 
ever, we  believe  there  is  unanimity  of  opinion :  that  he  is  not  open  to  the  censure 
of  Quintilian :  "  His  gi'eatest  excelleuce  is,  that  he  has  no  fault ;  and  his  greatest 
fault  is,  that  he  has  no  excellence."  By  common  consent,  too,  he  has  puJpit  poive7\ 
There  must  be  something  more  than  vehement  declamation  to  hold  an  audience, 
of  several  thousands  of  hearers,  spell-bound  for  a  full  hour,  and  be  compelled, 
even  at  the  expiration  of  a  period  of  two  years  or  more,  to  use  tickets  of  admis- 
sion, and  hang  out  placards  that  the  house  was  filled,  in  order  to  prevent  suflbca- 
tion  in  the  largest  places  of  pubhc  gathering.  A  still  more  striking  evidence  of  hia 
ministerial  ability,  is  the  approval  of  the  Spu'it,  in  the  piety  and  edification  of  hia 
flock,  and  the  large  and  almost  constant  accession  of  converts  to  the  faith  of  the 
gospel.  No  man  could  accomplish  what  Mr.  Spurgeon  has  done  and  is  doing, 
especially  with  his  lack  of  the  culture  of  the  schools,  unless  remarkably  endowed 
by  the  great  Head  of  the  church.  It  is,  moreover,  universally  admitted,  we  be- 
heve,  that  he  is  a  man  of  prayer,  and  of  deep  and  unaffected  piety.  If  the  grace 
of  humility  continues  to  be  vouchsafed,  his  career  may  become  one  of  most  extended 
usefulness. 

As  to  the  character  of  Mr.  Spurgeon's  sermons,  while  they  contain  things  ex- 
ceptionable, and  would  not  in  all  cases  suit  a  fastidious  taste,  they  may  yet  be  read 
with  profit.  They  would  be  of  special  service  in  cases  where  a  preacher  is  "  dull 
by  rule,"  and  his  pulpit  is  "  dying  of  dignity."  Their  more  marked  peculiarities, 
are,  a  happy  choice  of  texts  and  subjects,  simple  and  natural  arrangement  of  the 
several  parts,  almost  always  textual ;  an  entire  absence  of  learned  criticism,  and 
thorough  exposition ;  a  happy  weaving  in  of  Scripture  phraseology,  the  evangel- 
ical element  being  their  warp  and  woof;  a  lucid,  simple,  colloquial  style  of  utter- 
ance ;  sprightliness,  and  originality  of  conception  ;  frequent  and  graphic  narrative ; 
apt  poetical  quotations,  and  striking  figures  and  illustrations,  sometimes  homely, 
but  always  telling;  high-toned  doctrinal  sentiment,  and  fervid,  faithfu^  home  ap- 
peals to  the  heart  and  conscience  of  saint  and  unbeliever. 

The  sermon  which  we  have  selected  is  a  favorable  specimen.  Some  of  Mr. 
Spurgeon's  most  marked  felicities  of  conception  and  style  are  here  perceivable. 
The  sul:>ject  affords  room  for  the  play  of  his  wonderful  fancy,  and  his  seemingly 
instinctive  ingenuity  in  bringing  forward  just  the  points  which  are  most  telling  and 
attractive. 


606 


CHARLES    H.    SPURGEON. 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT. 


"But  none  saith,  "Where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night?" — Job, 

XXXT.  IC, 

Elihu  was  a  wise  man,  exceeding  wise,  though  not  as  wise  as  the  all- 
wise  Jehovah,  who  sees  light  in  the  clouds,  and  finds  order  in  confusion  ; 
hence  Elihu,  being  much  puzzled  at  beholding  Job  thus  afllicted,  cast 
about  him  to  find  the  cause  of  it,  and  he  very  wisely  hit  uj^on  one  of  the 
most  likely  reasons,  although  it  did  not  happen  to  be  the  right  one  in 
Job's  case.  He  said  within  himself — "  Surely,  if  men  be  tried  and 
troubled  exceedingly,  it  is  because,  while  they  think  about  their  troubles 
and  distress  themselves,  about  their  fears,  they  do  not  say,  'Where  is 
God  my  Maker,  Avho  giveth  songs  in  the  night  ?' "  Elihu's  reason  was 
very  right  in  the  majority  of  cases.  The  great  cause  of  the  Christian's 
distress,  the  reason  of  the  depths  of  sori'ow  into  which  many  believers 
are  plunged,  is  simply  this — that  Avhile  they  are  looking  about,  on  the 
right  hand  and  on  the  left,  to  see  how  they  may  escape  their  troubles, 
they  forget  to  look  to  the  hills  whence  all  real  help  cometh  ;  they  do  not 
say,  "  Where  is  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night  ?"  We 
shall,  however,  leave  that  inquiry,  and  dwell  upon  those  sweet  words, 
"  God  my  Maker,  who  giveth  songs  in  the  night." 

The  world  hath  its  night.  It  seemeth  necessary  that  it  should  have 
one.  The  sun  shineth  by  day,  and  men  go  forth  to  their  labors  ;  but 
they  grow  weary,  and  nightfall  cometh  on,  like  a  sweet  boon  fi-om  heaven. 
The  darkness  draweth  the  curtains,  and  shutteth  out  the  light,  which 
might  prevent  our  eyes  from  slumber ;  while  the  sweet,  calm  stillness  of 
the  night  permits  us  to  rest  upon  the  lap  of  ease,  and  there  forget  awhile 
our  cares,  until  the  morning  sun  appeareth,  and  an  angel  puts  his  hand 
upon  the  curtain,  and  undraws  it  once  again,  touches  our  eyelids,  and 
bids  us  rise,  and  proceed  to  the  labors  of  the  day.  Night  is  one  of  the 
greatest  blessings  men  enjoy ;  we  have  many  reasons  to  thank  God  for 
it.  Yet  night  is  to  many  a  gloomy  season.  There  is  "  the  pestilence 
that  walketh  in  darkness  ;"  there  is  "  the  terror  by  night ;"  there  is  the 
dread  of  robbers  and  of  fell  disease,  with  all  those  fears  that  the  timor- 
ous know,  when  they  have  no  light  Avherewilh  they  can  discern  objects. 
It  is  then  they  fancy  that  spiritual  creatures  walk  the  earth ;  though,  if 
they  knew  rightly,  they  would  find  it  to  be  true,  that 

"  Millions  of  spiritual  creatures  walk  this  earth, 
Unseen,  both  when  we  sleep  and  when  we  wake," 

and  that  at  all  times  they  are  round  about  us — not  more  by  night  than 
by  day.  Night  is  the  season  of  terror  and  alarm  to  most  men.  Yet 
even  night  hath  its  songs.  Have  you  never  stood  by  the  seaside  at  night, 
and  heard  the  pebbles  sing,  and  the  waves  chant  God's  glories?     Or 


SONGS    IN    THE     NIGHT.  gQT 

have  yon  never  risen  from  your  conch,  and  thrown  up  the  window  of 
your  chamber,  and  Ustencd  tliere  ?  Listened  to  what  ?  Silence — savo 
now  and  then  a  murmuring  sound,  which  seems  sweet  music  then.  And 
have  you  not  foncied  that  you  heard  the  harp  of  God  playing  in  heaven  ? 
Did  you  not  conceive,  that  yon  stars,  that  those  eyes  of  God,  looking 
down  on  you,  were  also  mouths  of  song — that  every  star  Avas  singing 
God's  glory,  singing,  as  it  shone,  its  mighty  Maker,  and  his  lawful,  well- 
deserved  praise  ?  Night  hath  its  songs.  We  need  not  much  poetry  in 
our  spirit,  to  catch  the  song  of  night,  and  hear  the  spheres  as  they  chant 
praises  Avhich  are  loud  to  the  heart,  though  they  be  silent  to  the  ear — 
the  praises  of  the  mighty  God,  who  bears  up  the  unpillared  arch  of 
heaven,  and  moves  the  stars  in  their  courses. 

Man,  too,  like  the  great  world  in  which  he  lives,  must  have  his  night. 
For  it  is  true  that  man  is  like  the  world  around  him  ;  he  is  a  little  world ; 
he  resembles  the  world  in  almost  every  thing  ;  and  if  the  world  hath  its 
night,  so  hath  man.  And  many  a  night  do  we  have — nights  of  sorrow, 
nights  of  persecution,  nights  of  doi;bt,  nights  of  bewilderment,  nights 
of  anxiety,  nights  of  oj^pression,  nights  of  ignorance — nights  of  all  kinds, 
which  press  upon  our  spirits  and  terrify  our  souls.  But,  blessed  be  God, 
the  Chi-istian  man  can  say,  "My  God  giveth  me  songs  in  the  night." 

It  is  not  necessary,  I  take  it,  to  prove  to  you  that  Christian  men  have 
nights ;  for  if  you  are  Christians,  you  will  find  that  you  have  them,  and 
you  will  not  want  any  proof,  for  nights  will  come  quite  often  enough.  I 
will,  therefore,  proceed  at  once  to  the  subject ;  and  I  will  speak  this 
evening  upon  sor.gs  in  the  night,  their  source — God  giveth  them  ;  songs 
in  the  night,  their  matter — what  do  we  sing  about  in  the  night  ?  songs 
in  the  night,  their  excellence — ^they  are  hearty  songs,  and  they  are  sweet 
ones;  songs  iu  the  night,  their  uses — their  benefits  to  ourselves  and 
others. 

I.  First,  songs  in  the  night — wiio  is  the  Author  of  them  ?  "  God^"* 
says  the  text,  our  "  Maker :"  he  "  giveth  songs  in  the  night." 

Any  fool  can  sing  in  the  day.  When  the  cup  is  full,  man  draws  inspi-  C 
ration  from  it ;  when  wealth  rolls  in  abundance  around  him,  any  man 
can  sing  to  the  praise  of  a  God  who  gives  a  plenteous  harvest,  or  sends 
home  a  loaded  argosy.  It  is  easy  enough  for  an  ^Eolian  harp  to  whisper 
music  when  the  winds  blow ;  the  difficulty  is  for  music  to  come  when  no 
wind  bloweth.  It  is  easy  to  sing  when  we  can  read  the  notes  by  day- 
light ;  but  the  skillful  singer  is  he  who  can  sing  when  thei'c  is  not  a  ray 
of  light  to  read  by — who  sings  from  his  heart,  and  not  from  a  book  that 
he  can  see,  because  he  has  no  means  ol"  reading,  save  from  that  inward 
b(  ok  of  his  own  living  spirit,  whence  notes  of  gratitude  pour  out  in  songs 
of  praise.  No  man  can  make  a  song  in  the  night  himself;  he  may 
attempt  it,  but  he  will  feel  how  difficult  it  is.  Let  all  things  go  as  I  please 
—  I  will  weave  songs,  weave  them  wherever  I  go,  with  the  flowers  that 


603  CHARLES    H.    SPURGEON. 

gi'ow  upon  my  path ;  but  put  me  in  a  desert,  where  no  flowers  are,  and 
wherewith  shull  I  weave  a  chorus  of  praise  to  God  ?  How  shall  I  make 
a  crown  for  him  ?  Let  this  voice  be  free,  and  this  body  be  full  of  health, 
and  I  can  sing  God's  praise ;  but  stop  this  tongue,  lay  me  upon  the  bed 
of  languishing,  and  it  is  not  so  easy  to  sing  from  the  bed,  and  chant  high 
praises  in  the  fires.  Give  me  the  bliss  of  sjjiritvial  liberty,  and  let  me 
mount  up  to  my  God,  get  near  the  throne,  and  I  will  sing,  ay,  sing  as 
sweet  as  seraphs  ;  but  confine  me,  fetter  my  spirit,  clip  my  wings,  make 
me  exceeding  sad,  so  that  I  become  old  like  the  eagle — ah !  then  it  is 
hard  to  sing.  It  is  not  in  man's  power  to  sing,  when  all  is  adverse.  It 
is  not  natural  to  sing  in  trouble — "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all 
that  is  within  me  bless  his  holy  name :"  for  that  is  a  daylight  song.  But 
it  was  a  divine  song  which  Habakkuk  sang,  Avhen  in  the  night  he  said — 
"  Though  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,"  and  so  on,  "  yet  will  I  trust  in 
the  Lord,  and  stay  myself  in  the  God  of  Jacob."  Methmks  in  the  Red 
Sea  any  man  could  have  made  a  song  like  that  of  Moses — "  The  horse 
and  his  rider  hath  he  thrown  into  the  sea ;"  the  difliculty  would  have 
been,  to  compose  a  song  before  the  Red  Sea  had  been  divided,  and  to 
sing  it  before  Pharaoh's  hosts  had  been  drowned,  while  yet  the  darkness 
of  doubt  and  fear  was  resting  on  Israel's  hosts.  Songs  in  the  night  come 
only  from  God ;  they  are  not  in  the  power  of  man. 

But  what  does  the  text  mean,  when  it  asserts  that  God  giveth  songa 
in  the  night  ?  We  think  we  find  two  answers  to  the  question.  The  first 
is,  that  usually  in  the  night  of  a  Christian's  experience  God  is  his  only 
song.  If  it  be  daylight  in  my  heart,  I  can  sing  songs  touching  my  graces 
— songs  touching  my  sweet  experience — songs  touching  my  duties — 
songs  touching  my  labors ;  but  let  the  night  come — my  graces  appear  to 
have  withered ;  my  evidences,  though  they  are  there,  are  hidden ;  I  can 

not 

"  read  my  title  clear 
To  mansions  in  the  skies ;" 

and  now  I  have  nothing  left  to  sing  of  but  my  God.  It  is  strange,  that 
when  God  gives  his  children  mercies,  they  generally  set  their  hearts 
more  on  the  mercies  than  on  the  Giver  of  them ;  but  when  the  night 
comes,  and  he  sweeps  all  the  mercies  away,  then  at  once  they  say,  "Now, 
my  God,  I  have  nothing  to  sing  of  but  thee  ;  I  must  come  to  thee ;  and 
to  thee  only.  I  had  cisterns  once ;  they  were  full  of  water ;  I  drank 
from  them  then ;  but  now  the  created  streams  are  dry ;  sweet  Lord,  I 
quaft"no  stream  but  thine  own  self,  I  drink  from  no  fount  but  from  thee." 
Ay,  child  of  God,  thou  knowest  what  I  say ;  or  if  thou  dost  not  under- 
stand it  yet,  thou  wilt  do  so  by-and-by.  It  is  in  the  night  we  sing  of 
God,  and  of  God  alone.  Every  string  is  tuned,  and  every  power  hath 
its  attribute  to  sing,  Avhile  we  praise  God,  and  nothing  else.  We  can 
sacrifice  to  ourselves  in  daylight — we  only  sacrifice  to  God  by  night ;  we 
can  sing  high  praises  to  our  dear  selves  when  all  is  joyful,  but  Ave  can 


SONGS    IN    THE     NIGHT.  CQQ 

not  sing  praise  to  any  save  our  God,  when  circumstances  are  untoward, 
and  providences  appear  adverse.  God  alone  can  furnish  us  witli  songs 
in  the  night. 

And  yet  again  :  not  only  does  God  give  the  song  in  the  night,  because 
he  is  the  only  subject  upon  -which  we  can  sing  then,  but  because  he  is  the 
only  one  who  ins2nres  so7igs  in  the  night.  Bring  me  up  a  poor,  melan- 
choly, distressed  child  of  God :  I  come  into  the  pulpit,  I  seek  to  tell  him 
sweet  promises,  and  whisper  to  him  sweet  words  of  comfort ;  he  listeneth 
not  to  me ;  he  is  like  the  deaf  adder,  he  listens  not  to  the  voice  of  the 
charmer,  charm  he  never  so  wisely.  Send  him  round  to  all  the  comfort- 
ing divines,  and  all  the  holy  Barnabases  that  ever  preached,  and  they 
will  do  very  little — they  will  not  be  able  to  squeeze  a  song  out  of  him, 
do  what  they  may.  He  is  drinking  the  gall  of  wormwood  ;  he  says,  "  O 
Lord,  thou  hast  made  me  drunk  with  weeping,  I  have  eaten  ashes  like 
bread  f  and  comfort  him  as  you  may,  it  will  be  only  a  woeful  note  or  two 
of  mournful  resignation  that  you  will  get  from  him ;  you  will  get  no 
psalms  of  praise,  no  hallelujahs,  no  sonnets.  But  let  God  come  to  his 
child  in  the  night,  let  him  whisper  in  his  ear  as  he  lies  on  his  bed,  and 
how  you  see  his  eyes  flash  fire  in  the  night !     Do  you  not  hear  him  say, 

"  'Tis  paradise  if  thou  art  here ; 
If  thou  depart,  'tis  hell." 

Z could  not  have  cheered  him:  it  is  God  that  has  done  it;  and  God 
"  giveth  songs  in  the  night."  It  is  marvelous,  brethren,  how  one  sweet 
word  of  God  will  ma-ke  whole  songs  for  Christians.  One  word  of  God  is 
like  a  piece  of  gold,  and  the  Christian  is  the  gold-beater,  and  he  can  ham- 
mer that  promise  out  for  whole  weeks.  I  can  say  myself,  I  have  lived 
on  one  in-omise  for  weeks,  and  want  no  other.  I  want  just  simply  to 
hammer  that  promise  out  into  gold-leaf,  and  plate  my  whole  existence 
with  joy  from  it.  The  Christian  gets  his  songs  from  God :  God  gives 
him  inspiration,  and  teaches  him  how  to  sing  :  "  God  my  Maker,  who 
giveth  songs  in  the  night." 

So,  then,  poor  Christian,  thou  needest  not  go  pumping  up  thy  poor 
heart  to  make  it  glad.  Go  to  thy  Maker,  and  ask  him  to  give  thee  a 
song  in  the  night.  Thou  art  a  poor  dry  well :  thou  hast  heard  it  said, 
that  when  a  pump  is  dry,  you  must  pour  water  down  it  first  of  all,  and 
then  you  will  get  some  up ;  and  so,  Chi-istian,  when  thou  art  dry,  go  to 
God,  ask  him  to  pour  some  joy  down  thee  and  then  thou  wilt  get  some 
joy  up  from  thine  own  heart.  Do  not  go  to  this  comforter  or  that,  for 
you  will  find  them  Job's  comforters,  after  all ;  but  go  thou  first  and  fore- 
most to  thy  Maker,  for  he  is  the  great  composer  of  songs  and  teacher  of 
music ;  he  it  is  who  can  teach  thee  how  to  sing :  "  God,  my  Maker,  who 
giveth  me  songs  in  the  night." 

II.  Thus  we  have  dwelt  upon  the  first  point.  Xow  the  second.  "What 
39 


glO  CHARLES    H.     SPURGEON. 

IS  GENERALLY  THE  MATTER  CONTAINED  IN  A  SONG  IN  THE  NIGHT  ?      What 

do  we  sing  about  ? 

Why,  I  think,  when  we  sing  by  night,  there  are  three  things  we  sing 
about.  Either  Ave  sing  about  the  yesterday  that  is  over,  or  else  about 
the  night  itself,  or  else  about  the  morrow  that  is  to  come.  Each  of  these 
are  sweet  themes,  when  God  our  Maker  gives  us  songs  in  the  night.  In 
the  midst  of  the  night  the  most  usual  method  for  Christians  is  to  sing 
about  the  day  that  is  over.  "  Well,"  they  say,  "  it  is  night  now, 
but  I  can  remember  when  it  was  daylight.  Neither  moon  nor  stars  ap- 
pear at  present ;  but  I  can  remember  when  I  saw  the  sun.  I  have  no 
evidence  just  now ;  but  there  was  a  time  when  I  could  say,  '  I  know  that 
my  Redeemer  liveth.'  I  have  my  doubts  and  fears  at  this  present  mo- 
ment ;  but  it  is  not  long  since  I  could  say,  with  full  assurance,  '  I  know 
that  he  shed  his  blood  for  me ;  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  and 
when  he  shall  stand  a  second  time  upon  the  earth,  though  the  worms  de- 
vour this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  I  shall  see  God.'  It  may  be  darkness 
now ;  but  I  know  the  promises  ^cere  sweet ;  I  know  I  had  blessed  seasons 
in  his  house.  I  am  quite  sure  of  this;  I  used  to  enjoy  myself  in  the  ways 
of  the  Lord  ;  and  though  now  my  paths  are  strewn  with  thorns,  I  know 
it  is  the  King's  highway.  It  was  a  way  of  pleasantness  once  ;  it  will  be 
a  way  of  pleasantness  again.  'I  will  remember  the  days  of  old;  1  will 
meditate  upon  the  years  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  High.'  "  Christian, 
perhaps  the  best  song  thou  canst  sing,  to  cheer  thee  in  the  night,  is  the 
song  of  y ester-morn.  Remembei",  it  was  not  always  night  with  thee 
night  is  a  new  thing  to  thee.  Once  thou  hadst  a  glad  heart,  a  buoyant 
spirit :  once  thine  eye  was  full  of  hre ;  once  thy  foot  was  light ;  once 
thou  couldst  sing  for  very  joy  and  eestacy  of  heart.  Well,  then,  remem- 
ber that  God,  who  made  thee  sing  yesterday,  has  not  left  thee  in  the 
night.  He  is  not  a  daylight  God,  who  can  not  know  his  children  in  dark- 
ness ;  but  he  loves  thee  now  as  much  as  ever :  though  he  has  left  thee  a 
little,  it  is  to  prove  thee,  to  make  thee  trust  him  better,  and  serve  him 
more.  Let  me  tell  you  some  of  the  sweet  things  of  which  a  Christian 
may  make  a  song  when  he  is  in  the  night. 

If  we  are  going  to  sing  of  the  things  of  yesterday,  let  us  begin  with 
what  God  did  for  us  in  past  times.  My  beloved  brethren,  you  will  find 
it  a  sweet  subject  for  song  at  times,  to  begin  to  sing  of  electing  love  and 
covenanted  mercies.  When  thou  thyself  art  low,  it  is  well  to  sing  of  the 
fountain-head  of  mercy ;  of  that  blessed  decree  wherein  thou  wast  or- 
dained to  eternal  life,  and  of  that  glorious  Man  who  undertook  thy 
redemption  ;  of  that  solemn  covenant  signed,  and  sealed,  and  ratified,  in  all 
things  ordered  well ;  of  that  everlasting  love  which,  ere  the  hoary  mount- 
ains were  begotten,  or  ere  the  aged  hills  were  children,  chose  thee,  loved 
thee  firmly,  loved  thee  fast,  loved  thee  well,  loved  thee  eternally.  I  tell 
thee,  believer,  if  thou  canst  go  back  to  the  years  of  eternity ;  if  thou 
canst  in  thy  mind  run  back  to  that  period,  or  ere  the  everlasting  hills 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT.  611 

were  fashioned,  or  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  scooped  out,  and  if 
thou  canst  see  thy  God  inscribing  thy  name  in  his  eternal  book  ;  if  thou 
canst  see  in  his  loving  heart  eternal  thoughts  of  love  to  thee,  thou  wilt 
find  this  a  charming  means  of  giving  thee  songs  in  the  night.  No  songs 
like  those  which  come  from  electing  love ;  no  sonnets  like  those  that  are 
dictated  by  meditations  on  discriminating  mercy.  Some,  indeed,  can 
not  sing  of  election  :  the  Lord  open  their  mouths  a  little  wider !  Some 
there  are  that  are  afraid  of  the  very  term  ;  but  we  only  despise  men  who 
are  afraid  of  what  they  believe,  afraid  of  what  God  has  taught  them  in 
his  Bible.     No,  in  our  darker  hours  it  is  our  joy  to  sing: 

"  Sons  we  are  through  God's  election, 

Who  in  Jesus  Christ  believe ; 
By  eternal  destination, 

Sovereign  grace  we  now  receive. 
Lord,  thy  favor, 

ShaU  both  grace  and  glory  give." 

Think,  Christian,  of  the  yesterday,  I  say,  and  thou  wilt  get  a  song  in  the 
night.  But  if  thou  hast  not  a  voice  tuned  to  so  high  a  key  as  that,  let 
me  suggest  some  other  mercies  thou  mayest  sing  of;  and  they  are  the 
mercies  thou  hast  experienced.  What !  man,  canst  thou  not  sing  a  little 
of  that  blessed  hour  when  Jesus  met  thee ;  when,  a  blind  slave,  thou 
wast  sporting  with  death,  and  he  saw  thee,  and  said  :  "  Come,  poor  slave, 
come  with  me  ?"  Canst  thou  not  sing  of  that  rapturous  moment  when 
he  snapped  thy  fetters,  dashed  thy  chains  to  the  earth,  and  said,  "  I  am 
the  Breaker ;  I  came  to  break  thy  chains,  and  set  thee  free  ?"  What 
though  thou  art  ever  so  gloomy  now,  canst  thou  forget  that  happy  morn- 
ing, when  in  the  house  of  God  thy  voice  was  loud,  almost  as  a  seraph's 
voice,  in  praise  ?  for  thou  couldst  sing :  "  I  am  forgiven ;  I  am  forgi^  en :" 

"  A  monument  of  grace, 
A  sinner  saved  by  blood." 

Go  back,  man  ;  sing  of  that  moment,  and  then  thou  wilt  have  a  song  in 
the  night.  Or  if  thou  hast  almost  forgotten  that,  then  sure  thou  hast 
some  precious  milestone  along  the  road  of  life  that  is  not  quite  grown 
over  with  moss,  on  which  thou  canst  read  some  happy  inscription  of  his 
mercy  toward  thee  !  What !  didst  thou  never  have  a  sickness  like  that 
which  thou  art  suffering  now,  and  did  he  not  raise  thee  up  from  that  ? 
Wast  thou  never  poor  before,  and  did  he  not  supply  thy  wants  ?  Wast 
thou  never  in  straits  befoi'e,  and  did  he  not  deliver  thee  ?  Come,  man  ! 
I  beseech  thee,  go  to  the  river  of  thine  experience,  and  pull  up  a  few  bul- 
rushes, and  weave  them  into  an  ark,  wherein  thine  inflmt  faith  may  float 
safely  on  the  stream.  I  bid  thee  not  forget  what  God  hath  done.  What ! 
hast  thou  buried  thine  own  diary  ?  I  beseech  thee,  man,  turn  over  the 
book  of  thy  remembrance.     Canst  thou  not  see  some  sweet  hill  Mizar  ? 


612  CHARLES    n.    SPURGEON. 

Canst  thou  not  tliiuk  of  some  blessed  hour  when  the  Lord  met  with  thee 
at  Hermon  ?  Hast  thou  never  been  on  the  Delectable  Mountains  ? 
Hast  thou  never  been  fetched  from  the  den  of  lions  ?  Hast  thou  never 
escaped  the  jaw  of  the  lion  and  the  paw  of  the  bear?  Nay,  O  man,  I 
know  thou  hast ;  go  back,  then,  a  little  way,  and  take  the  mercies  ot 
yesterday  ;  and  though  it  is  dark  now,  light  up  the  lamps  of  yesterday, 
and  they  shall  glitter  through  the  darkness,  and  thou  shalt  find  that  God 
hath  given  thee  a  song  in  the  night. 

"  Ay,"  says  one,  "  but  you  know,  that  when  we  are  in  the  dark,  we 
can  not  see  the  mercies  God  has  given  us.  It  is  all  very  well  for  you 
to  tell  us  this ;  but  we  can  not  get  hold  of  them,"  I  remember  an  old 
experimental  Christian  speaking  about  the  great  pillars  of  our  faith  ;  he 
was  a  sailor ;  we  were  then  on  board  ship,  and  there  were  sundry  huge 
posts  on  the  shore,  to  which  the  ships  were  usually  fastened,  by  throw- 
ing a  cable  over  them.  After  I  had  told  him  a  great  many  promises,  he 
said,  "  I  know  they  are  good  strong  promises,  but  I  can  not  get  near 
enough  to  shore  to  throw  my  cable  around  them  ;  that  is  the  difficulty." 

Now  it  happens  that  God's  past  mercies  and  loving-kindnesses  would 
be  good  sure  posts  to  hold  on  to,  but  we  have  not  got  faith  enough  to 
throw  our  cable  round  them,  and  so  we  go  slipping  down  the  stream  of 
unbelief,  because  we  can  not  stay  ourselves  by  our  former  mercies.  I 
will,  however,  give  yovi  something  that  I  think  you  can  throw  your 
cable  over.  If  God  has  never  been  kind  to  you,  one  thing  you  surely 
know,  and  that  is,  he  has  been  kind  to  others.  Come,  now ;  if  thou  art 
in  ever  so  great  straits,  sure  there  were  others  in  greater  straits.  What! 
art  thou  lower  down  than  poor  Jonah  was,  when  he  went  down  to  the 
bottoms  of  the  mountains  ?  Art  thou  more  poorly  ofi'than  thy  Master, 
when  he  had  not  a  place  where  to  lay  his  head  ?  What !  conceivest 
thou  thyself  to  be  the  worst  of  the  worst  ?  Look  at  Job  there,  scraping 
himself  with  a  potsherd,  and  sitting  on  a  dunghill.  Art  thou  as  bad  as 
he  ?  And  yet  Job  rose  up,  and  was  richer  than  before  ;  and  out  of  the 
depths  Jonah  came,  and  preached  the  word  ;  and  our  Saviour  Jesus 
hath  mounted  to  his  throne.  O  Christian  !  only  think  of  what  he  has 
done  for  others !  Never  be  ashamed  of  taking  a  leaf  out  of  another 
man's  experience-book.  If  thou  canst  find  no'  good  leaf  in  thine  own, 
tear  one  out  of  some  one's  else ;  and  if  thou  hast  no  cause  to  be  grateful 
to  God  in  darkness,  or  canst  not  find  cause  in  thine  own  experience,  go 
to  some  one  else,  and,  if  thou  canst,  harp  his  praise  in  the  dark,  and  like 
the  nightingale,  sing  his  praise  sweetly  when  all  the  world  has  gone  to 
rest.     We  can  sing  in  the  night  of  the  mercies  of  yesterday. 

But  I  think,  beloved,  there  is  never  so  dark  a  night,  but  there  is 
something  to  sing  about,  even  concerning  that  night  ^  for  there  is  one 
thing  I  am  sure  we  can  sing  about,  let  the  night  be  ever  so  dark,  and 
that  is,  "It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercies  that  we  are  not  consumed,  and  be- 
cause his  compassions  fliil  not."     If  we  can  not  sing  very  loud,  yet  we 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT.  613 

can  sing  a  little  low  tune,  something  like  this — "  He  hath  not  dealt  with 
us  after  our  sins,  nor  rewarded  us  according  to  our  iniquities."  "  O  I" 
says  one,  "  I  do  not  know  where  to  get  my  dinner  from  to-morrow.  I 
am  a  poor  wretch."  So  you  may  be,  my  dear  friend  ;  but  you  are  not 
so  poor  as  you  deserve  to  be.  Do  not  be  mightily  offended  about  that ; 
if  you  are,  you  are  no  child  of  God ;  for  the  child  of  God  acknowledges 
that  he  has  no  right  to  the  least  of  God's  mercies,  but  that  they  come 
through  the  channel  of  grace  alone.  As  long  as  I  am  out  of  hell,  I  have 
no  right  to  grumble  ;  and  if  I  were  in  hell  I  should  have  no  right  to 
complain,  for  I  feel,  when  convinced  of  sin,  that  never  creature  deserved 
to  go  there  more  than  I  do.  "We  have  no  cause  to  murmur ;  we  can 
lift  up  our  hands,  and  say,  "  Night  i  thou  art  dark,  but  thou  mightst 
have  been  darker.  I  am  poor,  but  if  I  could  not  have  been  poorer,  I 
might  liave  been  sick.  I  am  poor  and  sick — well,  I  have  some  friend 
left  ;  my  lot  can  not  be  so  bad,  but  it  might  have  been  worse,"  And 
therefore.  Christian,  you  Avill  always  have  one  thing  to  sing  about — 
"  Lord,  I  thank  thee,  it  is  not  all  darkness !"  Besides,  Christian,  how- 
ever dark  the  night  is,  there  is  always  a  star  or  moon.  There  is  scarce 
ever  a  night  that  we  have,  but  there  are  just  one  or  two  little  lamps 
burning  up  there.  However  dark  it  may  be,  I  think  you  may  find  some 
little  comfort,  some  little  joy,  some  little  mercy  left,  and  some  little 
promise  to  cheer  thy  spirit.  The  stars  are  not  put  out,  are  they? 
Nay,  if  thou  canst  not  see  them,  they  are  there ;  but  methinks  one  or 
two  must  be  shining  on  thee  ;  therefore  give  God  a  song  in  the  night. 
If  thou  hast  only  one  star,  bless  God  for  that  one,  perhaps  he  will  make 
it  two  ;  and  if  thou  hast  only  two  stars,  bless  God  twice  for  the  two 
stars,  and  perhaps  he  will  make  them  four.  Try,  then,  if  thou  canst 
not  find  a  song  in  the  night. 

But,  beloved,  there  is  another  thing  of  which  we  can  sing  yet  more 
sweetly  ;  and  that  is,  we  can  sing  of  tlie  day  that  is  to  come.  *  *  * 
Often  do  I  cheer  myself  with  the  thought  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord. 
We  preach  now,  perhaps,  with  little  success ;  "  the  kingdoms  of  this 
world"  are  not  "  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  his  Christ ;" 
we  send  out  missionaiies  ;  they  are  for  the  most  part  unsuccessful.  We 
are  laboring,  but  we  do  not  see  the  fruit  of  our  labors.  Well,  what 
then  ?  Try  a  little  while  ;  we  shall  not  always  labor  in  vain,  or  spend 
our  strength  for  naught.  A  day  is  coming,  and  now  is,  when  every 
minister  of  Christ  shall  speak  with  unction,  when  all  the  servants  of  God 
shall  preach  witli  power,  and  when  colossal  systems  of  heathenism  shall 
tumble  from  their  pedestals,  and  mighty,  gigantic  delusions  shall  be 
scattered  to  the  winds.  The  shout  shall  be  heard,  "Alleluia  !  Alleluia  ! 
the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reigneth."  For  that  day  do  I  look ;  it  is  to 
the  bright  horizon  of  that  second  coming  that  I  turn  my  eyes.  My 
anxious  expectation  is,  that  the  sweet  Sun  of  righteousness  will  arise 
with  healing  beneath  his  wings,  that  the  oppressed  shall  be  righted, 


614  CHARLES    H.    SPURGEON. 

that  despotisms  shall  be  cut  down,  that  liberty  shall  be  established,  that 
peace  shall  be  made  lasting,  and  that  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  gospel 
of  God  shall  be  extended  throughout  the  known  world.  Christian  !  if 
thou  art  in  a  night,  think  of  the  morrow  ;  cheer  up  thy  heart  with  the 
thought  of  the  coming  of  thy  Lord.     Be  patient,  for 

"  Lol  he  comes  with  clouds  descending." 

Be  patient !  The  husbandman  waits  imtil  he  reaps  his  harvest.  Be 
patient ;  for  you  know  who  has  said,  "  Behold,  I  come  quickly,  and  my 
reward  is  with  me,  to  give  every  man  according  as  his  works  shall  be." 

One  thought  more  upon  that  point.  There  is  another  sweet  to-moriow 
of  which  we  hope  to  sing  in  the  night.  Soon,  beloved,  you  and  I  shall 
lie  on  our  dying  bed,  and  we  shall  want  a  song  in  the  night  then ;  and 
I  do  not  know  whei'e  we  shall  get  it,  if  we  do  not  get  it  from  the  to- 
morrow. Kneeling  by  the  bed  of  an  apparently  dying  saint,  last  night, 
I  said,  "  Well,  sister,  he  has  been  precious  to  you  ;  you  can  rejoice  in  his 
covenant  mercies,  and  hispast  loving-kindnesses."  She  put  out  her  hand, 
and  said,  "  Ah !  sir,  do  not  talk  about  them  now ;  I  want  the  sinner's 
Saviour  as  much  now  as  ever  ;  it  is  not  a  saint's  Saviour  I  want ;  it  is  still 
a  sinner's  Saviour  that  I  am  in  need  of,  for  I  am  a  sinner  stUl."  I  found 
that  I  could  not  comfort  her  with  the  past ;  so  I  reminded  her  of  the 
goldei  streets,  of  the  gates  of  pearl,  of  the  walls  of  jaspei*,  of  the  harps 
of  gold,  of  the  songs  of  bliss  ;  and  then  her  eye  glistened ;  she  said, 
"  Yes,  I  shall  be  there  soon  ;  I  shall  meet  them  by-and-by  ;"  and  then  she 
seemed  so  glad  !  Ah !  believer,  you  may  always  cheer  yourself  with  that 
thought ;  for  if  you  are  ever  so  low  now,  remember  that 

"  A  few  more  rolling  suns,  at  most, 
Will  land  thee  on  fair  Canaan's  coast." 

Thy  head  may  be  crowned  with  thorny  troubles  now,  but  it  shall  wear 
a  starry  crown  directly ;  thy  hand  may  be  tilled  with  cares — it  shall  grasp 
soon,  a  harp  full  of  music.  Thy  garments  may  be  soiled  with  dust  now; 
they  shall  be  white  by-and-by.  Wait  a  little  longer.  Ah !  beloved,  how 
despicable  our  troubles  and  trials  Avill  seem  when  we  look  upon  them ! 
Looking  at  them  here  in  the  prospect,  they  seem  immense ;  but  when 
we  get  to  heaven,  we  shall  then, 

"  "With  transporting  joys,  recount 
The  labors  of  our  feet." 

Our  trials  will  seem  to  us  nothing  at  all.  We  shall  talk  to  one  another 
about  them  in  heaven,  and  find  all  the  more  to  converse  about,  according 
as  we  have  sufiered  more  here  below.  Let  us  go  on,  therefore ;  and  if 
the  night  be  ever  so  dark,  remember  there  is  not  a  night  that  shall 
not  have  a  morning ;  and  that  morning  is  to  come  by-and-by.    When 


SONGS    IN    THE     NIGHT.  615 

sinners  are  lost  in  darkness,  we  shall  lift  up  our  eyes  in  everlasting  light. 
Surely  I  need  not  dwell  longer  on  this  thought.  Theie  is  matter  enough 
for  songs  in  the  night  in  the  past,  the  present,  and  the  future. 

III.  And  now  I  want  to  tell  you,  very  briefly,  what  ake  the  excel- 

LEXCES  OF  SONGS  IN  THE  NIGHT  AHOVE  ALL  OTHEE  SONGS. 

In  the  first  place,  Avhen  you  hear  a  man  singing  a  song  in  the  night — I 
mean  in  the  night  of  trouble — you  may  be  quite  sure  it  is  a  hearty  one. 
Many  of  you  sang  very  prettily  just  now,  didn't  you  ?  I  wonder  whether 
you  would  sing  very  prettily,  if  there  were  a  stake  or  two  in  Sniithfield 
for  all  of  you  who  dared  to  do  it  ?  If  you  sang  under  pain  and  penalty, 
that  would  show  your  heart  to  be  in  your  song.  We  can  all  sing  very ' 
nicely  indeed  when  every  body  else  sings.  It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the 
world  to  open  your  mouth,  and  let  the  words  come  out ;  but  when  the 
devil  puts  his  hand  over  your  mouth,  can  you  sing  then  ?  Can  you  say, 
"  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him  ?"  That  is  hearty  singing  ; 
that  is  real  song  that  springs  up  in  the  night.  The  nightingale  singeth 
most  sweetly  because  she  singeth  in  the  niglit.  AYe  know  a  poet  has  said, 
that  if  she  sang  by  day,  she  might  be  thought  to  sing  no  more  sweetly 
than  the  wren.  It  is  the  stillness  of  the  night  that  makes  her  song  sweet. 
And  so  doth  a  Christian's  song  become  sweet  and  hearty,  because  it  is 
in  the  night. 

Again  :  the  songs  we  sing  in  the  night  will  be  lasting.  Many  songs 
we  hear  our  fellow-creatures  singing  in  the  streets  will  not  do  to  sing  by- 
aud-by;  I  guess  they  will  sing  .a  diflerent  kind  of  tune  soon.  They  can 
sing  now-a-days  any  rollicking,  drinking  songs  ;  but  they  will  not  sing 
them  when  they  come  to  die ;  they  are  not  exactly  the  songs  with  which 
to  cross  Jordan's  billows.  It  will  not  do  to  sing  one  of  those  light  songs 
wheli  death  and  you  are  having  the  last  tug.  It  will  not  do  to  enter 
heaven  singing  one  of  those  unchaste,  unholy  sonnets.  No ;  but  the 
Christian  who  can  sing  in  the  night  will  not  have  to  leave  oif  his 
song ;  he  may  keep  on  singing  it  forever.  He  may  put  his  foot  in  Jor- 
dan's stream,  and  continue  his  melody ;  he  may  wade  through  it,  and 
keep  on  singing  still,  and  land  himself  safe  in  heaven ;  and  when  he  is 
there,  there  need  not  be  a  gap  in  his  strain,  but  in  a  nobler,  sweeter 
strain,  he  may  still*  continue  shiging  his  power  to  save.  There  are  a  great 
many  of  you  that  think  Christian  people  are  a  very  miserable  set,  don't 
you  ?  You  say,  "  Let  me  sing  my  song."  Ay,  but  my  dear  friends,  we 
like  to  sing  a  song  that  will  last ;  we  don't  like  your  songs ;  they  are  all 
froth,  like  bubbles  on  the  breaker,  and  they  will  soon  die  away  and  be 
lost.  Give  me  one  that  will  last.  Give  me  one  that  will  not  melt.  O, 
give  me  not  the  dreamster's  gold  !  lie  hoards  it  up,  and  says,  "  I'm 
rich ;"  and  when  he  waketh,  his  gold  is  gone.  But  give  me  songs  in  the 
night,  for  they  are  songs  I  sing  forever. 

Ajiaiu  :  the  souijs  we  warble  in  the  niuht  are  those  that  show  we  have 


(^IQ  CHARLES    H.    SPURGEOX. 

real  faith  in  God.  Many  men  have  just  enough  faith  to  trust  God  as  far 
as  they  can  see  him,  and  they  always  sing  as  far  as  tliey  can  see  provi- 
dence go  right ;  but  true  faith  can  sing  wlicn  its  possessors  can  not  see. 
It  can  take  hold  of  God  when  they  can  not  discern  him. 

Songs  in  the  night,  too,  prove  that  we  have  tnce  courage.  Many  sing 
by  day  who  are  silent  by  night ;  they  are  afraid  of  thieves  and  robbers ; 
but  the  Christian  who  sings  in  the  night  proves  himself  to  be  a  cou- 
rageous character.  It  is  the  bold  Christian  who  can  sing  God's  sonnets 
m  the  darkness. 

He  who  can  sing  songs  in  the  night,  too,  proves  that  he  has  true  love 
to  Christ.  It  is  not  love  to  Christ  to  praise  him  while  every  body  else 
pi'aises  him ;  to  walk  arm  in  arm  with  him  when  he  has  the  crown  on  his 
head  is  no  great  deed,  I  wot ;  to  walk  with  Christ  in  rags  is  somethmg. 
To  believe  in  Christ  when  he  is  shrouded  in  darkness,  to  stick  hard  and 
fast  by  the  Saviour  when  all  men  speak  ill  of  him  and  forsake  him — that 
is  true  faith.  He  who  singeth  a  song  to  Christ  in  the  night,  singeth  the 
best  song  in  all  the  world ;  for  he  singeth  from  the  lieart. 

IV.  I  am  afraid  of  wearying  you  ;  therefore  I  will  not  dwell  on  the 
excellences  of  night  songs,  but  just,  in  the  last  place,  show  you  their 

USE. 

Well,  beloved,  it  is  very  useful  to  sing  in  the  night  of  our  troubles, 
first,  hdcause  it  toill  cheer  ourselves.  When  you  were  boys  living  in  the 
country,  and  had  some  distance  to  go  alone  at  night,  don't  you  remem- 
ber how  you  whistled  and  sang  to  keep  your  courage  up?  Well,  what 
we  do  in  the  natural  world  we  ought  to  do  in  the  spiritual.  There  is 
nothing  like  singing  to  keep  your  spirits  alive.  When  we  have  been  in 
trouble,  we  have  often  thought  ourselves  to  be  well-nigh  overv\-helmed 
with  difficulty  ;  and  we  have  said,  "  Let  us  have  a  song."  We-  have 
begun  to  sing  ;  and  Martin  Luther  says,  "  The  devil  can  not  bear  sing- 
ing." That  is  about  the  truth ;  he  does  not  like  music.  It  was  so  in 
Saul's  days :  an  evil  spirit  rested  on  Saul ;  but  when  David  played  on  his 
harp,  the  evil  spirit  went  away  from  him.  This  is  usually  the  case  :  if 
Ave  can  begin  to  sing  we  shall  remove  our  fears.  I  like  to  hear  servants 
sometimes  humming  a  tune  at  their  work  ;  I  like  to  hear  a  plowman  in 
the  country  singing  as  he  goes  along  with  his  horses.  Why  not  ?  You 
say  he  has  no  time  to  praise  God  ;  but  he  can  sing  a  song — surely  he  can 
sing  a  Psalm  ;  it  will  take  no  more  time.  Singing  is  the  best  thing  to 
purge  ourselves  of  evil  thoughts.  Keep  your  mouth  full  of  songs,  and 
you  will  often  keep  your  hcait  full  of  praises;  keep  on  singing  as  long  as 
you  can  ;  you  will  find  it  a  good  method  of  driving  away  your  fears. 

Sing  in  the  night,  again,  because  God  loves  to  hear  his  people  sing  in 
the  night.  At  no  time  does  God  love  his  children's  singing  so  well  as 
when  tliey  give  a  serenade  of  praise  under  his  window,  when  he  has  hid- 
den his  face  from  them,  and  will  not  aiipear  to  them  at  all.    They  are  aU 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT,  617 

.n  darkness ;  but  they  come  under  his  Avindow,  and  they  begin  to  sing 
there.  "  Ah  !"  says  God,  "  that  is  true  faith,  that  can  make  them  smg 
praises  when  I  will  not  look  at  them ;  I  know  there  is  some  faith  in  them, 
that  makes  them  lift  up  their  hearts,  even  when  I  seem  to  take  aAvay  all 
my  tender  mercies  and  all  my  compassions."  Sing,  Christian,  for  singing 
pleases  God.  In  heaven,  we  read,  the  angels  are  employed  in  singing  ; 
do  you  be  employed  in  the  same  way ;  for  by  no  better  means  can  ynu 
gratify  the  Almighty  One  of  Israel,  who  stoops  from  his  high  throne  to 
observe  the  poor  creature  of  a  day. 

Sing,  again,  for  another  reason :  because  it  will  cheer  your  companions. 
Kany  of  them  are  in  the  valley  and  in  the  darkness  with  you,  it  will  be 
a  great  help  to  comfort  them.  John  Bunyan  tells  us  that  as  Christian 
was  going  throxigh  the  valley,  he  found  it  a  dreadful  dark  place,  and  ter- 
rible demons  and  gobUns  were  all  about  him,  and  poor  Christian  thought 
he  must  perish  for  certain  ;  but  just  when  his  doubts  were  the  strongest, 
he  heard,  a  sweet  voice  ;  he  listened  to  it,  and  he  heard  a  man  in  front 
of  him  saying,  "  Yea,  when  I  pass  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  I  A\ill  fear  no  evil."  Now,  that  man  did  not  know  who  was  near 
him,  but  he  was  unwittingly  singing  to  cheer  a  man  behind.  Christian, 
when  you  are  in  trouble,  sing  ;  you  do  not  know  who  is  near  you.  Sing  ! 
perhaps  you  will  get  a  good  companion  by  it.  Sing !  perhaps  there  Avill 
be  many  a  heart  cheered  by  your  song.  There  is  some  broken  spirit,  it 
may  be,  that  will  be  bound  up  by  your  sonnets.  Sing!  there  is  some 
poor  distressed  brother,  perhaps,  shut  up  in  the  Castle  of  Despair,  who, 
like  King  Richard,  Avill  hear  yoiir  song  inside  tlie  walls,  and  sing  to  you 
again,  and  you  may  be  the  means  of  getting  him  a  ransom.  Sing,  Christ- 
ian, wherever  you  go  ;  try,  if  you  can,  to  wash  your  face  every  mornhig 
in  a  bath  of  praise.  When  you  go  down  from  your  chamber,  never  go 
to  look  on  man  till  you  have  first  looked  on  your  God ;  and  when  you 
have  looked  on  him,  seek  to  come  down  Avith  a  face  beaming  Avith  joy  ; 
carry  a  smile,  for  you  Avill  cheer  up  many  a  poor  way-Avorn  pilgrim  by  it. 
And  Avhen  thou  lastest,  Christian — Avhen  thou  hast  an  aching  heart — do 
not  appear  to  men  to  fast ;  appear  cheerful  and  happy;  anoint  thy  head, 
and  Avash  thy  face  ;  be  happy  for  thy  brother's  sake ;  it  \\\\\  tend  to 
cheer  him  up,  and  help  him  through  the  valley. 

One  more  reason,  and  I  knoAV  it  Avill  be  a  good  one  for  you :  try  and 
sing  in  the  night.  Christian,  for  that  is  one  of  the  best  arguments  in  all 
tJie  world  in  favor  of  your  religion.  Our  divines,  noAvadays,  spend  a 
great  deal  of  time  in  trying  to  prove  Christianity  against  those  Avho  dis- 
beUeve  it.  I  should  like  to  have  seen  Paul  trying  that !  Elymas  the 
sorcerer  withstood  him :  how  did  our  friend  Paul  treat  him  ?  He  said, 
"0,  full  of  au  subtlety  and  all  mischief,  thou  child  of  the  devil,  thou  en- 
emy of  all  righteousness,  Avilt  thou  not  cease  to  pervert  the  right  ways 
of  the  Lord  ?"  That  is  about  the  politeness  such  men  ought  to  have 
wlio  deny  God's  truth.     We  start  Avith  this  assumption  :  Ave  Avill  prove 


QIQ  CHARLES    H.     SPURGEON. 

that  the  Bible  is  God's  word,  but  we  ai'e  not  going  to  prove  God's  word. 
If  you  do  not  like  to  beHeve  it,  we  will  shake  hands  and  bid  you  good- 
by ;  we  will  not  argue  with  you.  *  *  *  "VVe  may  preach  fifty  thou- 
sand sermons  to  prove  the  gospel,  but  we  shall  not  prove  it  half  so  well 
as  you  will  through  singing  in  the  night.  Keep  a  cheerfid  frame  ;  keep  a 
happy  heart ;  keep  a  contented  spiiit ;  keep  your  eye  up,  and  your  heart 
alott,  and  you  will  prove  Christianity  better  than  all  the  Butlers,  and  all 
the  Avise  men  that  ever  lived.  Give  them  the  analogy  of  a  holy  life,  and 
then  you  will  prove  religion  to  them  ;  give  them  the  evidence  of  inter- 
nal piety,  developed  externally,  and  you  will  give  the  best  possible 
proof  of  Christianity.  Try  and  sing  songs  in  the  night;  for  they  are  so 
rare,  that  if  thou  canst  sing  them,  thou  wilt  honor  thy  God. 

I  have  been  preaching  all  this  while  to  the  children  of  God,  and  now 
there  is  a  sad  turn  that  this  subject  must  take,  just  one  moment  or  so, 
and  then  we  have  done.  There  is  a  night  coming,  in  which  there  will 
be  no  songs  of  joy — a  night  in  which  no  one  Avill  even  attempt  to  lead  a 
chorus.  There  is  a  night  coming,  when  a  song  shall  be  sung,  of  which 
misery  shall  be  the  subject,  set  to  the  music  of  wailing  and  gnashing  of 
teeth ;  there  is  a  night  coming  when  woe,  unutterable  woe,  shall  be  the 
matter  of  an  awful,  terrific  miserere — when  the  orchestra  shall  be  com- 
posed of  damned  men,  and  howling  fiends,  and  yelling  demons ;  and 
mark  you,  I  speak  what  I  do  know,  and  testify  the  Sciiptures.  There  is 
a  night  coming  for  a  poor  soul  within  this  house  to-night ;  and  unless  he 
repent,  it  will  be  a  night  wherein  he  will  have  to  growl  and  howl,  and 
sigh  and  cry,  and  moan  and  groan  forever.  "Who  is  that?"  sayest 
thou.  Thyself,  my  friend,  if  thou  art  godless  and  Christless.  "  What !" 
sayest  thou,  "  am  I  in  danger  of  hell-fire  ?"  In  danger,  my  friend  !  Ay, 
more :  thou  art  damned  already.  So  saith  the  Bible.  Sayest  thou, 
"And  can  you  leave  me  without  telling  me  what  I  must  do  to  be 
saved?  Can  you  believe  that  I  am  in  danger  of  perishing,  and  not 
speak  to  me  ?"  I  trust  not ;  I  hope  I  shall  never  preach  a  sermon  with- 
out speaking  to  the  ungodly,  for  O  !  how  I  love  them.  Swearer,  your 
mouth  is  black  with  oaths  now ;  and  if  you  die,  you  must  go  on  blas- 
pheming throughout  eternity,  and  be  punished  for  it  throughout  eter- 
nity. But  list  to  me,  blasphemer  !  Dost  thou  repent  to-night  ?  Dost 
thou  feel  thyself  to  have  sinned  against  God  ?  Dost  thou  feel  a  desire  to 
be  saved  ?  List  thee,  thou  mayest  be  saved  ;  thou  mayest  be  saved  as 
much  as  any  one  that  is  nowhere.  There  is  another:  she  has  sinned 
against  God  enormously,  and  she  blushes  even  now,  Avhile  I  mention  her 
case.  Dost  thou  repent  of  thy  sin  ?  There  is  hope  for  thee.  Remem- 
ber him  Avho  said,  "  Go,  and  sin  no  inore."  Drunkard  !  but  a  little  Avhile 
ago  thou  wast  reeling  down  the  street,  and  now  thou  rejoutest.  Drunk- 
ard !  there  is  hope  for  thee.  "  Well,"  sayest  thou,  "  what  shall  I  do  to 
be  saved  ?" 

Then  again  let  me  tell  thee  the  old  way  of  salvation :  it  is,  "  Believe 


SONGS    IN    THE    NIGHT.  qiq 

in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  art  saved."  "VVe  can  get  no  further 
than  that,  do  what  we  will ;  this  is  the  sum  and  substance  of  the  gospel. 
BeUeve  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  be  baptized,  and  thou  shalt  be 
saved.  So  saith  the  Scripture.  Dost  thou  ask,  "  What  is  it  to  believe  ?" 
Am  I  to  tell  thee  agaio  ^  I  can  not  tell  thee,  except  that  it  is  to  look  at 
Christ.  Dost  thou  see  that  Saviour  there  ?  He  is  hanging  on  the  cross ; 
there  aie  his  dear  hands,  pierced  with  nails,  nailed  to  a  tree,  as  if  they 
were  waitmg  for  thy  tardy  footsteps,  because  thou  wouldst  not  come. 
Dost  thou  see  his  dear  head  there  ?  It  is  hanging  on  his  breast,  as  if  he 
would  lean  over,  and  kiss  thy  poor  soul.  Dost  thou  see  his  blood,  gush- 
ing from  his  head,  his  hands,  his  feet,  his  side  ?  It  is  running  after  thee, 
because  he  well  knew  that  thou  wouldst  never  run  after  it.  Sinner  !  to 
be  saved,  all  that  thou  hast  to  do  is,  to  look  at  that  Man.  Canst  thou 
do  it  now?  "N.),"  say  est  thou,  "I  do  not  believe  it  will  save  me." 
Ah!  my  poor  friend,  try  it;  and  if  thou  dost  not  succeed,  when  thou 
hast  tried  it,  I  am  a  bondsman  for  my  Lord — here,  take  me,  bind  me, 
and  I  will  suffer  thy  doom  for  thee.  This  I  will  venture  to  say:  if  thou 
castest  t\  yself  on  Christ,  and  he  deserteth  thee,  I  will  be  Avilling  to  go 
naives  with  thee  in  all  thy  misery  and  woe.  For  he  will  never  do  it : 
never,  never,  never ! 

"  No  sinner  was  ever 
Empty  sent  back, 
Who  came  seeking  mercy 
For  Jesus'  sake." 

I  beseech  thee,  therefore,  try  him,  and  thou  shalt  not  try  him  in  vain, 
but  shalt  find  him  "  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  them  that  come  unto 
God  by  him."  Thou  shalt  be  saved  now,  and  saved  forever.  May  God 
give  you  his  blessing ;  and  may  you,  my  dear  brethren  and  sisters,  have 
songs  in  the  night ! 


%\t   §c  att^    Illicit. 


Eu^.  1)7  i-HLRitcliic 


t^i^ 


DISCOURSE    XLIV. 

THOlNiAS      GUTHRIE,      D.D. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  that  Dr.  Guthrie  is  the  greatest  hving  preacher 
in  Scotland.  And  yet,  until  recently,  he  was  comparatively  unknown  in  America, 
At  the  present  time,  however,  it  is  quite  the  reverse  ;  and  to  his  many  admirers,  the 
following  facts,  which  are  authentic,  will  be  of  interest : 

Thomas  Guthrie  was  born  in  Brechin,  Scotland,  in  the  year  1803,  the  son  of  an 
influential  merchant  and  banker.  Both  his  parents  were  of  great  piety  and  worth. 
He  studied  for  the  Church  of  Scotland  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh  and  after 
having  been  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Presbytery  of  Brechin^  proceeded  to  Paris, 
where  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  medicine,  with  the  view  of  being  able  to  assist 
the  poor  medically,  when  engaged  in  his  pastor'ial  duties.  On  his  return  to  Scotland 
he  went  for  a  time  into  his  father's  banldng-house,  and  in  1830  was  ordained  minister 
of  the  parish  of  Arbirlot,  in  his  native  county.  He  was  afterward  translated  to  the 
collegiate  church  of  Old  Greyfriars,  Edinburgh  of  which  Robertson,  the  historian, 
and  Dr.  John  Erskine,  were  formerly  ministers ;  and  in  1840  to  St.  John's,  a  new 
church  and  parish  in  that  city,  erected  chiefly  in  consequence  of  his  popularity.  He 
took  a  prominent  part  in  the  non-intrusion  controversy,  as  it  was  called  ;  the  object 
of  which  was  that  ministers  should  not  be  intruded  on  parishes  unwilling  to  receive 
them,  and  other  ecclesiastical  questions,  which  ended  in  the  disruption  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church  of  Scotland  in  1843,  and  the  institution  of  the  Free  Church  of  that 
country.  He  was  one  of  the  four  leading  men  of  that  important  movement,  the 
other  thi'ce  being  Drs.  Chalmers,  Cunningham,  and  Candlish.  In  1847,  his  fervent 
and  heart-stirring  appeals  to  the  benevolent,  on  behalf  of  the  destitute  and  homeless 
children  of  the  Scottish  capital,  led  to  the  establishment  of  the  EdinburgAoriginal 
Ragged  or  Industrial  School,  which  has  been  productive  of  incalculable  benefit  to 
the  poorer  classes  of  that  city. 

Dr.  Guthrie  is  now  minister  of  St.  John's  Free  Church,  Edinburg^t  numbering 
about  one  thousand  communicants  ;  and  has  for  his  colleague  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hanna, 
the  son-in-law  and  biographer  of  Dr.  Chalmers.  His  popularity  is  very  great,  the 
poor,  to  a  great  extent,  flocking  to  his  ministry,  and  the  congregations  often  r/^aching 
fifteen  hundred  hearers.  A  frequent  hearer  describes  his  appearance  on  entermg  the 
pulpit  as  calm  and  dignified.  On  the  street,  careless  in  his  personal  appearance,  and 
apparently  uninteresting,  the  dull  Took  is  now  gone;  the  dark  eye  is  gleaming, 
speakingly,  from  under  an  ample  forehead,  and  the  countenance  kindles  with  anima- 
tion and  earnest  affection.  Though  possessing  a  voice  of  varied  modulations  there 
is  nothing  in  his  gesture,  nothing  in  his  speech,  at  all  attractive.  His  hand  at  first 
often  grasps  the  collar  of  his  coat  j  he  moves  slowly  backward  and  forward,  and 


624  THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 

leans  at  times  over  the  pulpit,  speaking  in  a  mellow  north-country  accent,  with  great 
ease  and  fluency,  but  in  the  plainest  and  most  idiomatic  Saxon.  In  the  matter  the 
attraction  lies ;  his  preaching  resembhng  more  a  conversation  than  a  sermon,  each 
hearer  feeling  as  if  it  were  directed  to  him. 

The  style  of  Dr.  Guthrie  is  quite  peculiar.  Judging  by  the  published  speci- 
mens, we  should  say  he  must  be  an  ardent  lover  of  nature,  must  possess  a  most 
picturesque  imagination,  a  deep-toned  sensibility,  a  heart  overflowing  with  warmth 
and  congeniality,  and  a  mind  at  once  vigorous  and  well-trained.  There  can  be  no 
such  thing  as  tameness  in  liis  preaching.  His  "  Gospel  in  Ezekiel" — consisting  of 
twenty  sermons  on  texts  from  this  old  prophet,  lately  published  and  now  widely 
circulated  in  this  country — breathes  wiih  life  and  animation  from  beginning  to  end. 
Open  sometimes  to  criticism  in  matters  of  interpretation,  and  with  too  little  contact, 
or  evident  connection  between  the  several  parts  of  the  discourse,  each  sermon  is 
nevertheless  a  thing  of  exquisite  beauty.  You  seem  to  be  walking  in  a  picture 
gallery ;  or  rather  in  a  garden  of  sweets,  with  meandering  streams;  and  every  form  of 
animate  and  inanimate  life  surrounding  you.  Now  you  weep  under  the  depths  of 
the  preacher's  pathos ;  now  you  are  startled  with  some  dazzhng  luminous  sentence 
rolling  out  suddenly  before  you ;  now  you  are  captivated  with  the  freshness  and 
originality  of  some  thought,  the  aptness  and  vividness  of  some  illustrations,  or  the 
ease  and  effectiveness  with  which  some  error  is  exploded,  or  some  glorious  doctrine 
unfolded :  but  you  always  arise  from  the  perusal  feeling  that  you  have  been  led 
beside  the  waters  of  salvation,  amid  the  flowers  and  fruits  of  paradise,  and  now 
return 'both  delighted  and  enriched.  It  maybe  added  that  the  striking  portrait 
accompanying  this  volume,  is  copied  from  a  photograph  just  taken  in  Edinburg,  and 
forwarded  expressly  for  this  purpose. 


THE    NEW    HEART. 


"  A  new  heart  also  will  I  give  you,  and  a  new  spirit  will  I  put  wthin  you ;  and  I  will 
take  away  the  stony  heart  out  of  your  flesh,  and  I  wUI  give  you  a  heart  of  flesh." — 
Ezekiel,  xxxvi.  26. 

As  in  a  machine  where  the  parts  all  fit  each  other,  and  bathed  in 
oil  move  without  din  or  discord,  the  most  perfect  harmony  reigns 
throughout  the  kingdom  of  grace.  Jesus  Christ  is  the  "  wisdom,"  as 
well  as  the  "power"  of  God  ;  nor  in  this  kingdom  is  any  thing  found 
corresponding  to  the  anomalies  and  incongruities  of  the  world  lying 
without.  There  we  sometimes  see  a  high  station  disgraced  by  a  man  of 
low  habits ;  while  others  are  doomed  to  an  inferior  condition,  who 
would  shine  like  gilded  ornaments  on  the  very  pinnacles  of  society. 
That  beautitul  congruity  in  Christ's  kingdom  is  secured  by  those  who 
are  the  objects  of  saving  mercy  being  so  renewed  and  sanctified  that 
their  nature  is  in  harmony  with  their  position,  and  the  man  within  cor- 
responds to  all  without. 

Observe  how  this  property  of  neio  runs  through  the  whole  economy 


THE     NEW    HEART.  625 

of  grace.  Wlien  Mercy  first  rose  upon  this  world,  an  attribute  of 
divinity  appeared  wliich  was  new  to  the  eyes  of  men  and  angels.  Again, 
the  Saviour  was  boi-n  of  a  virgin  ;  and  he  who  came  forth  from  a  womb 
Avhere  no  child  had  been  previously  conceived,  was  sepulcliered  in  a  tomb 
where  no  man  had  been  previously  interred.  The  Infant  had  a  new 
birth-place,  the  Crucified  had  a  new  burial-place.  Again,  Jesus  is  the 
mediator  of  a  new  covenant,  the  author  of  a  new  testament,  the  founder 
of  a  new  faith.  Again,  the  redeemed  receive  a  new  name  ;  they  sing 
a  new  song ;  their  home  is  not  to  be  in  the  Old,  but  in  the  New  Jeru- 
salem, where  they  shall  dwell  on  a  new  earth,  and  walk  in  glory  beneath 
a  new  heaven.  Now,  it  were  surely  strange,  when  all  things  else  are 
new,  if  they  themselves  were  not  to  partake  of  this  general  renovation. 
Nor  strange  only,  for  such  a  change  is  indispensable.  A  new  name  with- 
out a  new  nature  were  an  imposture.  It  were  not  more  an  untruth  to 
call  a  lion  a  lamb,  or  the  rapacious  A^ulture  by  the  name  of  the  gentle 
dove,  than  to  give  the  title  of  the  sons  of  God  to  the  venomous  seed  of 
the  Serpent. 

Then,  again,  unless  man  received  a  new  nature,  how  could  he  sing  the 
new  song?  The  raven,  perched  on  the  rock,  where  she  whets  her 
bloody  beak,  and  impatiently  watches  the  dying  struggles  of  some  un- 
happy lamb,  can  not  tune  her  croaking  voice  to  the  rich,  mellow  music 
of  a  thrush  ;  and,  since  it  is  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  that  the 
m(  uth  speaketh,  how  could  a  sinner  take  up  the  strain  and  sing  the  song 
of  saints  ?  Besides,  unless  a  man  were  a  new  creature,  he  were  out  of 
jilace  in  the  new  creation.  In  circumstances  neither  adapted  to  his 
nature,  nor  fitted  to  minister  to  his  happiness,  a  sinner  in  heaven  would 
find  himself  as  much  out  of  his  element  as  a  finny  inhabitant  of  tlie 
deep,  or  a  sightless  burro wer  in  tlie  soil,  beside  an  eagle,  soaring  in  the 
sky,  or  surveying  her  wide  domain  from  the  mountain  crag. 

In  the  works  of  God  we  see  nothing  more  beautiful  than  the  diA^ne 
skill  Avith  which  he  suits  his  creatures  to  their  condition.  He  gives 
wings  to  birds,  fins  to  fishes,  sails  to  the  thistle-seed,  a  lamp  to  light  the 
glow-worm,  great  roots  to  moor  the  cedar,  and  to  the  asjiiring  ivy  her 
thousand  hands  to  climb  tlie  wall.  Nor  is  the  -VAnsdom  so  conspicuous  in 
nature,  less  remarkable  and  adoi-ablo  in  the  kingdom  of  grace.  He  forms 
a  holy  people  for  a  holy  heaven — fits  heaven  for  them,  and  them  for 
heaven.  And  calling  up  his  Son  to  prepare  the  mansions  for  their  ten- 
ants, and  sending  down  his  Spirit  to  prepare  the  tenants  for  their  man- 
sions, lie  thus  establishes  a  perfect  harmony  between  the  new  creature 
and  the  new  creation.  ^ 

You  can  not  have  two  hearts  beating  in  the  same  bosom,  else  you 
would  be,  not  a  man,  but  a  monster.  Therefore,  the  very  first  thing  to 
be  done,  in  order  to  make  things  new,  is  just  to  take  that  which  is  old 
out  of  the  way.  And  the  taking  away  of  the  old  heart  is,  after  all,  but_ 
a  pre^xiratory  j^rocess.     It  is  a  means,  but  not  the  end.     For — strange 

40 


626  THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 

as  it  may  at  first  sound — he  is  not  religious  who  is  without  sin.  A  dead 
man  is  without  sin  ;  and  he  is  sinless,  who  lies  buried  in  dreamless  slum- 
ber, so  long  as  his  eyes  are  sealed.  Now,  God  requires  more  than  a 
negative  religion.  Piety,  like  fire,  light,  electricity,  magnetism,  is  an 
active,  not  a  passive  element ;  it  has  a  positive,  not  merely  a  negative 
existence.  For,  how  is  pure  and  undefiled  religion  defined  ?  "  Pure 
religion  and  undefiled  is  to  visit  the  fatherless  and  widows  in  their 
affliction."  And  on  whom  does  Jesus  pronounce  his  beatitude  ?  "  If 
ye  know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them."  And  what  is  the 
sum  of  practical  piety — the  most  portable  form  in  M'hich  you  can  put  an 
answer  to  Saul's  question,  "  Lord,  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  to  do  ?" 
What  but  this,  "  Depart  from  evil,  and  do  good."  Therefore,  wbile 
God  promises  to  take  the  stony  heart  out  of  our  flesh,  he  promises 
more.  In  taking  away  one  heart,  he  engages  to  supply  us  with  another ; 
and  to  this  further  change  and  onward  stage  in  the  process  of  redemp- 
tion, I  now  proceed  to  turn  your  attention  :  and,  by  way  of  general  ob- 
servation, I  remark — 

I.  Our  affections  are  engaged  in  religion. 

An  oak — not  as  it  stands  choked  up  in  the  crowded  wood,  with  room 
neither  to  spread  nor  breathe,  but  as  it  stands  in  the  open  field,  swell- 
ing out  below,  where  it  anchors  its  roots  in  the  ground,  and  swelling  out 
above,  Avhere  it  stretches  its  arms  into  the  air — presents  us  with  the  most 
perfect  form  of  firmness,  self-support,  stout  and  sturdy  independence. 
So  perfectly  formed,  indeed,  is  the  monarch  of  the  forest  to  stand  alone, 
and  fight  its  own  battles  with  the  elements,  that  the  architect  of  the 
Bell  Rock  Lighthouse  is  said  to  have  borrowed  his  idea  of  its  form  from 
God  in  nature,  and  that,  copying  the  work  of  a  Divine  Architect,  he 
took  the  trunk  of  the  oak  as  the  model  of  a  building  which  was  to  stand 
the  blast  of  the  storm,  and  the  swell  of  winter  seas. 

In  striking  contrast  with  this  tree,  there  are  plants — some  of  them  of 
the  richest  perfume  and  fairest  beauty — such  as  the  passion-flower,  the 
ivy,  the  clematis,  and  the  woodbine,  which  can  not  stand  alone.  They 
have  neither  pith  nor  fiber  to  maintain  themselves  erect. 

Yet  these  are  not  doomed  to  the  base  fate  of  being  trodden  in  the 
dust  by  the  hoof  of  every  passing  beast,  and  have  their  beauty  soiled 
in  the  mire.  Types  of  one  whom  God  has  called  by  his  grace,  and 
beautified  with  salvation,  who  is  strong  in  weakness,  and  rises  to  the 
highest  honors  of  heaven,  these  plants  may  overtop  the  tallest  oak,  and, 
holding  on  by  the  everlasting  rocks,  they  have  laughed  at  the  storm 
which  laid  his  proud  head  in  the  dust.  This  strength  they  have,  and 
these  honors  they  •s\dn,  by  help  of  the  tendrils,  the  arms,  those  instru- 
ments of  attachment  with  which  God  has  kindly  furnished  them.  These 
plants  are  formed  to  attach  themselves  to  other  objects;  it  is  their  na- 
ture to  do  so.  If  they  get  hold  of  one  noble  and  lofty,  they  rise  to  the 
height  of  Its  nobility;  if  of  a  mean  one — some  rotten  stake  or  shattered 


THE    NEW    HEART.  627 

V^'all — they  embrace  the  ruin,  and,  like  a  true  friend,  share  its  fate  ;  and 
we  have  seen,  when  they  had  no  other  object  on  which  to  fix  them- 
selves, how — like  a  selfish  man,  who  is  the  object  of  his  own  afl:ections, 
and  has  a  heart  no  bigger  than  his  coffin,  just  large  enough  to  hold  him- 
self—they would  embrace  themselves,  and  lie  basely  on  the  ground 
locked  in  forced  embarrassment  in  their  own  arms. 

It  is  with  man  as  with  these.  What  their  tendrils  are  to  them,  our 
affections  are  to  us.  Ambition  aims  at  independence  ;  and  men  flmcy, 
that  when  they  have  accumulated  such  or  such  a  fortune,  obtained  such 
or  such  a  place,  arrived  at  such  or  such  an  age,  they  shall  be  independ- 
ent. Independent !  what  folly!  man  was  never  made  to  be  self-support- 
ing, and  self-satisfying.  Even  when  his  home  was  Eden,  and  he  enjoyed 
the  full  favors  of  a  benignant  God,  the  Lord  said — "  It  is  not  good  for 
man  to  be  alone." 

We  are  constituted  with  affections,  of  which  we  can  no  more  divest 
ourselves  than  of  our  skin.  Be  the  object  Avhich  we  love  noble  or  base, 
good  or  bad,  generous  or  selfish,  holy  or  sinful,  belonging  to  earth  or  to 
heaven,  some  object  we  must  love.  It  were  as  easy  for  a  man  to  live 
without  breathing,  as  to  live  without  loving.  It  is  not  more  natural  for 
fire  to  burn,  or  light  to  shine,  than  for  man  to  love.  And  the  command- 
ment, "  Love  not  the  world,  neither  the  things  that  are  in  the  world," 
had  been  utterly  impracticable,  and  impossible,  save  in  conjunction  with 
that  other  commandment,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  heart,  and  soul,  and  mind."  It  is  with  man's  soul  as  with  this  plant 
which  is  creeping  on  the  earth  ;  to  upbraid  it  for  its  baseness,  to  reproach 
it  for  the  mean  objects  around  which  its  tendrils  are  entwined,  will  never 
make  it  stand  erect ;  you  can  not  raise  it  unless  you  present  some  lofty 
object  to  which  it  may  cling.  It  is  with  our  hearts  as  with  vessels  ;  you 
can  not  empty  them  of  one  element  without  admitting  or  substituting 
another  in  its  place.  And  just  as  I  can  empty  a  vessel  filled  with  air  or 
with  oil  by  pouring  water  into  it,  because  water  is  the  heavier  fluid ;  or 
as  I  can  empty  a  vessel  of  water  by  j^ouring  quicksilver  into  it,  because 
the  specific  gravity  of  mercury  is  greatly  in  excess  of  that  of  water,  so 
the  only  way  by  which  you  can  empty  my  lieart  of  the  world,  and  the 
love  of  the  world,  is  by  filling  it  with  the  love  of  God.  This  is  the  di- 
s'ine  process  and  science  of  the  gospel.  The  gospel  is  accommodated  to 
our  nature  ;  its  light  is  adapted  to  our  darkness  ;  its  mercy  to  our  m.is- 
^ry ;  its  pardon  to  our  guilt;  its  sanctification  to  our  impurity;  its  com- 
forts to  our  griefs ;  and  in  substituting  the  love  of  Christ  for  the  love 
of  sin,  in  giving  us  an  object  to  love,  it  meets  our  constitution,  and  sat- 
isfies the  strongest  cravings  of  our  nature.  It  engages  our  afiections, 
Qud,  in  taking  away  an  old  heart,  supplies  its  place  with  a  new  one  and 
ft  better. 

II.  Consider  now  the  new  heart — "  A  new  heart  also  will  I  give  you." 

We  are  not  to  look  for  evidence  of  the  new  heart  in  the  natural  affec- 


628  THOMAS     GUTHRIE. 

tions.  Religion  does  not  bestow  these.  We  are  born  with  them.  We 
have  some  of  them  in  common  with  the  brutes  that  perish  ;  and  they 
may  be  found  flourishing  in  all  their  beauty  in  those  who  are  strangers 
to  the  love  of  God.  To  them,  as  to  all  things  else,  indeed,  wlaieh  are 
his  gifts,  sin  is  antagonistic  and  injurious.  Let  sin  ripen,  so  as  to  have 
"  its  perfect  work,"  and  it  acts  life  a  cancer  on  man's  best  affections.  It 
first  mdurates,  then  deadens,  and  at  length  destroys.  Shmers  are  essen- 
tially selfish  ;  and — as  we  see  exemplified  every  day — the  more  men 
grow  in  sin,  they  grow  the  more  heartless,  and  hesitate  less  to  sacrifice 
the  tenderest  feelings  and  best  interests  of  others  to  their  own  base 
and  brutal  gratifications.  There  is  a  jiicture  in  the  book  of  Romans, 
pamted  by  the  hand  of  a  master,  which  is  more  appalling  and  afiecting 
than  any  which  Roman  artists  have  hung  on  the  walls  of  Rome.  Here 
it  is,  a  full-length  portrait  of  sinners  drawn  by  the  hand  of  Paul,  in  these 
vivid  and  terrible  colors  : — "  God  gave  them  over  to  a  reprobate  mind, 
to  do  those  things  which  are  not  convenient,  being  filled  with  all  un- 
righteousness, fornication,  wickedness,  covetousness,  maliciousness ;  full 
of  envy,  murder,  debate,  deceit,  malignity;  whisperers,  backbiters, 
haters  of  God,  despiteful,  proud,  boasters  ;  inventors  of  evil  things,  dis- 
obedient to  parents,  without  understanding,  covenant-breakers,  without 
natural  aflection,  implacable,  unmerciful."  What  a  dark  and  dreadful 
picture  of  humanity !  Behold  the  monster  into  which  sin,  when  fully 
developed,  turns  the  sweetest  child  !  What  an  abominable  thing  is  sin ! 
Like  God,  may  we  hate  it  with  a  perfect  hatred  ! 

Observe,  that  although  the  state  of  the  natural  afiections  does  not  fur- 
nish any  certain  evidence  of  conversion,  it  is  the  glory  of  piety  that 
these  are  strengthened,  elevated,  sanctified  by  the  change.  The  lover 
of  God  will  be  the  kindest,  best,  wisest  lover  of  his  fellow-creatures. 
The  heart  that  has  room  in  it  for  God,  grows  so  lai-ge,  that  it  finds  room 
for  all  God's  train,  for  all  that  he  loves,  and  for  all  that  he  has  made  ;  so 
that  the  church,  with  all  its  denominations  of  true  Christians,  the  world, 
■with  all  its  perishing  sinners,  nay — all  the  worlds  which  he  has  created, 
find  orbit-room  to  move,  as  in  an  expansive  universe,  within  the  capa- 
cious enlargement  of  a  believer's  heart.  For  while  the  love  of  sin  acts 
as  an  astringent — contracting  the  dimensions  of  the  natural  heart,  shut- 
ting and  shriveling  it  up — the  love  of  God  expands  and  enlarges  its  ca- 
pacity. Piety  quickens  the  pulse  of  love,  warais  and  strengthens  our 
heart,  and  sends  forth  fuller  streams  of  natural  aflection  toward  all  that 
have  a  claim  on  us,  just  as  a  strong  and  healthy  heart  sends  tides  of 
blood  along  the  elastic  arteries  to  every  extremity  of  the  body. 

This  newheai't,  however,  mainly  consists  in  a  change  of  the  aflections 
as  they  regard  spiritual  objects.  Without  again  traveling  over  ground 
which  we  have  already  surveyed,  just  look  at  the  heart  and  feelings  of 
an  unconverted  man.  His  mind  being  carnal,  is  enmity  or  hatred 
against  God.     This  may  be  latent — not  at  first  sight  apparent,  nor  sus- 


THE    NEW    HEART.  629 

pected — ^but  how  soon  does  it  ai^peai-  when  put  to  the  proof!  Fairly 
tried,  it  comes  out  Uke  those  unseen  elements,  which  chemical  tests 
reveal.  Let  God,  for  instance,  by  his  providence  or  laws,  thwart  the 
M'ishes  or  cross  the  propensities  of  our  unrenewed  nature — let  there  be 
a  collision  between  his  will  and  ours — and  the  latent  enmity  flashes  out 
like  latent  fire  Avhen  the  cold  black  flint  is  struck  with  steel. 

The  apostle  pronounces  men  to  be  by  nature  lovers  of  pleasure  more 
than  lovers  of  God  ;  and  is  it  not  a  fact  that  the  services  of  religion  are 
so  contrary  to  all  our  natural  tastes,  that  we  are  prone  to  say  of  them, 
as  of  that  day  which  brings  down  heaven  to  earth — "  It  is  a  weai-iness  ; 
when  will  it  be  over  ?"  The  affections  of  the  natural  man  are  like  the 
branches  of  what  are  called  weeping  trees — they  droop  to  the  earth,  and 
sweep  the  ground  ;  harmless  or  deleterious,  they  are  all  directed  earth- 
ward. This  world  is  his  god ;  his  heaven  is  on  earth  ;  the  paradise  he 
seeks  is  hei-e  ;  his  ten  commandments  are  the  opinions  of  men ;  his  sins 
are  his  pleasures ;  his  prayers  are  a  task ;  his  sabbaths  are  his  longest, 
weariest  days ;  and,  altiiough  no  sheeted  ghosts  rise  at  midnight  and 
walk  the  church-yard  to  scare  him,  he  has,  in  thoughts  of  God,  of  judg- 
ment, of  eternity,  specters  that  haunt  him,  and  to  escape  from  which  he 
Avill  fly  into  the  arms  of  sin. 

Now,  if  you  have  received  a  new  heart,  this  state  is  past,  or  is  pass- 
ing. Your  affections  are  not  dried  or  frozen  up ;  they  are  as  warm,  or 
rather  warmer  than  ever — still  flowing,  only  flowing  toward  diftercnt 
objects,  and  in  a  diflereut  channeL  In  obedience  to  a  divine  impulse, 
their  course  is  not  only  in  a  diflerent,  but  in  a  contrary  direction  ;  for 
the  grace  of  God  works  such  a  complete  change  of  feeling,  that  what 
was  once  hated  you  now  love,  and  what  was  once  loved  you  now  loathe; 
you  fly  from  what  once  you  courted,  and  pursue  what  you  once  shunned. 

For  example.  Did  you  not  once,  like  Adam  in  the  garden,  hide 
}'ourself  from  God  ?  Like  Jacob,  when  about  to  encounter  an  angry 
brother,  did  you  not  once  tremble  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  God  ? 
How  did  you  fret  under  the  yoke  of  his  law  ?  In  those  who  bore  his 
image,  how  did  you  revile,  and  shun,  and  hate  him  ?  You  could  not 
banish  him  from  the  universe,  but  how  did  you  try  to  banish  the  tliought 
of  him  from  your  thoughts,  and  so  put  him  and  keep  him  out  of  your 
mind,  tliat  it  might  be  that  black,  cold,  empty,  dark,  dead,  atheistic 
spot  of  this  creation,  where  God  should  not  be  ?  Believers  !  Oh  !  what 
a  blessed  revolution  has  grace  wrought !  Praise  ye  tlie  Lord.  Although 
our  attaiimicuts  come  far  short  of  David's,  and  the  love  of  our  bosoms 
may  burn  with  a  dimmer  and  feebler  flame,  and  we  should  therefore 
perhaps  pitch  the  expression  of  our  feelings  on  a  lower  key,  let  the 
psalmist  exj)ress  for  us  tlie  language  of  a  renewed  heart — "  Oh  how  love 
I  thy  law  !  it  is  my  meditation  all  the  day.  Thy  testimonies  are  better 
to  me  than  thousands  of  gold  and  silver.  Like  as  the  hart  panteth  after 
the  water-brooks,  so  panteth  my  soul  after  thee,  O  God.     My  soul 


630  THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 

thirstetli  for  God,  for  the  living  God,  When  shall  I  come  and  appear 
before  God.  One  thing  have  I  desired  of  the  Lord,  that  will  I  seek 
after,  that  I  may  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Loi'd  all  the  days  of  my  life. 
I  love  the  Lord  because  he  hath  heard  my  prayer  and  the  voice  of  my 
suppUcation.  Bless  the  Lord,  ye  his  angels,  that  excel  in  strength. 
Bless  the  Lord,  all  ye  his  hosts.  Bless  the  Lord,  all  his  works.  Bless 
the  Lord,  O  my  soul.  Let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord. 
Praise  ye  the  Lord." 

III.  In  conversion  God  gives  a  new  spirit. 

Conversion  does  not  bestow  new  faculties.  It  does  not  turn  a  weak 
man  into  a  philosoiihei-.  Yet,  along  with  our  affections,  the  temper,  the 
will,  the  judgment  partake  of  this  great  and  holy  change.  Thus,  while 
the  heart  ceases  to  be  dead,  the  head,  illuminated  by  a  light  within 
ceases  to  be  dark ;  the  understanding  is  enlightened ;  the  will  is  re- 
newed ;  and  our  whole  temper  is  sweetened  and  sanctified  by  the  Spirit 
of  God.     To  consider  these  in  their  order,  I  remark — 

IBy  this  change  the  understanding  and  judgment  are  enlightened.  Sin 
is  the  greatest  folly,  and  the  sinner  the  greatest  fool  in  the  world.  Tliere 
is  no  such  madness  in  the  most  fitful  lunacy.  Tliink  of  a  man  risking 
eternity  and  his  everlasting  happiness  on  the  uncertain  chance  of  sur- 
viving another  year  !  Think  of  a  man  purchasing  a  momentary  pleasure 
at  the  cost  of  endless  pain  !  Think  of  a  dying  man  living  as  if  he  were 
never  to  die !  Is  there  a  convert  to  God  who  looks  back  upon  his  uncon- 
verted state,  and  does  not  say  with  David,  "  Lord,  I  was  as  a  beast  be- 
foi-e  thee  ?" 

Now  conversion  not  only  restores  God  to  the  heart,  but  reason  also 
to  her  throne.  Time  and  eternity  are  now  seen  in  their  just  proper" 
tions — in  their  right  relative  dimensions ;  the  one  in  its  httleness,  and 
the  other  in  its  greatness.  When  the  light  of  heaven  rises  on  the  soul, 
what  grand  discoveries  does  she  make — of  the  exceeding  evil  of  sin,  of 
the  holiness  of  the  divine  law,  of  the  infinite  purity  of  divine  justice,  of 
the  grace  and  greatness  of  divine  love.  On  Sinai's  summit  and  on  Cal- 
vary's cross,  what  new,  sublime,  affecting  scenes  open  on  her  astonished 
eyes !  She  now,  as  by  one  convulsive  bound,  leaps  to  the  conclusion 
that  salvation  is  the  one  thing  needful,  and  that  if  a  man  a\  ill  give  all  he 
hath  for  the  life  that  now  is,  much  more  should  he  part  with  all  for  the 
life  to  come.  Tlie  Saviour  and  Satan,  the  soul  and  body,  holiness  and 
sin,  have  competing  claims.  Between  these  reason  now  holds  the  bal- 
ance even,  and  man  finds,  in  the  visit  of  converting  grace,  what  the 
demoniac  found  in  Jesus'  advent.  The  man  whose  dwelling  was  among 
the  tombs,  Avhom  no  chains  could  bind,  is  seated  at  the  feet  of  Jesus, 
"  clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind.'''' 

IBy  this  change  the  loill  is  renewed.  Bad  men  are  worse,  and  good 
men  are  better  than  they  appear.  In  conversion  the  will  is  so  changed 
and  sanctified,  that  although  a  pious  man  is  in  some  respects  less,  in  othei 


THE    NEW    HEART.  631 

respects  he  is  more  holy  than  the  world  gives  him  credit  for.  'The 
attainments  of  a  believer  are  always  beneath  his  aims  ;  his  desires  are 
nobler  than  his  deeds  ;  his  wishes  are  holier  than  his  works.  Give  other 
men  their  will — full  swing  to  their  passions — and  they  would  be  worse 
than  they  are  ;  give  that  to  him,  and  he  would  be  better  than  he  is. 
And  if  you  have  experienced  the  gracious  change,  it  will  be  your  daily 
grief  that  you  ai-e  not  what  you  not'only  know  you  should  be,  but  what 
you  wish  to  be.  To  be  complaining  with  Paul,  "  When  I  would  do 
good,  evil  is  present  with  me  ;  that  which  I  would  I  do  not,  and  what  I 
would  not,  that  I  do,"  is  one  of  the  best  evidences  of  a  gracious,  saving 
change. 

Children  of  God  !  let  not  your  souls  be  cast  down.  This  struggle  be- 
tween the  new  will  and  the  old  man — painful  and  prolonged  although  it 
be — proves  beyond  all  doubt  the  advent  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Until  the 
Saviour  appeared  there  was  no  sword  drawn,  nor  blood  shed  in  Bethle- 
hem, nor  murderous  decree  issued  against  the  innocents — they  slept 
safely  in  their  mothers'  bosoms,  Herod  enjoyed  his  security  and  pleas- 
ure, and  Rachel  rose  not  from  her  grave  to  weep  for  her  children  becaixse 
they  were  not.  Christ's  coming  rouses  all  the  devil  in  the  soul.  The 
fruits  of  holy  peace  are  reaped  v^ath  swords  on  the  fields  of  wai- ;  and 
this  struggle  within  your  breast  proves  that  grace,  even  its  infancy  a 
cradled  Saviour,  ig  engaged  in  strangling  the  old  Serpent.  When  the 
shadow  of  calamity  falls  on  many  homes,  and  the  tidings  of  victory 
come  with  sad  news  to  many  a  family,  and  the  brave  are  lymg  thick  in 
the  deadly  breach,  men  comfort  us  by  saying,  that  there  are  things  worse 
than  war.  That  is  emphatically  true  of  this  holy  war.  Rejoice  that 
the  peace  of  death  is  gone. 

By  coni'ersion  the  temper  and  disposition  are  changed  and  sanctijied. 
Christians  are  occasionally  to  be  found  with  a  tone  of  mind  and  a  temper 
as  little  calculated  to  recommend  their  faith  as  to  promote  their  happi- 
ness. I  believe  that  there  are  cases  in  which  this  is  due  to  a  deranged 
condition  of  the  nervous  system,  or  the  presence  of  disease  in  some 
other  vital  organ.  These  unhappy  persons  are  more  deserving  of  our 
pity  than  our  censure.  This  is  not  only  the  judgment  of  Christian 
charity,  but  of  sound  philosophy,  and  is  a  conclusion  to  which  we  are 
conducted  in  studying  the  union  between  mind  and  body,  and  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  act  and  re-act  upon  each  other.  So  long  as  grace 
dwells  in  a  "  vile  body,"  which  is  the  seat  of  frequent  disorder  and  many 
diseases — these  infirmities  of  tem})er  admit  no  moi'e,  perhaps,  of  being 
entirely  removed,  than  a  defect  of  speech,  or  a  j^hysical  deformity.  The 
good  temper  for  which  some  take  credit,  may  be  the  result  of  good 
health  and  a  well-developed  frame — a  physical  more  than  a  moral  vir- 
tue ;  and  an  ill  temper,  springing  from  bad  health,  or  an  imperfect 
organization,  may  be  a  physical  rather  than  a  moral  defect — giving  its 
victim  a  claim  on  our  charity  and  forbearance.     But,  admitting  this 


632  THOMAS     GUTHRIE. 

apology  for  the  unhappy  tone  and  temper  of  some  .ious  men,  the  trne 
Christian  will  bitterly  bewail  his  defect,  and,  regrstting  his  infirmity 
more  than  others  do  a  deformity,  he  will  carefully  guard  and  earnestly 
pray  against  it.  Considering  it  as  a  thorn  in  his  flesh,  a  messenger  of 
Satan  sent  to  bufl:et  him,  it  will  often  send  him  to  his  knees  in  j)rayer  to 
God,  that  the  grace  which  conquers  nature  may  be.  made  "  sufficient  for 
him." 

Those,  however,  who  have  no  such  plea  to  urge  in  palliation  of  a  sus- 
picious, sour,  discontented,  irritable  tem2:)erament,  have  good  ground  to 
suspect  their  Christianity.  Grace  sweetens  where  it  sanctifies,  Iti  the 
name  of  God  and  Christianity,  what  has  Christ  to  do  wath  Belial  ? 
What  has  grace  to  do  Avith  that  avaricious,  envious,  mahgnant,  implac- 
able disposition,  which  is  utterly  opposed  to  the  genius  of  the  gospel 
and  the  Spirit  that  was  in  Jesus  Christ  ?  Am  I  told  that  his  disciples 
sought  fire  from  heaven  to  consume  their  enemies  ?  Am  I  told  that, 
with  the  intolerance  of  bigotry,  and  a  narrowness  of  mind  still  too  com- 
mon, they  thought  to  silence  those  whom  they  regarded  as  rivals  ?  Am 
I  told  that,  set  on  fire  of  an  earthly  ambition,  they  blazed  out  into 
unseemly  quarrels  with  each  other  ?  Am  I  told  that,  even  on  the  sol- 
emn eve  of  a  Saviour's  sufferings,  when  their  tears  should  have  quenched 
all  unhallowed  fires,  they  strove  for  the  highest  place  in  the  kingdom? 
Am  I  told  how  harshly  they  silenced  the  cries,  and  rebuked  the  impor- 
tunity of  suflering,  and  how  haughtily  these  proud  fishermen  bore  tliem- 
selves  to  the* mothers  and  babes  of  Israel?  True;  but  this  temper 
passed  away.  Their  Master  cast  out  the  unclean  spirit.  Pentecost  bap- 
tized them  with  another  nature.  With  the  peace  of  Jesus  they  received 
his  gentle,  generous,  gracious,  loving,  forbearing,  forgiving  temper. 
These  Elishas  entered  on  their  work  clothed  in  the  mantle  of  their 
ascended  Master.  Had  it  been  otherwise — had  they  not  been  made  of 
love,  as  well  as  messengers  of  love — had  the  love  they  preached  not 
breathed  in  every  tone,  and  beamed  in  every  look — had  they  not  illus- 
trated in  their  practice  the  genius  of  the  gospel,  their  mission  had  been 
a  signal  failure  ;  they  had  never  opened  the  hearts  of  men  ;  they  had 
never  made  their  way  in  a  resistant  world — never  conquered  it.  Just 
as  it  is  not  with  stubborn  but  pliant  iron  that  locks  ai-e  picked,  the 
hearts  of  sinners  are  to  be  opened  only  by  those  Avho  bring  a  Christ-like 
gentleness  to  the  work ;  and  who  are  ready,  Avith  Paul's  large,  loving, 
kind,  and  generous  disposition,  to  be  all  things  to  all  men,  if  so  be  that 
they  may  win  some.  Never  had  the  disciples  gone  forth  "  conquering 
and  to  conquer,"  had  they  brought  their  old,  bigoted,  quarrelsome, 
unsanctified  temper  to  the  mission.  They  might  have  died  for  Chris- 
tianity, but  she  had  died  Avith  them  ;  and,  bound  to  their  stake,  and 
expiring  in  theit  ashes,  she  had  been  entombed  in  the  sepulcher  of  her 
first  and  last  apostles. 

I  pi"^y  you  to  cultivate  the  temper  that  Avas  in  Jesus  Christ.     Is  he 


THE    NEW    HEART.  633 

lilce  a  follower  of  the  Lamb  who  is  raging  like  a  roaring  lion  ?  Is  he 
like  a  pardoned  criminal  who  sits  moping  with  a  cloud  upon  his  brow  ? 
Is  he  like  an  heir  of  heaven,  like  a  man  destined  to  a  crown,  who  is 
vexed  and  fretted  with  some  petty  loss  ?  Is  he  like  one  in  whose  bosom 
the  Dove  of  heaven  is  nestling,  who  is  full  of  all  manner  of  bile  and 
bitterness?  Oh!  let  the  same  mind  be  in  you  that  was  in  Jesus.  A  kind,, 
catholic,  gentle,  loving  temper  is  one  of  the  most  winning  features  of 
religion  ;  and  by  its  silent  and  softening  influence  you  will  do  more  real 
service  to  Christianity  than  by  the  loudest  professions,  or  the  exhibition 
of  a  cold  and  skeleton  orthodoxy.  Let  it  appear  in  you,  that  it  is  with 
the  believer  under  the  influences  of  the  Spirit  as  with  fruit  ripened  be- 
neath the  genial  influences  of  heaven's  dews  and  sunbeams.  At  first 
hard,  it  grows  soft ;  at  first  sour,  it  becomes  sweet ;  at  first  green,  it 
assumes  in  time  a  rich  and  mellow  color ;  at  first  adhering  tenaciously 
to  the  tree,  when  it  becomes  ripe,  it  is  ready  to  drop  at  the  slightest 
touch.  So  with  the  man  who  is  ripening  for  heaven.  His  afiections  and 
temper  grow  sweet,  soft,  mellow,  loose  from  earth  and  earthly  things. 
He  comes  away  readily  to  the  hand  of  death,  and  leaves  the  world  with- 
out a  wrench. 

IV.  In  conversion  God  gives  a  heart  of  flesh.  "  I  Avill  give  you  a 
heart  of  flesh." 

Near  by  a  stone — a  mass  of  rock  that  had  fallen  from  the  overhang- 
ing crag — which  had  some  wild  flowers  growing  in  its  fissures,  and  on 
its  top  the  fox-glove,  with  its  spike  of  beautiful  but  deadly  flowers,  we 
once  came  upon  an  adder  as  it  lay  in  ribbon  coil,  basking  on  the  sunny 
ground.  At  our  approach  the  reptile  stirred,  uncoiled  itself,  and,  raising 
its  venomous  head,  with  eyes  like  burning  coals,  it  shook  its  cloven 
tongue,  and,  hissing,  gave  signs  of  battle.  Attacked,  it  retreated  ;  and, 
making  for  that  gray  stone,  wormed  itself  into  a  hole  in  its  side.  Its 
nest  and  home  were  there.  And  in  looking  on  that  shattered  rock- 
fallen  from  its  primeval  elevation — with  its  flowery  but  fatal  charms,  the 
home  and  nest  of  the  adder,  where  nothing  grew  but  poisoned  beauty, 
and  nothing  dwelt  but  a  poisoned  brood,  it  seemed  to  us  an  emblem  of 
that  heart  which  the  text  describes  as  a  stone,  which  experience  proves 
is  a  habitation  of  devils,  and  which  the  prophet  pronounces  to  be  des- 
perately wicked.  It  is  cold  as  a  stone ;  hard  as  a  stone  ;  dead  and 
insensible  as  a  stone.  Now,  as  by  the  term  "flesh"  we  understand 
qualities  the  very  opposite  of  these,  I  therefore  remark  that — 

In  conversion  a  man  gets  a  warm  heart. 

Let  us  restrict  ourselves  to  a  single  example.  When  faith  recei\os  the 
Sa\'iour,  how  does  the  heart  Avarm  to  Jesus  Christ !  There  is  music  in 
his  name.  "  Ilis  name  is  as  an  ointment  poured  forth."  All  the  old 
indifference  to  his  cause,  his  people,  and  the  interests  of  his  kingdom, 
has  passed  away ;  and  now  these  have  the  warmest  place  in  a  believer's 
b()som,  and  are  the  objects  of  its  strongest  and  tenderest  afiections.   The 


634:  THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 

only  place,  alas  !  that  religion  has  in  the  hearts  of  many  is  a  burial-place  ; 
but  the  believer  can  say  with  Paul,  "  Christ  liveth  in  me,"  Nor  is  his 
heart  like  the  cottage  of  Bethany,  favored  only  with  occasional  visits. 
Jesus  abides  there  in  the  double  character  of  guest  and  master — its 
most  loving  and  best  loved  inmate ;  and  there  is  a  difference  as  great 
between  that  heart  as  it  is,  and  that  heart  as  it  was,  as  between  the 
warm  bosom  where  the  Infant  slept  or  smiled  in  Mary's  arms  and  the 
dark,  cold  sepulcher  where  weeping  followers  laid  and  left  the  Crucified. 

Is  there  such  a  heart  in  you  ?  Dou  you  appreciate  Christ's  matchless 
excellences '?  Having  cast  away  every  sin  to  embrace  him,  do  you  set 
liim  above  your  chiefest  joy  ?  Would  you  leave  flxther,  mother,  wife, 
children,  to  follow  him,  with  bleeding  feet,  over  life's  roughest  path  ? 
Rather  than  part  with  him,  would  you  part  with  a  thousand  worlds  ? 
Were  he  now  on  earth,  would  you  leave  a  throne  to  stoop  and  tie  his 
latchet  ?  If  I  might  so  speak,  would  you  be  proud  to  carry  his  shoes  ? 
Then,  indeed,  you  have  got  the  new,  warm  heart  of  flesh.  The  new 
love  of  Christ,  and  the  old  love  of  the  world,  may  still  meet  in  opposbig 
currents  ;  but  in  the  war  and  strife  of  these  antagonistic  principles,  the 
celestial  shall  overpower  the  terrestrial,  as,  at  the  river's  mouth,  I  have 
seen  the  ocean  tide,  when  it  came  rolling  in  with  a  thousand  billows  at 
its  back,  fill  all  the  channel,  carry  all  before  its  conquering  swell,  dam 
up  the  fresh  water  of  the  land,  and  drive  it  back  with  resistless  jiower. 

In  conversion  a  man  gets  a  soft  heart. 

As  "  flesh,"  it  is  soft  and  sensitive.  It  is  flesh,  and  can  be  wounded 
or  healed.  It  is  flesh,  and  feels  alike  the  kiss  of  kindness  and  the  rod 
of  correction.  It  is  flesh ;  and  no  longer  a  stone,  hard,  obdurate,  im- 
penetrable to  the  genial  influences  of  heaven.  A  hard  block  of  ice,  it 
has  yielded  to  the  beams  of  the  sun,  and  been  melted  into  flowing  wa- 
ter. How  are  you  moved  now,  stirred  now,  quickened  now,  sanctified 
now,  by  truths  once  felt  no  more  than  dews  falling  out  of  starry 
heavens,  in  soft  silence,  upon  rugged  rock.  The  heart  of  grace  is  en- 
dowed with  a  delicate  sensibility,  and  vibrates  to  the  slightest  touch  of 
a  Saviour's  fingers.  How  does  the  truth  of  God  affect  it  now  !  A  stone 
no  longer,  it  melts  under  the  heavenly  fire  ;  a  stone  no  longer,  it  bends 
beneath  the  hammer  of  the  word  ;  no  longer  like  a  rugged  rock,  on 
which  rains  and  sunbeams  were  wasted,  it  receives  the  impression  of 
God's  power,  and  retains  the  footprints  of  his  presence.  Like  the  flowers 
that  close  their  eyes  at  night,  but  waken  at  the  voice  of  morning,  like 
the  earth  that  gapes  in  summer  drought,  the  new  heart  opens  to  receive 
the  bounties  of  grace  and  the  gifts  of  heaven.  Have  you  experienced 
such  a  change  ?  In  proof  and  evidence  of  its  reality,  is  David's  Ian- 
gunge  yours :  "  I  have  stretched  out  my  hands  unto  thee.  My  soul 
ihirsteth  after  thee  as  a  thirsty  land  '?" 

In  conversion  a  man  gets  a  living  heart. 

The  perfection  of  this  life  is  death — it  is  to  be  dead  to  sin,  but  alive 


THE     NEW    HEART.  635 

to  righteousness,  alive  to  Christ,  alive  to  every  thing  Avhich  Touches  his 
honor,  and  crown,  and  kingdom.  With  Christ  living  in  his  heart,  the 
believer  feels  that  now  he  is  not  himself — not  his  own ;  and,  as  another's, 
the  grand  object  of  his  life  is  to  live  to  Christ.  He  reckons  him  an  ob 
I'ect  worth  living  for,  had  he  a  thousand  lives  to  live ;  worth  dying  for, 
had  he  a  thousand  deaths  to  die.  He  says  with  Paul,  "  I  am  crucified 
with  Christ,  nevertheless  I  live."  In  the  highest  sense  alive,  he  is  dead 
— dead  to  things  he  was  once  alive  to  ;  and  he  wishes  that  he  were  more 
dead  to  them — thoroughly  dead.  He  wishes  that  he  could  look  on  the 
seductions  of  the  world,  and  sin's  volu})tuous  charms,  with  the  cold,  un- 
moved stare  of  death,  and  that  these  had  no  more  power  to  kindle  a 
desire  in  him,  than  in  the  icy  bosom  of  a  corpse.  "  Understandest  thou 
what  thou  readest  ?" 

It  is  a  mark  of  grace  that  the  believer,  in  his  progress  heavenward, 
grows  more  and  more  alive  to  the  claims  of  Jesus.  If  you  "  know  the 
love  of  Christ,"  his  is  the  latest  name  you  will  desire  to  utter ;  his  is  the 
latest  thought  you  Avill  desire  to  form  ;  upon  him  you  will  fix  your  last 
look  on  earth  ;  upon  him  your  first  in  heaven.  When  memory  is  obliv- 
ious of  all  other  objects, — when  all  that  attracted  the  natural  eye  is 
wrapped  in  the  mists  of  death, — when  the  tongue  is  cleaving  to  the 
roof  of  our  mouth,  and  speech  is  gone,  and  sight  is  gone,  and  hearing 
gone,  and  the  right  hand,  lying  powerless  by  our  side,  has  lost  its  cun- 
ning, Jesus !  then  may  we  remember  thee !  If  the  shadows  of  death 
arc  to  be  thrown  in  deepest  darkness  on  the  valley,  when  we  are  passing 
along  it  to  glory,  may  it  be  ours  to  die  like  that  samt,  beside  whose  bed 
wife  and  children  once  stood,  weeping  over  the  wreck  of  faded  faculties, 
and  a  blank,  departed  memoiy.  One  had  asked  him,  "  Father,  do  you 
remember  me  ?"  and  received  no  answer ;  and  another,  and  another, 
but  still  no  answer.  And  then,  all  making  way  for  the  venerable  com- 
panion of  a  long  and  loving  pilgrimage — the  tender  partner  of  many  a 
past  joy  and  sorrow — his  wife  draws  near.  She  bends  over  him,  and  as 
her  tears  fall  thick  upon  his  face,  she  cries,  "  Do  you  not  remember  me  ?" 
A  stare — but  it  is  vacant.  There  is  no  soul  in  that  filmy  eye ;  and  the 
seal  of  death  lies  upon  those  lips.  The  sun  is  down,  and  life's  brief  twi- 
light is  darkening  fast  into  a  starless  night.  At  this  moment  one,  calm 
enough  to  remember  how  the  love  of  Christ's  spouse  is  "  strong  as 
death" — a  love  that  "  many  waters  can  not  quench" — stooped  to  his  eai-, 
and  said,  "  Do  you  remember  Jesus  Christ  ?"  The  word  was  no  sooner 
uttered  than  it  seemed  to  recall  the  s])irit,  hovering  for  a  moment,  ere  it 
took  wing  to  heaven.  Touched  as  by  an  electric  influence,  the  heart 
beat  once  more  to  the  name  of  Jesus ;  the  features,  fixed  in  death,  re- 
lax ;  the  countenance,  dark  in  death,  flushes  up  flke  the  last  gleam  of 
day ;  and,  with  a  smile  in  which  the  soul  passed  away  to  glory,  he  re- 
plied, "  Remember  Jesus  Christ !  dear  Jesus  Christ !  he  is  all  my  salva- 
tion, and  all  my  desire." 


636  THOMAS    GUTHRIE. 

V.  By  conversio7i  man  is  ennobled. 

Infidelity  regards  man  as  little  better  than  an  animated  statue,  living 
clay,  a  superior  animal.  She  sees  no  jewel  of  immortality  flashing  in 
this  earthly  casket.  According  to  her,  our  future  being  is  a  brilliant 
but  baseless  dream  of  the  present ;  death,  an  everlasting  sleep ;  and  that 
dark,  low,  loathsome  grave  our  eternal  sepulcher. 

Vice,  again,  looks  on  man  as  an  animal  formed  for  the  indulgence  of 
brutal  appetites.  She  sees  no  divinity  in  his  mtellect,  nor  pure  feelings, 
nor  lofty  aspirations  worthy  of  cultivation  for  the  coming  state.  Her 
foul  fingei-  never  points  him  to  the  skies.  She  leaves  powers  and  feelings 
which  might  have  been  trained  to  heaven  to  trail  upon  the  ground  ;  to 
be  soiled  and  trodden  in  the  mire,  or  to  entwine  themselves  around  the 
basest  objects.  In  virtuous  shame,  in  modesty,  purity,  integrity,  gentle- 
ness, natural  affection,  she  blights  with  her  poisonous  breath  whatever 
vestiges  of  beauty  have  survived  the  Fall ;  and  when  she  has  done  her 
perfect  work,  she  leaves  man  a  wreck,  a  wretch,  an  object  of  loathing, 
not  only  to  God  and  angels,  but — lowest  and  deepest  of  all  degradation 
— an  object  of  contempt  and  loathing  to  himself. 

While  infidelity  regards  man  as  a  mere  animal,  to  be  dissolved  at 
death  into  ashes  and  air,  and  vice  changes  man  into  a  brute  or  devil, 
Mammon  enslaves  him.  She  makes  him  a  serf,  and  condemns  him  to  be 
a  gold-digger  for  life  in  the  mines.  She  puts  her  collar  on  his  neck,  and 
locks  it ;  and  bending  his  neck  to  the  soil,  and  bathing  his  brow  in 
sweat,  she  says.  Toil,  toil,  toil ;  as  if  this  creature,  originally  made  in 
the  image  of  God,  this  dethroned  and  exiled  monarch,  to  save  whom  the 
Son  of  God  descended  from  the  skies,  and  bled  on  Calvary,  were  a  liWng 
machine,  constructed  of  sinew,  bone,  and  muscle,  and  made  for  no  higher 
end  than  to  work  to  live,  and  live  to  work. 

Contrast  with  these  the  benign  aspect  in  which  the  gospel  looks  on 
man.  Religion  descends  from  heaven  to  break  our  chains.  She  alone 
raises  me  from  degradation,  and  bids  me  lift  my  drooping  head,  and 
look  up  to  heaven.  Yes ;  it  is  that  very  gospel  which  by  some  is  sup- 
posed to  present  such  dark,  degrading,  gloomy  views  of  man  and  his 
destiny,  which  lifts  me  from  the  dust  and  the  dunghill  to  set  me  among 
princes — on  a  level  with  angels — in  a  sense  above  them.  To  say  nothing 
of  the  divine  nobility  grace  imparts  to  a  soul  which  is  stamped  anew 
with  the  likeness  and  image  of  God,  how  sacred  and  venerable  does  even 
this  body  appear  in  the  eye  of  piety  !  No  longer  a  form  of  animated 
dust ;  no  longer  the  subject  of  passions  shared  in  common  with  the 
brutes ;  no  longer  the  drudge  and  slave  of  Mammon,  the  once  "  vile 
body"  rises  into  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Vile  in  one  sense  it  may 
be  ;  yet  what,  although  it  be  covered  with  sores  ?  what,  although  it  be 
clothed  in  rags  ?  what,  although,  in  unseemly  decrepitude,  it  want  its 
fair  proportions  ?  that  poor,  pale,  sickly,  shattered  form  is  the  casket  of 
a  precious  jewel.     This  mean  and  crumbling  tabernacle  lodges  a  guest 


THE     NEW    HEART.  637 

nobler  than  palaces  may  boast  of;  angels  hover  around  its  walls ;  the 
Spirit  of  God  dwells  within  it.  What  an  incentive  to  holiness,  to  purit  j 
of  life  and  conduct,  lies  in  the  fact  that  the  body  of  a  saint  is  the  temple 
of  God  ! — a  truer,  nobler  temple  than  that  which  Solomon  dedicated  by 
his  prayers,  and  Jesus  consecrated  by  his  presence.  In  Popish  cathe- 
dral, where  the  light  streamed  through  painted  window,  and  the  organ 
pealed  along  lofty  aisles,  and  candles  gleamed  on  golden  cups  and  silver 
crosses,  and  incense  floated  in  fragrant  clouds,  we  have  seen  the  blinded 
worshiper  uncover  his  head,  droj)  reverently  on  his  knees,  and  raise  his 
awe-struck  eye  on  the  imposing  spectacle ;  we  have  seen  him  kiss  the 
marble  floor,  and  knew  that  sooner  would  he  be  smitten  dead  upon  that 
floor  than  be  guilty  of  defiling  it.  How  does  this  devotee  rebuke  us  ! 
We  wonder  at  his  superstition  ;  how  may  he  wonder  at  our  profonity ! 
Can  we  look  on  the  lowly  veneration  he  expresses  for  an  edifice  which 
has  been  erected  by  some  dead  man's  genius,  which  holds  but  some 
image  of  a  deified  Virgin,  or  bones  of  a  canonized  saint,  and  which — 
proudly  as  it  raises  its  cathedral  towers — time  shall  one  day  cast  to  the 
ground,  and  bury  in  the  dust ;  can  we,  I  say,  look  on  that,  and,  if  sensi- 
ble to  rebuke,  not  feel  reproved  by  the  spectacle  ?  In  how  much  more 
respect,  in  how  much  holier  veneration  should  we  hold  this  body  ?  Tlie 
shrine  of  immortality,  and  a  temple  dedicated  to  the  Son  of  God,  it  is 
consecrated  by  the  presence  of  the  Spirit — a  living  temj^le,  over  whose 
porch  the  eye  of  piety  reads  what  the  finger  of  inspiration  has  written 
— "  If  any  man  defile  the  temple  of  God,  him  shall  God  destroy;  for  the 
temple  of  God  is  holy,  which  temple  ye  are." 


DISCOURSE    XLV. 

ALEXANDER    DUFF,    D.D. 

Tins  distinguished  missionary  to  India  was  born  at  Kirkmicbael,  in  Perthsliire, 
Scotland,  in  the  year  1806.  After  conckiding  a  full  academic  course  at  the  Univer.- 
sity  of  St.  Andrews,  under  the  instructions  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  with  whom  he  was  a 
favorite  student,  and  others  of  less  note,  he  was  licensed  to  preach  the  gospel,  and 
immediately  ordained  and  sent  forth  as  the  first  missionary  of  the  Church  of  Scotland 
to  the  heathen.  He  reached  Calcutta  in  the  fall  of  1830,  and  set  about  the  work 
committed  to  his  charge.  From  the  first,  the  instruction  of  youth  has  occupied 
much  of  his  attention  ;  and  he  may  be  considered  as  having  reached  a  point  of  per- 
fection in  this  line  of  effort  which  has  never  been  suipassed.  In  the  year  1850  there 
were  over  one  thousand  pupils  attending  the  various  classes  in  the  Institution 
which  he  founded. 

Dr.  Duff  has  twice,  at  least,  revisited  Scotland ;  first  in  1835 — spending  there,  to 
regain  his  health,  some  four  years — and  again  a  year  or  two  ago,  for  a  like  purpooC, 
at  which  time  he  made  a  visit  to  the  United  States.  Wherever  he  went,  here  or 
abroad,  he  received  the  most  marked  respect,  as  a  man  of  God,  and  a  self-forgetful 
and  successful  missionary.  His  many  powerful  appeals  on  behalf  of  the  heathen 
will  not  soon  be  forgotten.  Previous  to  his  departure  from  his  native  land,  a  pubhc 
meeting  was  held  in  the  Free  High  Church  in  Edinburg,  where  a  multitude  of  his 
friends  crowded  to  hear  his  ferewell  address.  Dr.  Tweedie,  Convener  of  the 
Foreign  Mission  Committee  of  the  Free  Church,  presided ;  Dr.  CandUsh  opened  the 
proceedings  with  prayer;  after  which  Dr.  Duff  delivered,  for  the  space  of  two 
hours,  one  of  his  overwhelming  appeals  on  behalf  of  the  missionary  enterprise* 
The  conclusion  of  his  speech  was  a  farewell  to  Scotland  and  a  welcome  to  India, 
which,  being  uttered  in  his  peculiarly  powerful  and  winning  style,  drew  tears  from 
the  eyes  of  almost  every  person  in  the  great  throng  of  those  who  listened.  He 
said : 

"  And  now  this,  my  home-work,  being  for  the  present  finished,  while  exigences 
of  a  peculiar  kind  appear  to  call  me  back  again  to  the  Indian  field,  I  cheerfully  obey 
the  summons ;  and  despite  its  manifold  ties  and  attractions,  I  now  feel  as  if,  in  full- 
ness of  heart,  I  can  say,  Farewell  to  Scotland — to  Scotland  I  honored  by  ancient 
memories  and  associations  of  undying  glory  and  renown  1  Scotland,  on  whose  soil 
were  fought  some  of  the  mightiest  battles  for  civil  and  religious  Uberty  !  Scotland, 
thou  country  and  home  of  the  bravest  among  undaunted  Reformers  I  Scotland, 
thou  chosen  abode  and  last  resting-places  of  the  ashes  of  most  heroic  and  daring 
martyrs? — jet,  farewell,  Scotland!     Farewell  to  all  that  is  in  thee,  &nd  welcome, 


ALEXANDER    DUFF.  639 

India  !  'Welcorae,  India,  with  thy  benighted,  perishing  millions !  because,  in  the 
vision  of  faith,  I  see  the  renovating  process  that  is  to  elevate  them  from  the  lowest 
depths  of  debasement  and  shame  to  the  noblest  heights  of  celestial  glory.  Welcome, 
ye  majestic  hills,  the  loftiest  on  this  our  globe ;  for  though  cold  be  your  summits, 
and  clothed  with  the  drapery  of  eternal  winter,  in  the  vision  of  faith  I  can  go  be- 
yond and  behold  the  mountain  of  the  Lord's  house  established  on  the  top  of  the 
mountains,  with  the  innumerable  multitudes  of  India's  adoring  worshipers  joyously 
thronging  toward  it.  Welcome,  too,  ye  mighty,  stupendous  fabrics  of  a  dark  low- 
ering idolatry ;  because,  in  the  vision  of  faith,  I  can  see  in  your  certain  downfall, 
and  in  the  beauteous  temples  of  Christianity  reared  over  your  ruins,  one  of  the 
mightiest  monuments  to  the  triumph  and  glory  of  our  adored  Immanuel.  Wel- 
come, too,  thou  majestic  Ganges,  in  whose  waters,  through  every  age,  such  count- 
less multitudes  have  been  engulfed  in  the  vain  hope  of  obtaining  thereby  a  sure 
passport  to  immortality,  because,  in  the  vision  of  faith,  I  behold  the  myriads  of  thy 
deluded  votaries  forsaking  thy  turbid  though  sacred  waters,  and  learning  to  wash 
their  robes  and  make  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  Welcome — if  the 
Lord  so  wills  it — welcome,  sooner  or  later,  a  quiet  resting-place  on  thy  sunny 
banks,  amid  the  Hindoo  people,  for  whose  deUverance  from  the  tyrannic  sway  of  the 
foulest  and  crudest  idolatries  on  earth,  I  have  groaned  and  travailed  in  soul  agony. 

"  Fare  ye  well,  then !  And  in  view  of  that  bright  and  glorious  eternity,  wel- 
come, thrice  welcome,  thou  resurrection  morn ;  when  the  graves  of  every  clime 
and  every  age,  from  the  time  of  righteous  Abel  down  to  the  period  of  the  last 
trumpet  sound,  will  give  up  their  dead ;  and  the  ransomed  myriads  of  the  Loi'd 
ascending  on  high,  shall  enter  the  mansions  of  glory — the  palaces  of  light — in  Im- 
manuel's  land ;  and  there,  togetlier,  in  indissoluble  and  blissful  harmony,  celebrate 
the  jubilee  of  a  once-groaning,  but,  then,  renovated  universe !  Farewell !  Fare- 
well 1" 

Dr.  Duff  is  a  man  of  commanding  talents,  and  a  large  and  catholic  spirit ;  and  is 
possessed  of  remarkable  oratorical  powers,  for  either  the  pulpit  or  the  platform. 
He  is  about  six  feet  high,  but  of  slight  structure ;  his  face  and  accent  are  thoroughly 
Scotch;  his  complexion  habitually  flushed,  even  to  redness,  with  what  appears  a 
determination  of  blood  to  the  head.  His  hair  is  combed  back,  and  when  he  is 
excited  in  a  speech,  it  seems  to'  stand  erect ;  while,  trembling  hke  a  paralytic,  he 
pours  out  a  torrent  of  impassioned  eloquence  such  as  it  is  impossible  to  resist.  His 
gestures  at  such  a  time  become  exceedingly  awkward ;  he  distorts  his  shoulders 
and  his  countenance,  and  "  fists  his  forehead  and  twitches  his  pantaloons,"  and  ap- 
proaches an  almost  terrible  vividness  of  feeling.  Doubtless  it  is  to  his  earnestness,  his 
evident  piety  and  sincerity,  and  his  excitable  temperament,  that  something  of  his 
power  over  an  audience  is  due  ;  but,  aside  from  all  this,  there  is  thought  and  argu- 
ment ;  and  it  is  generally  uttered  in  a  manner  combining  the  various  qualities  of 
true  eloquence. 

The  following  is  his  most  celebrated  discourse,  and  altogether  worthy  of  his  repu- 
tation.    It  is  copied  from  an  Edinburg  edition,  and  has  never  before  been  printed 


640  ALEXANDER    DUFF. 


MISSIONS  THE  CHIEF  END   OF  THE  CIHJRCH. 

"God  be  merciful  unto  us,  and  bless  us ;  and  causo  .lis  ftice  to  sliine  upon  us. 
"That  thy  way  may  bo  known  upon  earth,  thy  saving  health  among  all  nations." — 
Psalm  Ixvii.  1,  2. 

The  I'oyal  Psalmist,  in  the  spirit  of  inspiration,  personating  the 
Church  of  the  redeemed  in  every  age,  and  more  especially  under  its  last 
and  most  perfect  dispensation,  here  oflers  up  a  sublime  prayer  for  its 
inward  prosperity  and  outward  universal  extension.  All  is  in  the  order 
of  nature  and  of  grace.  Knowing  full  well  that  he  Avho  has  not  obtained 
mercy  from  the  Lord,  can  not  be  a  lit  bearer  of  it  to  others ;  that  he 
who  has  obtained  no  blessings  himself,  can  dispense  none ;  that  he  who 
enjoys  no  light,  can  communicate  .none  ;  he,  first  of  all,  with  marked  and 
beautiful  propriety,  begins  with  the  supplication  of  personal  and  individual 
blessings — "  God  be  merciful  unto  us,"  forgiving  and  pardoning  all  our 
sin  :  "  and  bless  us,"  conferring  every  gift  and  every  grace  really  needful 
for  time  and  eternity :  "  and  lift  up  the  light  of  thy  countenance  upon 
us,"  cheering  us  with  the  smile  of  reconciliation  and  love,  and  causing 
the  Sun  of  Righteousness  to  arise  on  our  darkened  souls  with  healing  in 
his  beams. 

But  does  the  Psalmist  stop  here  ?  Does  he  for  a  moment  intend  that 
he  and  his  fellow- worshipers,  as  representatives  of  the  visible  Cluirch 
of  the  living  God,  should  absorb  all  the  mercy,  all  the  blessing,  and 
all  the  light  of  Jehovah's  countenance  ?  Oh,  no  !  Having  thus  fer- 
vently prayed  for  angelical  blessings  to  descend  upon  himself,  and  every 
member  of  the  Church,  he  immediately  superadds,  hi  the  true  evangel- 
istic or  missionary  spirit,  "  That  thy  way,"  or,  as  it  is  given  in  our  met- 
rical version,  "  That  so  thy  "way  may  be  known  upon  earth,  thy  saving 
health  among  all  nations." 

How  significant  the  connection  here  established,  the  ohtainment  and 
the  distribution  of  evangelical  favors — "  God  be  merciful  to  us,  and  bless 
us!"  Why?  Only  that  we  ourselves  may  be  pardoned  and  sanctified, 
and  thereby  attain  to  true  happiness  ?  No.  There  is  another  grand  end 
in  view,  to  the  accomplishment  of  which,  our  being  blessed  is  but  a 
means.  "  God  be  merciful  unto  us,  and  bless  us,  that  so  thy  way  may 
be  known  on  earth" — that  thus — that  in  this  way — that  by  our  instru- 
mentality— that  by  our  being  blessed,  and  having  the  light  of  thy  coun- 
tenance shining  upon  us — "thy  way" — thy  way  of  justification  through 
the  atonhig  righteousness  of  the  Redeemer — thy  way  of  sanctification 
by  his  Holy  Spirit — "  may  be  made  known  on  earth,  and  thy  saving 
health  among  all  nations.''^ 

And  then,  seized  with  true  prophetic  fire,  at  the  grandeur  of  the 
divine  design  in  reference  to  "  all  nations,''^  and  hurried  away  by  the 


MISSIONS    THE    CHIEF   END    OF    THE    CIIURCn.         641 

magnificence  of  the  vision  of  the  latter-day  glory,  does  "  the  sweet  singer 
of  Israel"  break  forth  into  heroic  measures,  sublimer  far  than  any  evei 
strung  on  Grecian  or  Roman  lyre  : 

"  Let  people  praise  thee,  Lord ; 

Let  people  all  thee  praise  ; 
0  let  the  nations  be  glad, 

And  sing  for  joy  always. 
Then  shall  the  earth  yield  her  increase, 

God,  our  God,  help  us  shall ; 
God  shall  us  bless,  and  of  the  earth 

The  ends  shall  fear  him  all." 


Here  the  two  grand  characteristics  of  the  true  Church  of  God — the 
evangelical,  and  the  evangeUstic  or  missionary — are  written  as  in  a  sun- 
beam :  the  evangelical,  in  the  jiossession  of  all  needful  gifts  and  graces 
out  of  the  plenitude  of  the  Spirit's  fullness ;  the  evangehstic,  in  the  in- 
stant and  perpetual  propeusion  which  that  possession  ought  to  generate 
and  feed,  instrumentally  to  dispense  these  blessings  among  cdl  nations. 
As  if  to  confound  lukewarm  and  misjudging  professors  throughout  all 
generations,  these  characteristics  are  represented  by  the  Spirit  of  inspira- 
tion itself  as  essential  to  the  very  existence  and  well-being  of  the 
Church,  and  in  their  very  nature  inseparable.  The  prayer  of  the 
Church,  as  dictated  by  the  divine  Spirit,  is  directed  to  the  obtainment 
of  blessings,  not  as  an  end,  merely  terminating  in  herself,  but  as  a 
means  toward  the  promotion  and  attainment  of  an  ulterior  end  of  the 
sublimest  description — the  enlightenment  and  conversion  of  all  nations  I 
Hence  it  follows,  that  when  a  Church  ceases  to  be  evangelistic,  it  must 
cease  to  be  evangelical ;  and  when  it  ceases  to  be  evangelical,  it  must 
cease  to  exist  as  a  true  Church  of  God,  however  primitive  or  apostolic 
it  may  be  in  its  outward  form  and  constitution  ! 

There  is  no  mystery  here.  If,  in  the  common  afiiiirs  of  life,  a  servant 
besought  and  obtained  an  increased  portion  of  goods,  that  he  might  pro- 
ceed to  a  distant  city  or  foreign  nation,  and  lay  out  the  whole  for  the 
advancement  of  his  master's  interest ;  and  if,  instead  of  acting  in  the 
terms  of  his  own  requisition,  and  agreeably  to  the  express  design  of  his 
kind  and  munificent  employer,  he  chose  to  remain  at  home,  and  appro- 
priate all  for  his  own  private  ends — what  judgment  would  the  world  pro- 
nounce on  such  a  man  ?  "Would  he  not  be  condemned  as  an  unprofitable 
servant,  who  dishonestly  attempted  to  embezzle  the  property  of  another  ? 
And  would  not  the  master  bo  more  than  justified  in  taking  away  from 
him  even  all  that  he  had  ? 

Precisely  similar  is  the  position  and  attitude  of  the  petitioning  Church, 
and,  consequently,  of  all  petitioning  believers,  as  portrayed  by  the  pen- 
cil of  the  divine  Spirit  in  the  words  of  our  text.  Believers  are  there 
taught  to  pray,  and  all  who  have  ever  read  or  sung  this  precious  Psalm  in 

41 


642  ALEXANDER    DUFF. 

a  believing  frame  of  mind,  have  actually  prayed  for  the  richest  spiritual 
blessings.  For  what  purpose  ?  That  they  themselves  may  enjoy  the 
comforts  and  consolations  of  piety  in  this  life,  and  a  meetness  for  the 
heavenly  inheritance  hereafter  V  Doubtless  this  is  the  Jirst  end,  and  must 
be  implied  and  included  in  the  object  of  the  petition.  But,  so  little 
does  this  appear  in  the  eye  of  the  Spirit,  to  be  t/ie  only,  or  even  the 
chief  end,  that  it  is  actually  left  altogether  unexpressed  I  There  is 
another  end  present  to  his  omniscient  view,  of  a  nature  so  transcend- 
ently  exalted,  that  the  former  is,  as  it  were,  wholly  overlooked,  because 
eclipsed  by  the  surpassing  glory  of  that  which  excelleth.  And  that 
other  end  of  all-absorbing  excellence  is,  the  impartation  of  God''s  saving 
health  to  all  nations.  So  pre-eminent  in  importance  does  this  end  ap- 
pear to  the  mind  of  the  Spirit,  that  believers  are  taught  to  implore 
spiritual  blessings  expressly,  and  even  briefly,  that  they  may  thereby 
have  it  in  their  power  the  more  effectually  to  promote  it  throughout  the 
world. 

If,  then,  in  answer  to  sicch  prayers,  spiritual  blessings  should  be  con- 
ferred from  on  high ;  and  if,  instead  of  employing  them  for  the  promo- 
tion of  their  divine  Master's  interest,  by  causing  his  saving  health  to  be 
made  known  to  all  nations,  believers  should  sit  down  in  ease,  and  appro- 
priate all  to  themselves  and  their  own  friends  immediately  around  them 
— what  judgment  must  be  pronounced  upon  them  in  the  court  of 
heaven  ?  Must  they  not  be  condemned  as  guilty  of  a  breach  of  faith — 
guilty  of  a  dereliction  of  duty  to  their  Lord  and  Master — guilty  of  a 
dishonest  attempt  to  embezzle  the  treasures  of  his  grace  ?  And  if  so, 
must  not  their  sin,  if  unrepented  of,  bring  down  its  deserved  punish- 
ment ?  And  what  can  the  first  drop  from  the  vial  of  divine  wrath  do 
less  than  expunge  from  the  spiritual  inventory  of  such  worthless  stew- 
ards all  that  they  have  already  so  gratuitously  and  undeservedly  obi 
tained  ?  What  a  resistless  argument  does  the  Spirit  of  God  here  sup- 
ply in  favor  of  the  missionary  enterprise  !  "Who  can  peruse  the  words 
of  his  own  inspiration  without  being  overwhelmed  with  the  conviction, 
that,  in  his  unerring  estimate,  the  chief  end  for  tvhich  the  Church  ought 
to  exist — the  chief  end  for  xohich  individual  church-members  ought  to 
live,  is  the  evangelization  or  conversion  of  the  world ! 

But,  lest  any  shade  of  dubiety  should  exist  as  to  the  incontrovertible 
legitimacy  of  this  conclusion,  the  same  momentous  truth  may  be  estab- 
lished by  other  and  independent  evidence. 

The  Spirit  of  prophecy,  speaking  through  Isaiah,  had  long  announced 
the  Messiah  himself,  not  only  as  King  and  Priest,  but  as  the  great  Pro- 
phet and  Evangelist  of  the  icorld.  "  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon 
me,"  says  the  divine  oracle,  "  because  the  Lord  hath  appointed  me  to 
pi-each  good  tidings  to  the  meek  ;  he  hath  sent  me  to  bind  up  the 
broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives,  and  the  opening 
of  the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound;  to  proclaim  the  acceptable  year 


MISSIONS    THE    CHIEF    END    OF    THE    CHURCn.        G43 

of  the  Lord ;  to  appoint  unto  them  that  mourn  in  Zion,  to  give  unto 
them  beauty  for  ashes,  the  oil  of  joy  for  mourning,  the  garment  of 
praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness."  And  lest  any  might  suppose  that  the 
exercise  of  the  functions  here  described  was  to  be  limited  to  the  Jews, 
the  natural  seed  of  Abraham,  God's  chosen  people  ;  or  the  Zion  here 
named  was  meant  exclusively  to  denote  the  literal  local  Zion  at  Jerusa- 
lem, and  not  rather  in  type  and  figure,  the  true  Catholic  Church  through- 
out the  world,  it  is  almost  immediately  added,  "  For  Zion's  sake  Avill  I 
not  hold  my  peace,  and  for  Jerusalem's  sake  wnll  I  not  rest,  until  the 
righteousness  thereof  go  forth  as  brightness,  the  salvation  thereof  as 
a  lamp  that  burneth  ;  and  the  Gentiles  shall  see  thy  righteousness,  and 
all  kings  thy  glory."  The  prophetic  import  and  design  of  these  words 
can  admit  of  no  doubt.  For,  when,  on  one  occasion,  our  blessed  Sar 
viour  stood  up  in  the  synagogue,  and,  opening  the  book  of  the  prophet 
Esaias,  read  the  former  of  these  passages,  he  distinctly  appropriated  the 
application  of  it  to  himself,  saying,  "  This  day  is  this  Scripture  fulfilled 
in  your  ears." 

Again,  if  it  was  prophesied  that  the  Messiah  would  "raise  up  the 
tribes  of  Jacob,  and  restore  the  proscribed  of  Israel,"  it  is  immediately 
added,  "  I  will  also  give  thee  for  a  light  to  the  Gentiles^  that  thou 
mayest  be  my  salvation  to  the  ends  of  the  earthP  And  again  :  "  Men 
shall  be  blessed  in  him  ;  all  nations  shall  call  him  blessed." 

In  strict  accordance,  not  only  with  the  substance,  but  almost  the  very 
%cords  of  these  and  many  other  prophecies,  we  find  the  announcement 
of  the  heavenly  host  to  the  shepherds  of  Bethlehem  :  "  Behold,  I  bring 
you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to  all  people  /  for  unto 
you  is  born  this  day  a  Sai'iour,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord."  The  intro- 
ductory salutation  of  the  Baptist,  the  Messiah's  forerunner — "  Behold 
the  Lamb  of  God,  which  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.''''  And, 
lastly,  the  solemn  declaration  of  the  Apostle  John — "  In  him  was  life, 
and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men.  That  was  the  true,  light  which  light- 
eth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  workV 

Now,  during  our  Saviour's  ministry  he  conveyed  many  significant 
intimations  to  his  disciples  that  he  intended  to  transfer  to  them,  and 
through  them  to  the  body  of  believers  in  every  age,  those  high  func- 
tions \\\\\c\i  2y)'iniariltj  and  rightfully  belonged  to  himself  as  the  world's 
Evangelist.  "  Ye  are,"  said  he,  "  the  salt,"  not  of  Judea  or  Jerusalem, 
but  "  of  the  earth.''''  One  of  the  brightest  of  his  own  prophetic  titles 
was,  "  the  light  of  the  Gentiles  ;"  or,  in  the  paraphrase  of  the  apostle, 
"  the  light  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world."  And 
this  very  title  he  transfers  to  his  disciples,  saying,  "  Ye  are  the  light^'' 
not  of  Judea  or  Jerusalem,  but  "  of  the  icorldP 

And,  when  about  to  withdraw  his  visible  presence  from  the  earth,  he 
formalhj  transferred  the  whole  of  his  visible  evangelistic  functions  to 
his  professing  disciples  or  Church,  to  be  exercised  and  administered  by 


644:  ALEXANDER     DUFF. 

it,  in  his  name  and  stead,  till  the  end  of  timij.  "  All  2)oicer,"  said  he, 
"  is  given  to  me  in  heaven  and  earth.  Go  ye,  therefore^  and  teach  all 
nations,  baptizing  them  in  tlie  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Sou,  and 
of  the  Holy  Ghost — teaching  them  (i.  e.  all  nations),  to  observe  all 
things  whatsoever  I  have  commanded  you  /  and  lo !  I  am  with  you 
always  even  unto  the  end  of  the  worldP 

This  is  the  grand  charter  under  which  a  visible  Church,  directly  hold- 
ing of  its  divine  Head,  was  at  first  constituted  and  designed  to  be  for- 
ever perpetuated  for  the  administration  of  gospel  ordinances  and  the 
exercise  of  spiritual  authority.  These  high  functions  in  the  royal  Head 
wei-e  original  and  underived — as  transferred  to  his  body,  the  Church, 
they  are,  of  necessity,  derivative  and  vice-regal.  As  Christ,  therefore, 
was  proclaimed  by  prophets  and  apostles,  as  well  as  by  himself,  in  his 
appropriation  of  j^rophetic  announcements,  to  be  the  world's  evangel- 
ist ;  in  his  personal  absence  during  the  present  dispensation,  he  was 
pleased  personally  to  appoint  and  constitute  the  Church  to  be  his  dele- 
gated representative  as  the  world's  evangelist ;  and,  along  with  the  evan- 
gelistic functions,  he  conveyed  the  power  and  authority  indispensable 
for  their  exercise. 

That  this  was  the  interpretation  put  upon  this  original  gospel  com^ 
mission  by  the  primitive  disciples,  is  evident,  not  only  from  the  whole 
tenor  of  their  conduct,  but  also  from  the  most  express  declai-ations  scat- 
tered throughout  the  book  of  the  Acts,  as  well  as  the  apostolic  Epistles. 

It  thus  appears  abundantly  manifest  from  multiplied  Scripture  evi-* 
dence,  that  the  chief  end  for  which  the  Christian  Church  is  constituted 
— the  leading  design  for  which  she  is  made  the  repository  of  heavenly 
blessings — the  great  command  under  which  she  is  laid — the  supreme 
function  which  she  is  called  on  to  discharge,  is,  in  the  name  and  stead 
of  her  glorified  Head  and  Redeemer,  unceasingly  to  act  the  pai-t  of  an 
evangelist  to  cdl  the  world.  The  inspired  prayer  which  she  is  taught  to 
ofier  for  spiritual  gifts  and  graces,  binds  her  as  the  covenanted  condition 
on  which  they  are  hestoiced  at  all,  to  dispense  them  to  all  nations.  The 
divine  charter  which  conveys  to  her  the  warrant  to  teach  and  preach  the 
Gospel  at  all,  binds  her  to  teach  and  preach  it  to  all  nations.  The  divine 
charter  which  embodies  a  commission  to  administer  gospel  ordinances 
at  all,  binds  her  to  administer  these  to  cdl  nations.  The  divine  charter 
which  communicates  power  and  authority  to  exercise  these,  not  alone  or 
exclusively,  to  secure  her  own  internal  purity  and  peace,  union  and  sta- 
bility, but  chiefly  and  supremely,  in  order  that  she  may  thereby  be 
enabled  the  more  speedily,  efiectually,  and  extensively,  to  execute  her 
grand  evangelistic  commission  in  preaching  the  gospel  to  all  nations. 

If,  then,  any  body  of  believers,  united  together  as  a  Church,  under 
whatever  form  of  external  discipline  and  polity,  do,  in  their  individual, 
or  congregational,  or  corporate  national  capacity,  willfully  and  deliber- 
ately overlook,  suspend,  or  indefinitely  postpone  the  accomplishment  of 


MISSIONS    THE    JHIEF    END    OF    THE    CHURCH.        645 

the  great  end  for  -whicli  the  Church  universal,  inchiding  every  evangeli- 
cal community,  implores  the  vouchsafement  of  spiritual  treasures — the 
great  end  for  which  she  has  obtained  a  separate  and  independent  consti- 
tution at  all — how  can  they,  separately  or  conjointly,  expect  to  realize, 
or,  reahzing,  expect  to  render  abiding  the  promised  presence  of  him 
who  alone  hath  the  keys  of  the  golden  treasury,  and  alone  upholds  the 
pillars  of  the  great  spiritual  edifice  ?  If  any  Church,  or  any  section  of 
a  Church,  do  thus  neglect  the  final  cause  of  its  being,  and  violate  the 
very  condition  and  tenure  of  all  spiritual  rights  and  privileges,  how  can 
it  expect  the  continuance  of  the  favor  of  him  from  whom  alone,  as 
their  divine  fount  and  S2:)ring-head,  all  such  rights  and  privileges  must 
ever  flow  ?  And,  if  deprived  of  his  favor  and  presence,  how  can  any 
Church  expect  long  to  exist,  far  less  sj^iritually  to  flourish,  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  inward  peace,  or  the  prospect  of  outward  and  more  extended 
prosperity  ? 

And  what  is  the  whole  history  of  the  Christian  Church  but  one  per- 
petual proof  and  illustration  of  the  grand  position — that  an  evangelistic 
or  niissionarg  Ghurch  is  a  sjiirltually  flourishing  Church ;  and,  that  a 
Church  ichich  drops  the  evangelistic  or  missionary  character,  siyeedily 
lapses  into  sxiperwinuation  and  decay  ! 

The  most  evangelistic  period  of  the  Christian  Church  was,  beyond  all 
doubt,  the  primitive  or  apostolic.  Then,  the  entire  community  of  saints 
seemed  to  act  under  an  overpowering  conviction  of  their  responsible 
duty,  as  the  divinely-appointed  evangeUsts  of  a  perishing  world.  No 
branch  or  oft-set  from  the  apostolic  stock  at  Jerusalem  had  in  those  days 
begun  to  surmise  that,  not  only  its  first,  but  chief,  and  almost  exclusive 
duty  was  to  Avitness  for  Christ  in  the  city,  or  district,  or  province,  or 
kingdom,  in  which  it  was  itself  already  planted  ;  in  other  words,  to  sur- 
mise that  the  most  effectual  mode  of  vindicating  its  title  to  the  designa- 
tion of  apostolic,  was  to  annihilate  its  own  apostolicity  !  For  what  can 
be  named  as  the  most  peculiar  and  distinguishing  feature  in  the  apos- 
tolic Church  at  Jerusalem,  if  not  the  burning  and  the  shining  aspect  of 
salvation  which  it  held  forth  toward  all  nations  !  No,  no.  In  those 
days  the  Church's  prayer,  as  breathed  by  the  inspired  Psalmist,  seemed 
to  issue  from  every  lip,  and  kindle  every  soul  into  correspondent  action: 
The  Redeemer's  parting  command  seemed  to  ring  in  every  ear,  and 
vitally  influence  every  feeling  and  f  iculty  of  the  renewed  soul.  Every 
man  and  woman,  and  almost  every  child,  through  the  remotest  branches 
of  the  wide-spreading  Church,  seemed  impelled  by  a  holy  zeal  to  dis- 
charge the  functions  of  a  missionary.  All,  all  seemed  moved  and  actuated 
toward  a  guilty  and  lost  world,  as  if  they  really  felt  it  to  be  as  much  their 
duty  to  disseminate  the  gospel  among  unchristianized  nations,  as  to 
pray,  or  teach,  or  preach  to  those  within  the  pale  of  their  respective 
Churches — as  much  their  duty  tr  propagate  the  knowledge  of  salvation 
among  the  blinded  heathen  as  to  yield  obedience  to  any  commandment 


646  ALEXANDER    ICTFF. 

in  the  decalogue.  And  were  not  those  the  days  of  flourishing  Christian- 
ity? Has  not  the  spiritual  beauty  and  brightness  of  the  primitive 
Church  been  the  theme  of  admiration  anc  praise  to  succeeding  genera- 
tions I  But  no  sooner  did  the  Church,  in  any  of  its  subdivisions,  begin 
to  contract  the  sjAere  of  its  eftbrts  in  diffusing  abroad  the  hght  of  the 
everlasting  Gospel — no  sooner  did  it  begin  to  settle  down  with  the  view 
of  snugly  enjoying  the  glorious  prerogatives  conferred  by  its  great 
Head — foi-getful  of  the  multitudes  that  were  still  famishing  for  lack  of 
knowledge,  to  all  of  whom  it  was  bound  by  covenant  to  announce  the 
glad  tidings  of  salvation  ;  in  a  word,  no  sooner  did  the  Church,  in  con- 
travention of  Heaven's  appointed  ordinance,  begin  to  relax  in  the  exer- 
cise of  its  evangelistic  function  toward  the  world  at  large,  than  its  sun, 
under  the  hiding  of  Jehovah's  countenance,  and  the  frown  of  his  dis- 
pleasure, began  to  decline,  and  hide  itself  amid  the  storms  of  wrathful 
controversy,  or  sink  beneath  a  gloomy  horizon  laden  with  freezing  rites 
and  soul- withering  forms! 

It  may  be  thought  that  the  history  of  the  Reformation  tends  to  con- 
tradict this  general  view.  So  far  from  this,  it  is  to  that  very  period,  as 
compared  with  the  times  immediately  succeeding,  that  we  would  appeal 
for  one  of  the  most  striking  illustrations  of  its  truth.  Doubtless  the 
Pagan  was  not  included  within  the  immediate  sphere  of  the  Reformers' 
labors.  Its  miserable  condition  was  then  scarcely,  if  at  all,  known  in  its' 
real  horror :  the  very  existence  of  the  great  Western  Continent  was  but 
recently  discov<?red  ;  and,  in  comparison  with  present  times,  the  facilities 
of  intercommunion  with  distant  jxarts  of  the  globe  were  as  circumscribed 
as  to  appear  to  us  hardly  conceivable. 

Still  the  work  of  the  Reformation  was  itself  a  grand  evangelistic 
work.  God,  by  his  Spirit,  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  an  enlightened  few, 
to  arise  and  make  an  "  aggressive  movement "  on  the  unenlightened 
many,  by  whom  they  were  everywhere  surrounded.  Their  first  and 
paramount  object  was  to  rescue  the  Bible  itself — the  great  instrument 
of  the  world's  evangelization — from  the  dormitory  of  dead  and  unintel- 
ligible languages ;  to  emancipate  its  doctrines  from  the  superincumbent 
load  of  Popish  traditions  and  AristoteUan  subtleties ;  to  vindicate  the 
rights  of  conscience  in  the  perusal  and  interpretation  of  that  Magna 
Charta  of  all  civil  and  religious  liberty ;  and,  finally,  to  bring  out,  and 
separate  from  idolatrous  Rome,  a  true  Church,  that  might  forever  pro- 
test against  all  doctrines  and  rites  whatsoever,  that  infringed,  by  one  jot 
or  tittle,  on  Christ's  supremacy,  as  the  sole  and  all-sufficient  Saviour  of 
lost  sinners — a  witnessing  Church,  that  might  reassume  the  great  evan- 
gelistic function  of  preaching  the  gospel  as  a  testimony  to  all  nations. 

This  struggle  with  anti-christian  Rome  Avas  indeed  a  long  and  terrible 
one ;  a  struggle  which,  as  regards  the  extent  of  the  field,  the  might  of 
the  combatants,  the  imperishable  interests  coutended  for,  and  the  mo- 
mentous consequences  dependent  thereon,  has  no  parallel  in  history, 


MISSIONS    THE    CHIEF    END    OF    THE    CHURCH.       647 

except  the  dreadful  conflict  of  primitive  Clnistianity  with  Pagan  Rome. 
But,  if  the  struggle  was  tremendous,  proportionately  glorious  was  the 
issue. 

Look  at  the  Protestant  Church  of  this  land  at  the  close  of  the  Ref- 
ormation era.  It  would  seem  as  if  the  very  windows  of  heaven  had 
then  ojiened,  and  the  showers  of  grace  had  descended  in  an  inundation 
of  spiritual  gifts  and  graces — converting  the  parched  lands  into  pools  of 
water,  and  the  barren  Avilderness  into  gardens  that  bloomed  and  blos- 
somed as  the  rose. 

Look  at  the  same  Church  a  century  afterward.  Wliat  a  poor,  torpid, 
shrunken,  shriveled  thing !  As  if  the  heavens  were  of  brass,  and  the  earth 
of  iron,  and  no  dew  descending,  the  very  waters  of  the  sanctuary  became 
stagnant,  and  bred  and  sent  forth  a  teeming  progeny  of  heresies, 
schisms,  and  dissents.  Ah,  how  is  the  beauty  of  Israel  effixced  in  our 
high  places !  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  !  Whence  the  cause  of  so  sad 
a  discomfiture  ?  It  was  not  from  the  violence  of  anti-Christian  adversa- 
ries— for  never  did  the  Church  enjoy  a  safer  respite  from  the  myrmidons 
of  her  Popish  foes.  It  was  not  from  the  fires  of  political  persecution — 
for  never  did  the  Church  enjoy  a  more  undisturbed  security  from  the 
State. 

"  It  was  not  in  the  battle, 
No  tempest  gave  the  shock." 

No ;  it  was  the  blight  and  mildew  of  Jehovah's  displeasure,  on  account 
of  a  neglected  and  unfliithful  stewardship ! 

The  active  princ'qjle  in  nian,  whicli,  though  often  sluggish,  and  oftener 
still  strangely  misdirected,  is  never  wholly  extinguished,  w'as  aroused  by 
the  Reformation  into  imwonted  energy.  And  most  legitimately  was  it 
then  made  to  expend  its  force,  in  the  awful  struggle  with  anti-Christian 
Rome.  But,  on  the  total  cessation  of  hostilities,  and  the  restoration  of 
general  peace,  how  ought  the  awakened  energy  of  the  reformed  Church 
to  have  been  directed  and  expended  ?  Plainly,  and  incontrovertibly,  it 
ought  to  have  found  its  constant  and  determinate  object — its  divinely- 
intended  employ — in  extending  the  triumphs  ot  Protestant,  that  is, 
primitive,  Christianity,  over  the  realms  of  Paganism.  But,  instead  of 
this,  the  Church,  soon  casting  aside  her  weapons  of  aggressive  warfare, 
settled  down,  in  inglorious  ease,  to  enjoy  the  conquests  she  had  won. 
What  then  ?  Did  her  active  energy  abate  or  sink  into  torpid  quiescence  ? 
No  ;  as  a  proper  outlet  was  denied  to  it,  in  assaulting  the  enemy  tcitli- 
out,  it  recoiled,  and  with  a  vehement  rebound,  on  the  heads  of  the 
negligent  and  slothful  icithin.  That  mighty  force,  which  should  liave 
been  rightfully  exerted  in  demolishing  the  heathenism  of  the  nations, 
soon  found  ample  vent  for  itself  in  fomenting  intestine  discords  and 
unhallowed  speculation,  idle  impertinences  and  heretical  controversy — 
thus  proving,  when  left  undirected   to  its  proper  object,  through  hike- 


648  ALEXANDER    DUFF. 

warmness  and  ti*easonal>le  neglect,  at  once  the  scourge  of  the  faitliless 
professor,  and  the  unhappy  instrument  of  the  Church's  distraction  and 
decay. 

We  have  comparatively  little  or  no  guilt,  in  this  respect,  to  charge 
home  upon  the  Reformers.  The  great  work  assigned  to  them  by  Heaven, 
they  executed  in  a  manner  that  far  exceeds  "  all  Greek,  all  Roman 
fame."  It  is  at  the  door  of  their  successors — for  whom  the  battle  had 
been  fought,  and  the  victory  won — that  the  blame  must  be  laid,  for 
which  we  can  find  no  palliation. 

When,  after  the  Reformation,  the  Protestant  Church  arose,  as  by  a 
species  of  moral  resurrection,  with  new-born  energies,  from  the  deep 
dark  grave  of  Popish  ignorance  and  superstition,  then,  was  she  in  an  atti- 
tude to  have  gone  forth  in  the  spirit  of  her  own  prayers,  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  divine  command,  on  the  sj^iritual  conquest  of  the  nations, 
and,  in  the  train  of  every  victory,  scatter,  as  her  trophies,  the  means  of 
grace,  and  as  her  plentiful  heritage,  the  hopes  of  a  glorious  immortality. 
But  instead  of  thus  fulfilling  the  immutable  law  of  her  constitution — 
instead  of  going  forth  in  a  progress  of  outioard  extension  and  onward 
aggression,  with  a  view  to  consummate  the  great  work  which  formed  at 
once  the  eternal  design  of  her  Head,  and  the  chief  end  of  her  being, 
the  Church  seemed  mainly  intent  on  turning  the  whole  of  her  energies 
inward  on  herself  Her  highest  ambition  and  ultimate  aim  seemed  to 
be,  to  have  herself  begirt  as  with  a  wall  of  fire  that  might  devour  her 
adversaries ;  to  have  her  own  privileges  fenced  in  by  laws  and  statutes 
of  the  realm ;  to  have  her  own  immunities  perpetuated  to  posterity  by 
solemn  leagues  and  covenants. 

All  well,  admirably  well,  had  she  only  borne  distinctly  in  mind  that 
she  was  thus  highly  favored,  not  for  her  own  sake  cdone^  but  that  by  her 
instrumentality  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation,  through  a  crucified 
Redeemer,  might  be  made  known  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth. 
All  well,  admirably  well,  had  she  only  borne  in  mind,  that  her  candle- 
stick was  not  rekindled  solely  for  her  own  use,  but  that  the  light  of  the 
Gospel  might  largely  emanate  therefrom,  and  be  diflTused  throughout  the 
nations.  All  well,  admirably  well,  had  she  only  borne  in  mind,  that  she 
possessed  no  exclusive  proprietaiy  right  to  the  blessings  of  the  covenant 
of  grace,  but  that,  like  every  other  branch  of  the  true  Church  of  Christ, 
she  held  these  in  commission  for  the  benefit  of  a  tchole  world  lying  in 
wickedness.  Ah !  had  the  Church  of  these  lands,  in  the  days  of  her 
glorious  triumph  and  undivided  strength,  gone  forth  in  accordance  with 
the  letter  and  s^nrit  of  her  oWn  heaven-inspired  prayers,  as  the  almoner 
of  Jehovah's  bounties  to  a  perishing  world,  how  different  might  have 
been  her  position  no^^  !  Instead  of  being  compelled  to  act  on  the  defen- 
sive— instead  of  being  reduced  to  the  necessitous  condition  of  a  besieged 
city,  around  which  the  enemy  is  drawing  his  lines  of  circumvallation, 
threatening  to  demolish  her  towers,  dismantle  her  bulwarks,  and  erase 


MISSIONS    THE    CHIEF    EXD    OF    THE    CIIURCII.        f)j:9 

her  palaces,  leaving  lier  brave  sons  no  alternative  but  that  of  raising  the 
desperate  war-cry  of  beleaguered  valor,  "  No  surrender,  no  surrender," 
she  might  all  along  have  been  acting  on  the  offensive  against  "  princi- 
palities and  powers,  and  spiritual  wickedness  in  high  places."  And, 
after  having  made  the  circuit  of  the  globe,  she  might  this  day  have  been 
displajdiig  her  standard,  engraven  with  a  thousand  victories,  in  front  of 
some  of  the  last  strongholds  of  heathenism,  and  rending  the  air  with 
the  conqueror's  shout  of  "unconditional  submission  !" 

Is  it,  then,  too  late  to  retrieve  our  past  eri-ors  and  criminal  neglect  ? 
No ;  blessed  be  God,  it  is  not  yet  too  late.  In  answer  to  the  prayers 
of  a  faithful  remnant  in  this  land,  the  Lord  hath  been  pleased  once  more 
to  regard  with  special  favor  that  branch  of  the  holy  Catholic  Church  to 
which  we  more  immediately  belong.  He  hath  been  pleased  to  look  down 
from  heaven,  and  visit  this  his  vine,  and  the  vineyard  which  his  own 
right  hand  once  planted.  And  now,  if  ever,  is  the  time  to  exhibit  not 
only  the  model  of  a  gospel  Church,  but  a  complete  model  in  full 
operation.  We  are  placed  in  very  different  circumstances  from  .those 
of  the  early  Reformers.  We  have  not,  like  them,  to  begin  aneir.  We 
have  not,  like  them,  to  reckon  up  our  Protestants  by  units.  We  have 
not,  like  them,  to  struggle  on  for  year?.  >n  attempting  to  new-create,  as 
it  were,  a  true  Church  from  the  dark  w^omb  of  Popish  superstition. 
We  have  not,  like  them,  to  resist  unto  blood  for  many  years  more  in 
establishing  the  platform  of  a  pure  ecclesiastical  constitution.  No.  We 
at  once  count  our  hundreds  of  thousands  of  members  united  together 
as  a  Church,  under  one  of  the  noblest,  and  purest,  and  most  apostolic 
constitutions  Avhich  the  world  has  ever  seen.  We  have  the  entire 
machinery  ready-made.  We  have  only  to  arise,  and,  in  the  strength  of 
our  God,  set  all  parts  of  it  in  motion  ;  and  thus,  at  once  and  simulta 
neously,  discharge  all  the  functions  not  merely  of  an  evangelic,  but  ot 
an  evangelistic  Church. 

That  Church,  which,  notwithstanding  many  acknowledged  weaknesses, 
and  even  alleged  deformities,  must  be  regarded  as  our  venerable  parent 
still,  may  already  have  passed  through  the  different  stages  of  existence. 
From  the  feebleness  of  infancy,  she  may  have  speedily  risen  to  the  giant  vig- 
or of  matui-ity,  and,  passing  the  meridian  of  her  power,  may  at  length  have 
sunk  enervated  under  a  load  of  years.  But  what  of  all  this,  if,  in  answer 
to  the  prayer,  "  Come  fl-om  the  four  winds,  O  breath,  and  breathe  upon 
these  dry  bones,  that  they  may  live,"  we  behold  everywhere  a  moving 
and  a  shaking  among  them?  And  if,  already,  we  behold  her  begin- 
ning to  exhibit  cheering  symptoms  of  a  revival — to  exchange  the  hoari- 
ness  and  withered  features  of  age  for  the  greenness  and  blooming  fresh- 
ness of  youth ; — if,  by  the  new  quickening  of  all  her  powers,  she  has 
now  resolved  to  roll  back  the  dark  tide  of  corruption,  which  is  said  to 
have  swollen  to  mountainous  heights  with  the  lapse  of  time,  and  begun 
to  emulate  the  purity  and  ardor  of  her  Reformation  faithfulness,  oh ! 


^50  ALEXANDER    DUFF. 

let  her  not  again  be  guilty  of  committing  the  egregious,  the  fatal,  and, 
it  may  be,  the  irremediable  blunder  and  sin  of  attempting  to  grasp  and 
appropriate  all  religious  rights,  blessings,  and  privileges,  as  if  these  were 
a  special  monopoly  exclusively  intended  for  herself  and  her  children, 
and  not  rather,  what  they  truly  are,  in  the  divine  j)urpose  and  design, 
a  sacred  deposit^  committed  to  her  for  the  enriching  of  the  famished 
nations !  On  the  contrary,  let  her  new-burnish  all  the  lamps  of  her  noble 
institutions  ;  let  her  add  to  these  by  hundreds,  not  to  dispel  the  dai-k- 
ness  within  her  own  territory  alone,  but  for  the  kindling  of  a  flame  .that 
shall  rise,  and  spread,  and  brighten,  till  it  illumine  the  world.  Let  her 
revive  the  golden  age  of  the  Christian  Church,  when  professing  believ- 
ers, not  satislied  with  showers  of  words  that  contrast  so  ominously  with 
barren  practices,  were  ever  prepared  to  testify,  not  only  the  sincerit}-, 
but  the  height  and  depth,  and  length  and  breadth  of  their  gratitude  and 
love  to  the  blessed  Redeemer,  by  submitting  to  the  amplest  sacrifices  of 
comfort,  and  life,  and  all ;  when  the  Christian  treasury  M'as  replenished 
to  overflowing  by  the  free-will  ofterings  of  a  self-denying,  God-honoring 
people  ;  and  when  a  general  assembly  of  apostles  and  prophets  met  at 
Jerusalem  to  select  and  set  apart,  not  the  young  and  inexperienced,  but 
the  greatest  and  most  redoubted  champions,  to  go  forth  and  shake  the 
strongholds  of  error  to  their  basis,  by  sounding  the  gospel  trump  of 
jubilee.  Let  the  Protestant  Church  of  these  lands,  in  this  the  day  of 
her  incipient  revival,  thus  nobly  resolve  to  assume  the  entire  evangelis- 
tic character,  and  implement  the  divine  condition  of  preservation  and 
prosperity,  by  becoming  the  dispenser  of  gospel  blessings,  not  only  to 
the  people  at  home,  but,  as  speedily  as  possible,  to  all  the  unenlightened 
nations  of  the  earth.  And  if  there  be  truth  in  the  Bible ;  if  there  be 
certainty  in  Jehovah's  promises ;  if  there  be  reality  in  past  history,  she 
may  yet  arise  and  shine,  fair  as  the  moon,  bright  as  the  sun,  and  terrible 
as  an  array  with  banners. 

Again,  we  say,  the  field  of  divine  appointment  is  not  Scotland  or 
England,  but  "  the  world'''' — ^the  world  of  "  all  nations.-'  The  jjrayer 
of  divine  inspiration  is,  "  God  bless  and  pity  us,"  not  that  thy  way 
may  be  known  in  all  Britain,  and  thy  saving  health  among  all  its  des- 
titute families,  but  "  that  thy  way  may  be  known  on  all  the  earthy  and 
thy  saving  health  among  all  nations.''''  The  command  of  divine  obli- 
gation is  not,  "  Go  to  the  people  of  Scotland,  or  of  England,"  but,  "  Go 
unto  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature?''  And  if 
we  take  our  counsel  from  those  blind  and  deluded  guides  that  would,  iu 
spite  of  the  Almighty's  aj^pointment,  and  in  dei'ision  of  our  own  pray- 
ers, persuade  us,  altogether,  or  for  an  indefinite  period  onward,  to  abaa 
don  the  real  proper  Bible  field,  and  direct  the  lohole  of  our  time,  and 
strength,  and  resources,  to  home  ;  if,  at  their  anti-scriptural  suggestions, 
we  do  thus  dislocate  the  divine  order  of  proportion  ;  if  we  do  thus  invert 
the  divine  order  of  magnitude ;  if  we  daringly  presume  to  put  that  last, 


MISSIONS    THE    CniEF    END    OP    THE    CHURCH.        6^1 

which  God  hath  j)ut  first ;  to  reckon  that  least  wliich  God  hath  pro- 
nounced greatest,  what  can  we  expect  but  that  he  shall  be  provoked,  in 
sore  displeasure,  to  deprive  us  of  the  precious  dejjosit  of  misappro- 
priated grace,  and  inscribe  "  Ichabod"  on  all  our  towers,  bulwarks  and 
palaces  ?  And  if  he  do,  then,  like  beings  smitten  with  judicial  blind- 
ness, we  may  hold  hundreds  of  meetings,  deliver  thousands  of  speeches, 
and  publish  tens  of  thousands  of  tracts,  and  pamphlets,  and  volumes,  in 
defense  of  our  chartered  rights  and  birth-riglit  liberties ;  and  all  this 
we  may  hail  as  religious  zeal,  and  applaud  as  patriotic  spirit.  But  if 
such  prodigious  activities  be  designed  solely,  or  even  chiefly,  to  concen- 
trate all  hearts,  aftections,  and  energies,  on  the  limited  interests  of  our 
own  land ;  if  such  prodigious  activities  recognize  and  aim  at  no  higher 
terminating  object  than  the  simple  maintenance  and  extension  of  our 
home  institutions,  and  that,  too,  for  the  exclusive  benefit  of  our  own 
peojile,  while,  in  contempt  of  the  counsels  of  the  Eternal,  the  hundreds 
of  millions  of  a  guilty  world  are  coolly  abandoned  to  perish,  oh  !  how 
can  all  this  appear  in  the  sight  of  heaven  as  any  thing  better  than  a 
national  outburst  of  monopolizing  selfishness?  And  how  can  such 
criminal  disregard  of  the  divine  ordinance,  as  resjiects  the  evangeliz- 
ation of  a  lost  world,  fail,  sooner  or  later,  to  draw  down  upon  us  the 
most  dreadful  visitation  of  retributive  vengeance  ? 

Thus  it  was  with  the  Jews  of  old.  Twice,  after  the  creation  and  the 
flood,  was  the  true  religion  universal ;  and  if,  subsequently,  it  was  con- 
tracted in  its  sphere,  and  shut  up  within  the  narrow  bounds  of  a  favored 
locality,  it  was  out  of  mercy  and  loving-kindness  to  man.  It  was,  that 
it  might  not  be  wholly  swept  away  and  lost  in  the  swelling  tide  of  an 
apostacy,  which  threatened  to  rise  and  overwhelm  all  the  kindreds  of 
the  nations.  But,  in  the  eternal  decree,  it  was  ordained :  and  by  the 
mouth  of  prophets  who  spoke  in  successive  ages,  as  they  were  moved  by 
the  Holy  Ghost,  it  was  clearly  Ibretold  that,  in  the  fullness  of  time,  the 
true  religion  should  once  more  become  universal — that  out  of  Jerusalem 
the  law  should  go  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  The  inhabitants  of 
Jerusalem,  however,  resolved  that  beyond  the  bounds  of  Judea,  their 
own  beloved'  home,  it  should  not  go — and  thus  dared  the  Omnipotent 
to  hostile  collision.  And  never,  never  did  any  people  put  forth  efforts, 
of  a  nature  so  absolutely  volcanic,  in  defense  of  their  heaven-ordained 
institutions.  But  it  was  all  in  order  that  they  might  wholly  monopolize 
the  advantages  of  these  to  themselves.  Calamitous  monopoly !  Insane 
opposition !  Pi-esorvation  of  the  types  and  shadows  for  their  own 
exclusive  benefit,  was  the  Jewish  watchword.  Preservation  of  the 
substance  in  new,  expajided,  and  remodeled  forms  for  the  benefit  of  the 
"  world,"  was  the  divine  watchword.  Who  could  for  a  moment  doubt 
which  must,  in  the  end,  prevail  ?  Surely  the  people  that  could  presume 
to  contend,  in  unequal  strife,  with  the  full  thunder  of  Jehovah's  power, 
must  have  been  more  than  ordinarily  infatuated !     And  seized  they 


552  ALEXANDER    DUFF. 

verily  were  with  ^judicial  infatuation,  out  of  which  they  were  not,  and 
would  not,  be  awakened  till  the  tempest  of  divine  wrath  burst  upon 
them  with  exterminating  violence  ! 

And  thus,  assuredly,  will  it  be  with  us,  if  we  do  not  arise  and  speedily 
resolve  to  discharge  all  those  high  catholic  and  evangehstic  functions 
that  devolve  upon  us,  as  a  Protestant  Church,  and  Protestant  nation. 
Or,  shall  we  blindly  and  perversely  detei-mine,  alike  to  scorn  the  coun- 
sels of  heaven,  and  brave  the  Avarnings  of  Providence  ?  Then  let  us 
only  try  the  fatal,  the  disastrous  experiment ! — let  us  try,  if  we  will,  and 
overlook  wholly,  or  in  great  measure,  Heaven's  irrevocable  law,  and  our 
own  pUghted  obligations  to  save  a  lost  world — ^let  us  try,  if  we  will,  and 
maintain  the  warfare  in  defense  of  our  home  mstitutions,  altogether  or 
chiefly,  for  our  own  benefit  and  that  of  our  children — and  as  sure  as 
Jehovah's  jjurposes  are  unchangeable,  our  doom  is  sealed.  By  un- 
paralleled exertions  we  may  arrest,  for  a  season,  the  day  of  national 
calamity.  We  may  retard,  but  shall  not  be  able  finally  to  arrest,  the 
progress  of  national  disorganization  and  decay.  The  chariot- wheels 
of  destruction  may  be  made  to  drag  more  heavily  as  they  roll  along 
the  fatal  declivity.  But  nothing,  nothing  shall  effectually  prevent  the 
ultimate  awful  plunge  of  all  our  institutions — social,  civil,  and  religious 
— into  the  troubled  waters,  where  they  shall  be  dashed  to  pieces,  amid 
rocks  and  quicksands,  in  a  hurricane  of  anarchy ! 

To  avei-t  a  catastrophe  so  fell  and  so  terrible,  O,  let  us  all  imbibe  into 
our  inmost  souls,  the  Church's  heaven-inspired  prayer  :  "  Lord  bless  and 
pity  us,  shine  on  us  with  thy  face."  In  order  to  prove  the  sincerity 
wherewith  the  prayer  is  uttered,  let  us  put  forth  the  mightiest  exertions 
in  the  endeavor  to  repair  all  the  ancient  channels,  and  open  up  hundreds 
of  new  ones,  through  which  the  blessing  may  be  expected  to  descend  in 
refreshing  streams  into  every  congregation,  every  household,  and  every 
heart  in  our  own  land.  But,  O,  let  us  not,  in  blind,  narrow-minded,  and 
anti-Christian  selfishness,  forget  the  final  cause  and  chief  end  for  the 
furtherance  of  which,  the  blessing  must  be  mainly  sought  by  us,  and  for 
the  accomplishment  of  which,  it  must  be  mainly  conferred,  if  conferred 
at  all  by  a  gracious  God — as  emphatically  taught  us  in  the  ever-memora- 
ble words  of  his  own  Holy  Spirit — "  That  so  thy  way  may  be  known 
upon  earthy  and  thy  saving  health  among  all  nations.''''  And  let  not  our 
efforts  in  attempting  to  realize  the  glorious  end  for  which  the  evangelical 
mercies  and  favors  are  avowedly  sought  and  bestowed,  be  either  feeble 
or  disproportionate — lest,  by  deficient  or  contradictory  practices,  our 
prayers  should  prove  so  many  idle  mockeries  of  our  God ;  and  owt 
petitions,  so  many  provocations  to  the  High  and  Holy  One,  to  withdraw 
from  us  altogether  those  privileges  which  we  already  enjoy — if  Ave  enjoy 
them  only  Avith  the  selfish  and  dishonest  intention  of  enriching  ourselves 
by  defrauding  the  Avorld  ! 

Come,  and  let  us,  with  united  heart  and  soul,  adopt  as  our  own,  the 


MISSIONS    THE    CHIEF    EXD    OF    THE    CHURCH.        658 

fervid  language  of  one  who  drank  deep  at  the  fount  of  inspkation — 
one,  whose  presence  once  gladdened  these  shores  and  tended  to  chase  the 
darkness  from  heathen  lands — one,  Avho  is  now  of  the  happy  number 
of  glorified  spirits  that  cease  not  to  chant  their  hallelujahs  before  the 
throne.  And,  while  we  appropriate  his  glowing  words,  as  the  vehicle 
of  our  own  irrepressible  longings — 0,  let  our  hands  be  ever  ready  to 
give  prompt  effect  to  the  utterance  of  the  heart,  when  we  sing — 

"  Waft,  waft,  ye  winds,  his  stoiy ; 

And  you,  ye  waters,  roll ; 
Till,  like  a  sea  of  glory, 

It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole ; 
Till,  o'er  our  ransomed  nature, 

The  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 

In  bliss  return  to  reirn." 


DISCOURSE    XLTI. 

JOHN      CAIRE>,M.A. 

This  Scottish  divine,  born  at  Greenock,  and  ordained  in  1845,  was  but  little 
known  in  tlie  United  States  until  the  somewhat  recent  publication  of  his  feinous 
sermon — "  Religion  in  Common  Life" — preached  before  the  Queen  of  England,  and 
printed  by  her  "  command."  Its  reprint  here  has  gained  for  the  author  quite  a 
reputation.     In  Scotland  he  has  for  years  occupied  an  eminent  position. 

It  was  upon  the  death  of  the  eloquent  Bennie,  in  1846,  which  threw  such  a 
gloom  over  the  Scottish  metropolis,  that  John  Caird,  then  a  "  mere  boy,"  preaching  at 
Newton-on-Ayr,  was  invited  to  take  the  charge  of  Lady  Tester's,  which  the  above 
death  had  vacated.  From  the  first  his  ministrations  were  highly  acceptable  and 
popular,  almost  as  much  so  as  those  of  a  Candlish,  or  Q-uthrie,  or  even  a  Chalmers, 
in  former  days.  It  is  said  that  his  congregations  in  Edinburg,  besides  being  very 
large,  were  remarkable  for  intelligence  and  piety,  and  that  the  sermons  which  they 
heard  evinced  far  more  than  ordinary  grasp  of  mind  and  comprehensiveness  of  view, 
and  a  thorough  insight  both  into  the  book  of  Nature  and  the  book  of  Inspiration. 

The  precarious  state  of  his  health,  however,  led  him  to  desire  a  country  place  of 
more  quiet ;  and  in  the  earlier  part  of  1849  he  accepted  the  pastorate  of  the  parish 
of  Errol,  where  he  has  since  remained. 

The  language  of  ^Mr.  Caird's  discourses  is  flowing,  rich,  and  sparkling,  often 
rising  to  the  higher  styles  of  eloquence.  One  has  styled  him  the  child  of  feeling,  of 
poesy,  of  passion  ;  who  can  not  move  in  paths  which  ordinary  minds  have  traveled, 
but  makes  a  way  for  himself,  "  soaring  on  eagles'  wings,  with  a  graceful  and  majestic 
flight."  The  sale  of  his  "  Religion  in  Common  Life"  has  been  immense  in  Great  Brit- 
ain, yielding  its  author,  it  is  said,  between  five  and  six  thousand  dollars,  which  are  to 
be  applied  to  the  endowment  of  a  Female's  Industrial  School  in  Errol.  This  pro- 
digious circulation  of  the  discourse  is  doubtless  attributable,  in  part,  to  the  circum- 
stances under  which  it  was  preached  ;  but  of  itself  it  possesses  rare  merit ;  and  it 
speaks  well  for  the  good  judgment  of  the  amiable  Queen  that  she  directed  it  to  be 
printed.  It  is  no  secret  that  the  Queen  and  Prince,  after  hearing  it,  read  it  in 
manuscript,  and  expressed  themselves  no  less  impressed  by  the  soundness  of  its 
views,  than  they  had  been  in  listening  to  it  by  its  extraordinary  eloquence.  The 
subject  is  a  most  important  one,  and  it  is  discussed  with  fidelity,  thoroughness, 
and  an  evangelical  spirit,  and  with  an  unusual  force  and  beauty  of  diction.  The 
remark  is  true  that  Mr.  Caird  has  far  more  honor  from  the  able,  manly,  and  faith- 
ful manner  in  which  he  discharged  his  duty,  than  from  the  accident  of  having  had 
such  a  duty  to  discharge. 


RELIGION    IX     COMMON    LIFE.  655 

RELIGIOX    IN    COMMON    LIFE. 

"Not slothful  in  business;  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lorl." — Romans,  xii.  11. 

To  combine  business  with  religion,  to  keep  up  a  spirit  of  serious  piety 
amid  the  stir  and  distraction  of  a  busy  and  active  life — this  is  one  of 
the  most  difficult  j)arts  of  a  Christian's  trial  in  this  world.  It  is  com- 
paratively easy  to  be  religious  in  the  church — to  collect  our  thoughts, 
and  compose  our  feelings,  and  enter,  with  an  appearance  of  propriety 
and  decorum,  into  the  offices  of  religious  worship,  amid  the  quietude 
of  the  Sabbath,  and  within  the  still  and  sacred  precincts  of  the  house  of 
prayer.  But  to  be  religious  in  the  world — to  be  pious,  and  holy,  and 
earnest-minded  in  the  counting-room,  the  manufactory,  the  market- 
place, the  field,  the  farm — to  carry  out  our  good  and  solemn  thoughts 
and  feelings  into  the  throng  and  thoroughfare  of  daily  life — this  is  the 
great  difficulty  of  our  Christian  calling.  No  man  not  lost  to  all  moral  influ- 
ence can  help  feeling  his  worldly  passions  calmed,  and  some  measure  of  se- 
riousness stealing  over  his  mind,  when  engaged  in  the  performance  of  the 
more  awful  and  sacred  rites  of  religion  ;  but  the  atmosphere  of  the  domestic 
circle,  the  exchange,  the  street,  the  city's  throng,  amid  coarse  Avork  and 
cankering  cares  and  toils,  is  a  very  different  atmosphere  from  that  of  a  (;om- 
munion-table.  Passing  from  the  one  to  the  other  has  often  seemed  as 
if  the  sudden  transition  from  a  tropical  to  a  polar  clfmate — from  balmy 
warmth  and  sunshine  to  murky  mist  and  freezing  cold.  And  it  appears 
sometimes  as  difficult  to  maintain  the  strength  and  steadfastness  of 
religious  principle  and  feeling,  when  we  go  forth  from  the  church  into 
the  world,  as  it  would  be  to  preserve  an  exotic  alive  in  the  open  air  in 
winter,  or  to  keep  the  lamp  that  burns  steadily  within  doors  from  being 
blown  out  if  you  take  it  abroad  unsheltered  from  the  wind. 

So  great,  so  all  but  insuperable,  has  this  difficulty  ever  appeared  to 
men,  that  it  is  but  few  who  set  themselves  honestly  and  resolutely  to 
the  effort  to  overcome  it.  The  great  majority,  by  various  shifts  or  ex- 
pedients, evade  the  hard  task  of  being  good  and  holy,  at  once  in  the 
church  and  in  the  world. 

In  ancient  times,  for  instance,  it  was,  as  we  all  know,  the  not  uncom- 
mon expedient  among  devout  persons — men  deeply  impressed  with  the 
thought  of  an  eternal  world,  and  the  necessity  of  preparing  for  it,  but 
distracted  by  the  effort  to  attend  to  the  duties  of  religion  amid  the 
business  and  temptations  of  secular  life — to  fly  the  world  altogether, 
and,  abandoning  society  and  all  social  claims,  to  betake  themselves 
to  some  hermit  solitude,  some  quiet  and  cloistered  retreat,  where,  as 
they  fondly  deemed,  "  the  world  forgetting,  by  the  world  forgot," 
their  work  would  become  worship,  and  life  be  uninterruptedly  devoted 
to  the  cultivation  of  religion  in  the  soul.  In  our  own  day  the  more  com- 
mon  device,  where  religion  and  the  world  conflict,  is  not  that  of  the 


656  JOHN    CAIRD 

superstitions  recluse,  but  one  even  much  less  safe  and  venial.  Keen  for 
this  world,  yet  not  willing  to  lose  all  hold  on  the  next — eager  for  the 
advantages  of  time,  yet  not  prepared  to  abandon  all  religion  and  stand 
by  the  consequences,  there  is  a  very  numerous  class  who  attempt  to 
compromise  the  matter — to  treat  religion  and  the  woi'ld  like  two  credit- 
ors whose  claims  can  not  both  be  liquidated — ^by  comj^ounding  with  each 
for  a  share — though  in  this  case  a  most  disproportionate  share — of  their 
time  and  thought.  "  Every  thing  in  its  own  place !"  is  the  tacit  reflec- 
tion of  such  men.  "  Prayers,  sermons,  holy  reading" — they  will  scarcely 
venture  to  add,  "  God" — "  are  for  Sundays ;  but  week-days  are  for  the 
sober  business,  the  real,  practical  aifairs  of  life.  Enough  if  we  give  the 
Sunday  to  our  religious  duties ;  we  can  not  be  always  praying  and  read- 
ing the  Bible.  Well  enough  for  clergymen  and  good  persons  who  have 
nothing  else  to  do,  to  attend  to  religion  through  the  week :  but  for  us, 
we  have  other  and  more  practical  matters  to  mind."  And  so  the  result 
is,  that  religion  is  made  altogether  a  Sunday  thing — a  robe  too  fine  for 
common  wear,  but  taken  out  solemnly  on  state  occasions,  and  solemnly 
put  past  when  the  state  occasion  is  over.  Like  an  idler  in  a  crowded 
thoroughfa-re,  religion  is  jostled  aside  in  the  daily  throng  of  life,  as  if  it 
had  no  business  there.  Ilike  a  needful,  yet  disagreeable  medicine,  mec 
will  be  content  to  take  it  now  and  then  for  their  souls'  health  ;  but 
they  can  not,  and  will  not,  make  it  their  daily  fare — the  substantial  and 
staple  nutriment  of  their  life  and  being. 

Now,  you  will  observe  that  the  idea  of  religion  which  is  set  forth  in 
the  text,  as  elsewhere  in  Scripture,  is  quite  different  from  any  of  these 
notions.  The  text  speaks  as  if  the  most  diligent  attention  to  our  worldly 
business  were  not  by  any  means  incompatible  with  spirituality  of  mind 
and  serious  devotion  to  the  service  of  God.  It  seems  to  imply  that 
religion  is  not  so  much  a  duty,  as  a  something  that  has  to  do  with  ail 
duties — not  a  tax  to  be  paid  periodically  and  got  rid  of  at  other  times, 
but  a  ceaseless,  all-pervading,  inexhaustible  tribute  to  him,  who  is  not 
only  the  object  of  religious  worship,  but  the  end  of  our  very  life  and 
being.  It  suggests  to  us  the  idea  that  i:)iety  is  not  for  Sundays  only, 
but  for  all  days ;  that  spirituality  of  mind  is  not  appropriate  to  one  set 
of  actions  and  an  impertinence  and  intrusion  with  reference  to  others, 
but  hke  the  act  of  breathing,  like  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  like  the 
silent  growth  of  the  stature,  a  process  that  may  be  going  on  simulta- 
neously with  all  our  actions — when  we  are  busiest  as  when  we  are  idlest ; 
in  the  church,  in  the  world,  in  solitude,  in  society ;  in  our  grief  and  in 
our  gladness ;  in  our  toil  and  in  our  rest ;  sleeping,  waking  ;  by  day,  by 
night — amid  all  the  engagements  and  exigences  of  life.  For  you  per- 
ceive that  in  one  breath — as  duties  not  only  not  incompatible,  but  neces- 
sarily and  inseparably  blended  with  each  other — the  text  exhorts  us  to 
be  at  once  "  not  slothful  in  business,"  and  "  fervent  in  si)irit,  serving 
the  Lord."     I  shall  now  attempt  to  prove  and  illustrate  the  idea  thus 


RELIGION    IN     COMMON    LIFE.  657 

suggested  to  us — the  compatibility  of  Religion  -u-ith  the  business  of  Com- 
mon Life. 

We  have,  then,  Scripture  authority  for  asserting  that  it  is  not  impos- 
sible to  live  a  life  of  fervent  piety  amid  the  most  engrossing  pursuits  and 
engagements  of  the  world.  We  are  to  make  good  this  conception  of 
life — that  the  hardest-wrought  man  of  trade,  or  commerce,  or  handi- 
craft, who  spends  his  days  "'mid  dusky  lane  or  wrangling  marl,"  may 
yet  be  the  most  holy  and  spiritually-minded.  We  need  not  quit  the 
world  and  abandon  its  busy  pursuits  in  order  to  live  near  to  God — 

"  We  need  not  bid,  for  cloistered  cell, 
Our  neighbor  and  our  work  farewell : 
The  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
May  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask — 
Eoom  to  deny  ourselves,  a  road 
To  bring  us,  daih',  nearer  God." 

It  is  true  indeed  that,  if  in  no  other  way  could  we  prepare  for  an 
eternal  world  than  by  retiring  from  the  business  and  cares  of  this  world, 
so  momentous  are  the  interests  involved  in  religion,  that  no  wise  man 
should  hesitate  to  submit  to  the  sacrifice.  Life  here  is  but  a  span.  Life 
hereafter  is  forever.  A  lifetime  of  solitude,  hardship,  penury,  were  all 
too  slight  a  price  to  pay,  if  need  be,  for  an  eternity  of  bliss :  and  the 
results  of  our  most  incessant  toil  and  application  to  the  world's  business, 
could  they  secure  for  us  the  highest  prizes  of  earthly  ambition,  Avould 
be  purchased  at  a  tremendous  cost,  if  they  stole  away  from  us  the  only 
tinic  in  which  we  could  prepare  to  meet  our  God — if  they  left  us  at  last 
rich,  gay,  honored,  possessed  of  every  thing  the  world  holds  dear,  but 
to  face  an  eternity  undone.  If,  therefore,  in  no  way  could  you  combine 
business  and  religion,  it  would  indeed  be,  not  fanaticism,  but  most  sober 
wisdom  and  prudence,  to  let  the  world's  business  come  to  a  stand.  It 
would  be  the  duty  of  the  mechanic,  the  man  of  business,  the  statesman, 
the  scholar — men  of  every  secular  calling — without  a  moment's  delay  to 
leave  vacant  and  silent  the  familiar  scenes  of  their  toils — to  turn  life  into 
a  perpetual  Sabbath,  and  betake  themselves,  one  and  all,  to  an  existence 
of  ceaseless -prayer,  and  unbroken  contemplation,  and  devout  care  of 
the  soul. 

But  the  very  impossibility  of  such  a  sacrifice  proves  that  no  such 
sacrifice  is  demanded.  He  who  rules  the  Avorld  is  no  arbitrary  tyrant 
prescribing  impracticable  labors.  In  the  material  world  there  are  no 
conflicting  laws  ;  and  no  more,  we  may  rest  assured,  are  there  established 
in  the  moral  world,  any  two  laws,  one  or  the  other  of  which  must  needs 
be  disobeyed.  Now  one  thing  is  certain,  that  there  is  in  the  moral 
world  a  law  of  labor.  Secular  work,  in  all  cases  a  duty,  is,  in  most 
cases,  a  necessity.  God  might  have  made  us  independent  of  work.  He 
might  have  nourished  us  like  "  the  fowls  of  the  air  and  the  lilies  of  the 

4-2 


658  JOHN     CAIED. 

field,"  whicli  "  toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin."  He  might  have  rained 
down  our  daily  food,  like  the  manna  of  old,  from  heaven,  or  caused 
nature  to  yield  it  in  unsolicited  profusion  to  all,  and  so  set  us  free  to  a 
life  of  devotion.  But,  forasmuch  as  he  has  not  done  so — forasmuch  as 
he  has  so  constituted  us  that  without  work  we  can  not  eat,  that  if  men 
ceased  for  a  single  day  to  labor,  the  machinery  of  life  would  come  to  a 
stand,  and  arrest  bo  laid  on  science,  civilization,  and  progress — on  every 
thing  that  is  conducive  to  the  welflire  of  man  in  the  present  life — we  may 
safely  conclude  that  religion,  which  is  also  good  for  man,  which  is  indeed, 
the  supreme  good  of  man,  is  not  inconsistent  with  hard  work.  It  must 
undoubtedly  be  the  design  of  our  gracious  God  that  all  this  toil  for  the 
supply  of  our  physical  necessities — this  incessant  occupation  amid  the 
things  that  perish,  shall  be  no  obstrution,  but  rather  a  help  to  our 
spiritual  life.  The  weight  of  a  clock  seems  a  heavy  drag  on  the  delicate 
movements  of  its  machinery;  but  so  far  from  ai-resting  or  impeding 
those  movements,  it  is  indispensable  to  their  steadiness,  balance,  ac- 
curacy :  there  must  be  some  analogous  action  of  what  seems  the  clog  and 
drag-weight  of  worldly  work  on  the  finer  movements  of  man's  spiritual 
being  The  planets  in  the  heavens  have  a  two-fold  motion,  in  their 
orbits  and  on  their  axes — the  one  motion  not  interfering,  but  carried  on 
simultaneously,  and  in  perfect  harmony,  with  the  other :  so  must  it  be 
that  man's  two-fold  activities — round  the  heavenly  and  the  earthly 
center,  disturb  not,  nor  jar  with,  each  other.  Pie  who  diligently  dis- 
charges the  duties  of  the  earthly,  may  not  less  sedulously — nay,  at  the 
same  moment — fulfill  those  of  the  heavenly  sphere  ;  at  once  "  dihgent  in 
business"  and  "  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord." 

And  that  this  is  so — that  this  blending  of  religion  with  the  work 
of  common  life  is  not  imj)Ossible,  you  will  readily  perceive,  if  you  con- 
sider for  a  moment  what,  according  to  the  right  and  proper  notion  of  it, 
Religion  is.     "What  do  we  mean  by  ".Religion  ?" 

Religion  may  be  viewed  in  two  aspects.  It  is  a  Scieiice,  and  it  is  an 
Art ;  in  other  words,  a  system  of  doctrines  to  be  believed,  and  a  system 
of  duties  to  be  done.  View  it  in  either  light,  and  the  point  we  are 
insisting  on  may,  without  difficulty,  be  made  good.  View  it  as  a 
Science — ^as  truth  to  be  understood  and  believed.  If  religious  truth 
were,  like  many  kinds  of  secular  truth,  hard,  intricate,  abstruse,  de- 
manding for  its  study,  not  only  the  highest  order  of  intellect,  but  all 
the  resources  of  education,  books,  learned  leisure,  then  indeed  to  most 
men,  the  blending  of  religion  with  the  necessary  avocations  of  life  would 
be  an  impossibility.  In  that  case  it  would  be  sufficient  excuse  for  ir- 
religion  to  plead,  "  My  lot  in  life  is  inevitably  one  of  incessant  care  and 
toil,  of  busy,  anxious  thought,  and  wearing  work.  Inextricably  involved, 
every  day  and  hour  as  I  am,  in  the  world's  business,  how  is  it  possible  for 
me  to  devote  myself  to  this  high  and  abstract  science  ?"  If  religion  were 
thus,  like  the  higher  mathematics  or  metaphysics,  a  science  based  on 


RELIGION     IN     COMMOX     LIFE.  659 

the  most  recondite  and  elaborate  reasonings,  capable  of  being  mastered 
only  by  the  acutest  minds,  after  years  of  study  and  laborious  investiga- 
tion, then  might  it  well  be  urged  by  many  an  unlettered  man  of  toil,  "  I 
am  no  scholar — I  have  no  head  to  comprehend  these  hard  dogmas  and 
doctrines.  Learning  and  religion  are,  no  doubt,  tine  things,  but  they- 
are  not  for  humble  and  hard-wrought  folk  like  me  !"  In  this  ease,  in- 
deed, the  gospel  would  be  no  gospel  at  all — no  good  news  of  heavenly 
love  and  mercy  to  the  whole  sin-ruined  race  of  man,  but  only  a  gospel  for 
scholars — a  religion,  like  the  ancient  philosophies,  for  a  scanty  minority, 
clever  enough  to  grasp  its  principles,  and  set  free  from  active  business 
to  devote  themselves  to  the  development  and  discussion  of  its  doctrines. 

But  the  gospel  is  no  such  system  of  high  and  abstract  truth.  The 
salvation  it  oifers  is  not  the  prize  of  a  lofty  intellect,  but  of  a  lowly  heart.  ^ 
The  mirror  in  which  its  grand  truths  are  reflected  is  not  a  mind  of  calm 
and  philosophic  abstraction,  but  a  heart  of  earnest  purity.  Its  light 
shines  best  and  fullest,  not  on  a  life  undisturbed  by  business,  but  on  a 
soul  unstained  by  sin.  The  religion  of  Christ,  while  it  afl^brds  scope  for 
the  loftiest  intellect  in  the  contemplation  and  develo})ment  of  its  glorious 
truths,  is  yet,  in  the  exquisite  simplicity  of  its  essential  facts  and  prin- 
ciples, patent  to  the  simplest  mind.  Rude,  untutored,  toil-worn  you  may 
be,  but  if  you  have  wit  enough  to  guide  you  in  the  commonest  round 
of  daily  toil,  you  have  wit  enough  to  learn  to  be  saved.  The  truth  as  it 
is  in  Jesus,  Avhile,  in  one  view  of  it,  so  profound  that  the  highest  archan- 
gel's intellect  may  be  lost  in  the  contemplation  of  its  mysterious  depths, 
is  yet,  in  another,  so  simple  that  the  lisping  babe  at  a  mother's  knee  may 
learn  its  meaning. 

Again  :  view  religion  as  an  Art,  and  in  this  light,  too,  its  compatibility 
with  a  busy  and  active  life  in  the  world,  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  perceive. 
For  religion  as  an  art  difl:ers  from  secular  arts  in  this  respect,  that  it  may 
he  practiced  simultaneously  with  other  artS: — with  all  other  work  and 
occupation  in  Avhich  Ave  may  be  engaged.  A  man  can  not  be  studying 
architecture  and  law  at  the  same  time.  The  medical  practitioner  can  not 
be  engaged  with  his  patients,  and  at  the  same  time  planning  houses 
or  building  bridges — practicing,  in  other  words,  both  medicine  and 
engineering  at  one  and  the  same  moment.  The  practice  of  one  secular 
art  excludes  for  the  time  the  practice  of  other  secular  arts.  But  not  so 
with  the  art  of  religion.  This  is  the  universal  art,  the  common,  all- 
embracing  profession.  It  belongs  to  no  one  set  of  functionaries,  to  no 
special  class  of  men.  Statesman,  soldier,  lawyer,  physician,  poet,  painter, 
tradesman,  farmer — men  of  every  craft  and  calling  in  life — may,  Avhile 
in  the  actual  discharge  of  the  duties  of  their  varied  avocations,  be  yet, 
at  the  same  moment,  discharging  the  duties  of  a  higher  and  nobler  voca- 
tion— practicing  the  art  of  a  Christian.  Secular  arts,  in  most  cases, 
demand  of  him  who  would  attain  to  eminence  in  any  one  of  thera, 
an  almost  exclusive  devotion  of  time,  and  thought,  and  toil.     The  most 


660  JOHN     CAIRD.  ' 

versatile  genius  can  seldom  be  master  of  more  than  one  art ;  and  for 
the  great  majority  the  only  calling  must  be  that  by  which  they  can  earn 
their  daily  bread.  Demand  of  the  poor  tradesman  or  peasant,  whose 
every  hour  is  absorbed  in  the  struggle  to  earn  a  competency  for  himself 
and  his  family,  that  he  shall  be  also  a  thorough  proficient  in  the  art 
of  the  physician,  or  lawyer,  or  sculptor,  and  you  demand  an  impossibility. 
If  religion  were  an  art  such  as  these,  few  indeed  could  learn  it.  The 
two  admonitions,  "  Be  diligent  in  business,"  and  "  Be  fervent  in  spirit, 
serving  the  Lord,"  Avould  be  reciprocally  destructive. 

But  religion  is  no  such  art,  for  it  is  the  art  of  heing,  and  of  doing, 
good:  to  be  an  adept  in  it,  is  to  become  just,  truthful,  sincere,  self- 
denied,  gentle,  forbearing,  pure  in  word  and  thought  and  deed.  And  the 
school  for  learning  this  art  is  not  the  closet,  but  the  world — not  some 
hallowed  spot  where  religion  is  taught,  and  proficients,  when  duly 
trained,  are  sent  forth  into  the  world — but  the  world  itself — the  coarse, 
profane,  common  world,  with  its  cares  and  temptations,  its  rivalries  and 
competitions,  its  hourly,  ever-recurring  trials  of  temper  and  character. 
This  is,  therefore,  an  art  which  all  can  practice,  and  for  which  every  pro- 
fession and  calling,  the  busiest  and  most  absorbing,  aflTord  scope  and  dis- 
cipline. When  a  child  is  learning  to  write,  it  matters  not  of  what  words 
the  copy  set  to  him  is  composed,  the  thing  desired  beirtg  that  whatever 
he  writes,  he  learn  to  write  well.  When  a  man  is  learning  to  be  a 
Christian,  it  matters  not  what  his  particular  work  in  life  may  be ;  the 
work  he  does  is  but  the  copy-line  set  to  him ;  the  main  thing  to  be  con- 
sidered is  that  he  learn  to  live  well.  The  form  is  nothing,  the  execution 
is  every  thing.  It  is  true  indeed  that  prayer,  holy  reading,  meditation, 
the  solemnities  and  services  of  the  Church  are  necessary  to  religion,  and 
that  these  can  be  practiced  only  apart  from  the  work  of  secular  life. 
But  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  all  such  holy  exercises  do  not  ter- 
minate in  themselves.  They  are  but  steps  in  the  ladder  of  heaven,  good 
only  as  they  help  us  to  climb.  They  are  the  irrigation  and  enriching  of 
the  spiritual  soil — worse  than  useless  if  the  crop  be  not  more  abundant. 
They  are,  in  short,  but  means  to  an  end — ^good,  only  in  so  far  as  they 
help  us  to  be  good  and  do  good — to  glorify  God  and  do  good  to  man ; 
and  that  end  can  perhaps  be  best  attained  by  him  whose  life  is  a  busy 
one,  whose  avocations  bear  him  daily  into  contact  with  his  fellows,  into 
the  intercourse  of  society,  into  the  heart  of  the  world.  No  man  can  be 
a  thorough  proficient  in  navigation  who  has  never  been  at  sea,  though 
he  may  learn  the  theory  of  it  at  home.  No  man  can  become  a  soldier 
by  studying  books  on  military  tactics  in  his  closet :  he  must  in  actual 
service  acquire  those  habits  of  coolness,  courage,  discipline,  address, 
rapid  combination,  without  which  the  most  learned  in  the  theory  of 
strategy  or  engineering  will  be  but  a  school-boy  soldier  after  all.  And, 
in  the  same  way,  a  man  in  solitude  and  study  may  become  a  most  learned 
theologian,  or  may  train  himself  into  the  timid,  effemuiate  j^iety  of  what 


RELIGION     IN     COMMON     LIFE.  GGl 

is  technically  called  "  the  religious  life."  But  never,  in  the  highest  and 
holiest  sense,  can  he  become  a  religious  man  until  he  has  acquired  those 
habits  of  daily  scli-dcnial,  of  resistance  to  temptation,  of  kindness,  gen- 
tleness, humility,  sympathy,  Active  beneficence,  which  are  to  be  acquired 
only  in  daily  contact  with  mankind.  Tell  us  not,  then,  that  the  man  of 
business,  the  bustling  tradesman,  the  toil-worn  laborer,  has  little  or  no 
time  to  attend  to  religion.  As  well  tell  us  that  the  pilot  amid  the  winds 
and  storms,  has  no  leisure  to  attend  to  navigation — or  the  general,  on  the 
field  of  battle,  to  the  art  of  war !  Where  icill  he  attend  to  it  ?  Re- 
ligion is  not  a  j^erpetuil  moping  over  good  books — religion  is  not  even 
prayer,  praise,  holy  ordinances  ;  these  are  necessary  to  religion — no  man 
can  be  religious  without  them.  But  religion,  I  repeat,  is,  mainly  and 
chiefly  the  glorifying  God  amid  the  duties  and  trials  of  the  world  ;  the 
guiding  our  course  amid  the  adverse  winds  and  currents  of  temptation, 
by  the  sar-light  of  duty  and  the  compass  of  divine  truth  ;  the  bearing  us 
manfully,  wisely,  courageously,  for  the  honor  of  Christ,  our  great  Leader, 
in  the  conflict  of  life.  Away,  then,  AAdth  the  notion  that  ministers  and 
devotees  may  be  religious,  but  that  a  religious  and  holy  life  is  impracti- 
cable in  the  rough  and  busy  world !  Nay  rather,  believe  me,  that  is  the 
proper  scene,  the  peculiar  and  appropriate  field  for  religion — the  place  in 
which  to  prove  that  piety  is  not  a  dream  of  Sundays  and  solitary  hours ; 
that  it  can  bear  the  light  of  day ;  that  it  can  wear  well  amid  the  rough 
jostlings,  the  hard  struggles,  the  coarse  contacts  of  common  life — the 
place,  in  one  word,  to  prove  how  possible  it  is  for  a  man  to  be  at  once  not 
"  slothful  in  business,"  and  "  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord." 

Another  consideration  which  I  shall  adduce  in  support  of  the  assertion 
that  it  is  not  impossible  to  blend  religion  with  the  business  of  common 
life,  is  this :  that  religion  consists  not  so  much  in  doing  spiritual  or 
sacred  acts,  as  in  doing  secular  acts  from  a  sacred  or  spiritucd  motive. 

There  is  a  very  common  tendency  in  our  minds  to  classify  actions  ac- 
cording to  their  outwai-d  form,  rather  than  according  to  the  spirit  or 
motive  which  pervades  them.  Literature  is  sometimes  arbitrarily  divided 
into  "sacred"  and  "profime"  literature,  history  into  "sacred"  and  "pro- 
fane" history — in  which  classification  the  term  "  profone"  is  applied,  not  to 
what  is  bad  or  unholy,  but  to  every  thing  that  is  not  technically  sacred  or 
religious — to  all  literature  that  does  not  treat  of  religious  doctrines  and 
duties,  and  to  all  history  save  Church  history.  And  we  are  very  apt  to  ap- 
l)ly  the  same  principle  to  actions.  Thus,  in  many  pious  minds  there  is  a  ten- 
dency to  regard  all  the  actions  of  common  life  as  so  much — an  unfortunate 
necessity — lost  to  rehgion.  Prayer,  the  reading  of  the  liible  and  devotional 
books,  public  worship — and  buying,  selling,  digging,  sowing,  bartering, 
money-making,  are  separated  into  two  distinct,  and  almost  hostile,  catego- 
ries. The  religious  heart  and  sympathies  are  thrown  entirely  into  the  tur- 
mcr,  and  the  latter  are  barely  tolerated  as  a  bondage  incident  to  our  fallen 
state,  but  almost  of  necessity  tendhig  to  turn  aside  the  heart  from  God. 


662  JOHN    CAIRD. 

But  what  God  hath  cleansed,  why  should  we  call  common  or  unclean  ? 
The  tendency  in  question,  though  founded  on  right  feeling,  is  surely  a 
mistaken  one.  For  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  moral  qualities  reside 
not  in  actions,  but  in  the  agent  who  performs  them,  and  that  it  is  the 
spirit  or  motive  from  which  we  do  any  work  that  constitu^tes  it  base  or 
noble,  worldly  or  spiritual,  secular  or  sacred.  The  actions  of  an  auto- 
maton may  be  outwardly  the  same  as  those  of  a  moral  agent,  but  who 
attributes  to  them  goodness  or  badness  ?  A  musical  instrument  may  dis- 
cuss sacred  melodies  better  than  the  holiest  lips  can  sing  them,  but  who 
thinks  of  commending  it  for  its  piety  ?  It  is  the  same  with  actions  as 
with  places.  Just  as  no  spot  or  scene  on  earth  is  in  itself  more  or  less 
holy  than  another ;  but  the  presence  of  a  holy  heart  may  hallow — of  a 
base  one,  desecrate— any  place  where  it  dwells  ;  so  with  actions.  Many 
actions,  materially  great  and  noble,  may  yet,  because  of  the  s})irit  that 
prompts  and  pervades  them,  be  really  ignoble  and  mean ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  many  actions,  externally  mean  and  lowly,  may,  because  of 
the  state  of  his  heart  who  does  them,  be  truly  exalted  and  honorable. 
It  is  possible  to  fill  the  highest  station  on  earth,  and  go  through  the 
actions  pertaining  to  it  in  a  spirit  that  degrades  all  its  dignities,  and  ren- 
ders all  its  high  and  courtly  doings  essentially  vulgar  and  mean.  And 
it  is  no  mere  sentimentality  to  say,  that  there  may  dwell  in  a  lowly  me- 
chanic's or  household  servant's  breast  a  spirit  that  dignifies  the  coarsest 
toils  and  "  renders  drudgery  divine."  Plerod  of  old  was  a  slave,  though 
he  sat  upon  a  throne ;  but  who  will  say  that  the  work  of  the  carpenter's 
shop  at  Nazareth  was  not  noble  and  kingly  work  indeed  ? 

And  as  the  mind  constitutes  high  or  low,  so  secular  or  spiritual.  A 
life  spent  amid  holy  things  may  be  intensely  secular ;  a  life,  the  iBost 
of  which  is  passed  in  the  thick  and  throng  of  the  world,  may  be  holy  and 
divine.  A  minister,  for  instance,  preaching,  praying,  ever  speaking  holy 
words  and  performing  sacred  acts,  may  be  all  the  while  doing  actions  no 
more  holy  than  those  of  a  printer  who  prints  Bibles,  or  of  the  bookseller 
who  sells  them  ;  for,  in  both  cases  alike,  the  whole  affair  may  be  nothing 
more  than  a  trade.  Nay,  the  comparison  tells  Avorse  for  the  former,  for 
the  secular  trade  is  innocent  and  commendable,  but  the  trade  Avhich 
traffics  and  tampers  with  holy  things  is,  beneath  all  its  mock  solemnity, 
"  earthly,  sensual,  devilish."  So,  to  adduce  one  other  example,  the  pub- 
lic worship  of  God  is  holy  work :  no  man  can  be  living  a  holy  life  who 
neglects  it.  But  the  public  worship  of  God  may  be — and  with  multi- 
tudes who  frequent  our  churches  is — degraded  into  work  most  worldly, 
most  unholy,  most  distasteful  to  the  great  Object  of  our  homage.  He 
"  to  whom  all  hearts  be  open,  all  desires  kno^v^l,"  discerns  how  many  of 
you  have  come  hither  to-d^y  from  the  earnest  desire  to  hold  communion 
with  the  Father  of  spirits,  to  open  your  hearts  to  him,  to  unburden 
yourselves  in  his  loving  presence,  of  the  cares  and  crosses  that  have 
been  pressing  hard  upon  you  through  the  past  week,  and  by  common 


RELIGION     IN     COMMON     LIFE,  gg3 

prayer  and  praise,  and  the  hearing  of  his  holy  Word,  to  gain  fresh  in- 
centive and  energy  for  the  prosecution  of  his  Avork  in  the  world  ;  and 
how  many,  on  the  other  hand,  from  no  better  motive,  perhaps,  than  cu- 
riosity or  old  habit,  or  regard  to  decency  and  respectability,  or  the  mere 
desire  to  get  rid  of  yourselves  and  pass  a  vacant  hour  that  would  hang 
heavy  on  your  hands.  And  who  can  doubt  that,  where  such  motives  as 
these  prevail,  to  the  piercing,  unerring  inspection  of  him  whom  out- 
M\ardly  we  seem  to  reverence,  not  the  market-place,  the  exchange,  the 
counting-room,  is  a  place  more  intensely  secular — not  the  most  reckless 
and  riotous  festivity,  a  scene  of  more  unhallowed  levity,  than  is  pre- 
sented by  the  house  of  prayer  ? 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  carry  holy  principles  with  you  into  the  world, 
and  the  world  will  become  hallowed  by  their  presence.  A  Christ-like 
spirit  will  Christianize  every  thing  it  touches.  A  meek  heart,  in  which 
the  altar-fire  of  love  to  God  is  burning,  will  lay  hold  of  the  commonest, 
rudest  things  in  life,  and  transmute  them,  Uke  coarse  fuel  at  the  touch  ot 
fire,  into  a  pure  and  holy  flame.  Religion  in  the  soul  ^nll  make  all  the 
work  and  toil  of  life — its  gains  and  losses,  friendships,  rivalries,  compe- 
titions, its  manifold  incidents  and  events — the  means  of  religious  advance- 
ment. Marble  or  coarse  clay,  it  matters  not  much  with  which  of  these 
the-artist  works,  the  touch  of  genius  transforms  the  coarser  material  into 
beauty,  and  lends  to  the  finer  a  value  it  never  had  before.  Lofty  oi- 
lowly,  rude  or  refined  as  life's  work  to  us  may  be,  it  will  become  to  a 
holy  mind  only  the  material  for  an  infinitely  nobler  than  all  the  creations 
of  genius — the  image  of  God  in  the  soul.  To  spiritualize  what  is  mate- 
rial, to  Christianize  what  is  secular — this  is  the  noble  achievement  of 
Christian  principle.  If  you  are  a  sincere  Christian,  it  will  be  your  great 
desire,  by  God's  grace,  to  make  every  gift,  talent,  occupation  of  life, 
every  word  you  speak,  every  action  you  do,  subservient  to  Christian 
motive.  Your  conversation  may  not  always — nay,  may  seldom,  save 
with  intimate  friends — consist  of  formally  religious  words;  you  may 
perhaps  shrink  from  the  introduction  of  religious  topics  in  general  soci- 
ety: but  it  demands  a  less  amount  of  Christian  eftbrt  occasionally  to 
speak  religious  w^ords,  than  to  infuse  the  spirit  of  religion  into  all  our 
words ;  and  if  the  whole  tenor  of  your  common  talk  be  pervaded  by  a 
spirit  of  ])iety,  gentleness,  earnestness,  sincerity,  it  will  be  Christian  con- 
versation not  the  less.  If  God  has  endowed  you  with  intellectual  gifts, 
it  may  be  well  if  you  directly  devote  them  to  his  service  in  the  rehgious 
instruction  of  others;  but  a  man  may  be  a  Christian  thinker  and  writer 
as  much  when  giA'ing  to  science,  or  history,  or  biography,  or  }>oetiy,  a 
Christian  tone  and  spirit,  as  when  composing  sermons  or  writing  hymns. 
To  promote  the  cause  of  Christ  directly,  by  fuithering  every  religious 
and  missionary  enterprise  at  home  and  abroad,  is  undoubtedly  your 
duty;  but  remember  that  your  duty  terminates  not  when  you  have  done 
all  this,  for  you  may  promote  Christ's  cause  even  still  more  efiectually 


CG4  JOHN     CAIRD. 

■when  in  your  daily  demeanor — in  tlie  family,  in  society,  in  your  business 
transactions,  in  all  your  common  intercourse  with  the  world — you  are 
diffusing  the  influexce  of  Christian  principle  around  you  by  the  silent  elo- 
quence of  a  holy  life.  Rise  superior,  in  Christ's  strength,  to  all  equiv- 
ocal j^ractices  and  advantages  in  trade ;  shrink  from  every  approach  to 
meanness  or  dishonesty ;  let  your  eye,  fixed  on  a  reward  before  which 
earthly  wealth  grows  dim,  beam  with  honor ;  let  the  thought  of  God 
make  you  self-restrained,  temperate,  watchful  over  speech  and  conduct ; 
let  the  abiding  sense  of  Christ's  redeeming  love  to  you  make  you  gentle, 
self-denied,  kind,  and  loving  to  all  around  you ;  then  indeed  will  your 
secular  life  become  spiritualized,  while,  at  the  same  time,  your  spiritual 
life  will  grow  more  fervent ;  then  not  only  will  your  prayers  become 
more  devout,  but  when  the  knee  bends  not,  and  the  lip  is  silent,  the  life 
in  its  heavenward  tone  will  "  pray  without  ceasing ;"  then  from  amid 
the  roar  and  din  of  earthly  toil,  the  ear  of  God  will  hear  the  sweetest 
anthems  rising ;  then,  fuially,  will  your  daily  experience  prove,  that  it  is 
no  high  and  unattainable  elevation  of  virtue,  but  a  simple  and  natural 
thing  to  Avhich  the  text  points,  when  it  bids  us  be  both  "  diligent  in 
business"  and  "fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord." 

As  a  last  illustration  of  the  possibility  of  blending  religion  with  the 
business  of  common  life,  let  me  call  your  attention  to  what  may  be  de- 
scribed as  the  Mind''s  power  of  acting  on  Latent  Principles. 

In  order  to  live  a  religious  life  in  the  world,  every  action  must  be 
governed  by  religious  motives.  But  in  making  this  assertion,  it  is  not, 
by  any  means,  implied,  that  in  all  the  familiar  actions  of  our  daily  life 
religion  must  form  a  direct  and  conscious  object  of  thought.  To  be 
always  thinking  of  God,  and  Christ,  and  eternity  amid  our  worldly 
work  ;  and  however  busy,  eager,  interested  we  may  be  in  the  special 
business  before  us,  to  have  religious  ideas,  doctrines,  beliefs,  present  to 
the  mind — this  is  simply  impossible.  The  mind  can  no  more  consciously 
think  of  heaven  and  earth  at  the  same  moment  than  the  body  can  he  in 
heaven  and  earth  at  the  same  moment.  Moreover,  there  are  few  kinds 
of  work  in  the  world  that,  to  be  well  done,  must  not  be  done  heartily; 
man}'  that  require,  in  order  to  excellence,  the  Avhole  condensed  force 
and  energy  of  the  highest  mind. 

But  though  it  be  true  that  we  can  not,  in  our  worldly  work,  be  always 
consciously  thinking  of  religion,  yet  it  is  also  true  that,  unconsciously, 
insensibly,  we  may  be  acting  under  its  ever-present  control.  As  there 
are  laws  and  powers  in  the  natural  world,  of  which,  without  thinking  of 
them,  we  are  ever  availing  ourselves — as  I  do  not  thhik  of  gravitation 
when,  by  its  aid,  I  lift  my  arm,  or  of  atmospheric  laws  when,  by  means 
of  them,  I  breathe,  so  hi  the  routine  of  daily  work,  though  comparatively 
seldom  do  I  think  of  them,  I  may  yet  be  constantly  swayed  by  the 
motives,  sustained  by  the  principles,  living,  breathing,  acting  in  the 
invisible  atmosphere  of  true   religion.      There  'are   under-curreuts  in 


RELIGION     IN     COilMON     LIFE.  gg5 

the  ocean  wliich  act  independently  of  the  movement  of  the  waters  on 
the  snrface ;  far  down  too  in  its  hidden  dejjths  there  is  a  region  where, 
even  though  the  storm  be  raging  on  the  ui^per  Avaves,  perpetual  calm 
uess  and  stillness  reign.  So  there  may  be  an  under-current  beneath  the 
surface-movements  of  your  life — there  may  dwell  in  the  secret  depths 
of  your  being  the  abiding  peace  of  God,  the  repose  of  a  holy  mind, 
even  though,  all  the  while,  the  restless  stir  and  commotion  of  worldly 
business  may  mark  your  outer  history. 

And,  in  order  to  see  this,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  many  of  the 
thoughts  and  motives  that  most  powerfully  impel  and  govern  us  in  the 
common  actions  of  life,  are  latent  thoughts  and  motives.  Have  you  not 
often  experienced  that  curious  law — a  law,  perhaps,  contrived  by  God, 
with  an  ex})ress  view  to  this  its  highest  application-*-by  which  a  secret 
thought  or  feeling  niay  lie  brooding  in  your  mind,  quite  apart  from  the 
particular  work  in  which  you  happen  to  be  employed?  Have  you  never, 
for  instance,  while  readhig  aloud,  carried  along  with  you  m  your  read- 
ing the  secret  impression  of  the  presence  of  the  listener — an  impression 
that  kept  i)ace  with  all  the  mind's  activity  in  the  special  work  of  read- 
ing ;  nay,  have  you  not  sometimes  felt  the  mind,  Avhile  prosecuting 
without  interruption  the  work  of  reading,  yet  at  the  same  time  carrying 
on  some  other  train  of  reflection  apart  altogether  from  that  suggested 
by  the  book  ?  Here  is  obviously  a  particular  "  business"  in  which  you 
were  "diligent,"  yet  another  and  diflerent  thought  to  which  the  "spirit" 
turned.  Or,  think  of  the  work  in  which  I  am  this  moment  occupied. 
Amid  all  the  mental  exertions  of  the  public  speaker — underneath  the 
outward  workings  of  his  mind,  so  to  speak,  there  is  the  latent  thought 
of  the  presence  of  his  auditory.  Perhaps  no  species  of  exertion  requires 
greater  concentration  of  thought  or  undividedness  of  attention  than 
this :  and  yet,  amid  all  the  subtle  processes  of  intellect — the  excogita- 
tion or  recollection  of  ideas — the  selection,  right  ordering,  and  enun- 
ciation of  words,  there  never  quits  his  mind  for  one  moment  the  idea  of 
the  presence  of  the  listening  throng.  Like  a  secret  atmosphere,  it  sur- 
rounds and  bathes  his  spirit  as  he  goes  on  with  the  external  work.  And 
have  not  you,  too,  my  friends,  an  Auditor — it  may  be,  a  "  great  cloud 
of  witnesses" — but  at  least  one  all-glorious  Witness  and  Listener  ever 
present,  ever  watchful,  as  the  discourse  of  life  i)roceeds  ?  Why  then, 
in  this  case  too,  while  the  outward  business  is  diligently  prosecuted,  may 
there  not  be  on  your  spirit  a  latent  and  constant  impi-ession  of  that 
awful  inspection  ?  What  worldly  Avork  so  absorbing  as  to  leave  no 
room  in  a  believer's  spirit  for  the  hallowing  thought  of  that  gloiious 
Presence  ever  near  ?  Do  not  say  that  you  do  not  see  God — that  the 
presence  of  the  divine  Auditor  is  not  forced  upon  your  senses,  as  that 
of  the  human  auditory  on  the  speaker.  For  the  same  process  goes  on 
in  the  secret  meditations  as  in  the  public  addresses  of  the  preacher — the 
same  latent  reference  to  those  who  shall  listen  to  his  words  dwells  in  his 


QQQ  JOHN     CAIRD. 

mind  when  in  bis  solitary  retirement  he  thinks  and  writes,  as  when  he 
speaks  in  their  immediate  2)resence.  And  surely  if  the  thought  of  an 
earthly  auditory — of  human  minds  and  hearts  that  shall  respond  to  his 
thoughts  and  words — can  inteitwine  itself  with  all  the  activities  of  a 
man's  mind,  and  flash  back  inspiration  on  his  soul,  at  least  as  potent  and 
as  penetrating  may  the  thought  be,  of  him,  the  gi-eat  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth,  who  not  only  sees  and  knows  us  now,  but  before  whose 
awful  presence,  in  the  last  great  congregation,  we  shall  stand  forth  to 
recount  and  answer  for  our  every  thought  and  deed. 

Or,  to  take  but  one  other  example,  have  Ave  not  all  felt  that  the 
thought  of  anticijmted  hapjjiness  may  blend  itself  with  the  work  of  our 
busiest  hours?  The  laborer's  evening  release  from  toil — the  school- 
boy's coming  holiday,  or  the  hard-wrought  business-man's  approaching 
season  of  relaxation — the  exjjected  return  of  a  long  absent  and  much- 
loved  friend — is  not  the  thought  of  these,  or  similar  joyous  events,  one 
which  often  intermingles  with,  without  interrupting,  our  common  work  ? 
When  a  father  goes  forth  to  his  "  labor  till  the  evening,"  perhaps  often, 
very  often,  in  the  thick  of  his  toils,  the  thought  of  home  may  start  up  to 
cheer  him.  The  smile  that  is  to  welcome  him,  as  he  crosses  his  lowly 
threshold  when  the  work  of  the  day  is  over,  the  glad  faces,  and  merry 
voices,  and  sweet  caresses  of  little  ones,  as  they  shall  gather  round  him 
in  the  quiet  evening  hours — the  thought  of  all  this  may  dwell,  a  latent 
joy,  a  hidden  motive,  deep  down  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  come  rushing 
in  a  sweet  solace  at  every  pause  of  exertion,  and  act  like  a  secret  oil  to 
smooth  the  wheels  of  labor.  And  so,  in  the  other  cases  I  have  namedj 
even  when  our  outward  activities  ai"e  the  most  strenuous,  even  when 
every  energy  of  mind  and  body  is  full  strung  for  work,  the  anticipation 
of  coming  hapjjiness  may  never  be  absent  from  our  minds.  The  heart 
has  a  secret  treasury,  "where  our  hopes  and  joys  are  often  garnered — 
too  precious  to  be  parted  with  even  for  a  moment. 

And  why  may  not  the  highest  of  all  hopes  and  joys  possess  the  same 
all-pervading  influence  ?  Have  we,  if  our  religion  be  real,  no  anticipation 
of  happiness  in  the  glorious  future  ?  Is  there  no  "  rest  that  remaineth  for 
the  people  of  God,"  no  home  and  loving  heart  awaiting  us  when  the 
toils  of  our  hurried  day  of  life  are  ended  ?  What  is  earthly  rest  or 
relaxation,  what  that  release  from  toil  after  which  we  so  often  sigh,  but 
the  faint  shadow  of  the  saint's  everlasting  rest — the  repose  of  eternal 
purity — the  calm  of  a  sjjirit  in  which,  not  the  tension  of  labor  only,  but 
the  strain  of  the  moral  strife  with  sin,  has  ceased — the  rest  of  the  soul  in 
God  !  What  visions  of  earthly  bliss  can  ever — if  our  Christian  faith  be 
not  a  form — compare  with  "  the  glory  soon  to  be  revealed  ;"  what  joy  of 
earthly  reunion  with  the  rapture  of  the  hour  when  the  heavens  shall 
yield  our  absent  Lord  to  our  embrace,  to  be  j^arted  from  us  no  more  for- 
ever !  And  if  all  this  be  not  a  dream  and  a  fancy,  but  most  sober  truth, 
what  is  there  to  except  this  joyful  hope  from  that  law  to  which,  in  all 


EELIGION    IN     COMMON     LIFE.  qqj 

Other  deep  joys,  our  minds  are  subject?  Why  may  we  not,  m  this  case 
too,  think  often,  amid  our  worldly  work,  of  the  Home  to  which  we  are 
going,  of  the  true  and  loving  heart  that  beats  for  us,  and  of  the  sweet 
and  joyous  welcome  that  awaits  us  there  ?  And,  even  when  we  make 
them  not,  of  set  puri^ose,  the  subject  of  our  thoughts,  is  there  not  enough 
of  grandeur  in  the  objects  of  a  believer's  hope  to  pervade  his  spirit  at  all 
times  with  a  calm  and  reverential  joy  ?  Do  not  think  all  this  strange, 
fanatical,  impossible.  If  it  do  seem  so,  it  can  only  be  because  .your  heart 
is  in  the  earthly  hopes,  but  not  in  the  higher  and  holier  hopes — because 
love  to  Christ  is  still  to  you  but  a  name — because  you  can  give  more  ardor 
of  thought  to  the  anticipation  of  a  coming  holiday  than  to  the  hope  of 
heaven  and  glory  everlasting.  No,  my  friends !  the  strange  thing  is, 
not  that  amid  the  world's  work  we  should  be  able  to  think  of  our  Home, 
but  that  we  should  ever  be  able  to  forget  it ;  and  the  stranger,  sadder 
still,  that  while  the  little  day  of  life  is  passing — morning,  noontide,  even- 
ing— each  stage  more  rapid  than  the  last,  while  to  many  the  shadows 
are  already  fast  lengthening,  and  the  declining  sun  Avarns  them  that 
"  the  night  is  at  hand,  wherein  no  man  can  work,"  there  should  be  those 
among  us  whose  whole  thoughts  are  absorbed  in  the  business  of  the 
woild,  and  to  whom  the  reflection  never  occurs  that  soon  they  must  go 
out  into  eternity — without  a  friend — without  a  home  ! 

Such,  then,  is  the  true  idea  of  the  Christian  life — a  life  not  of  periodic 
observances,  or  of  occasional  fervors,  or  even  of  splendid  acts  of  heroism 
and  self-devotion,  but  of  quiet,  constant,  unobtrusive  earnestness,  amid 
the  common-place  work  of  the  Avorld.  This  is  the  life  to  which  Christ 
calls  us.  Is  it  yours  ?  Have  you  entered  upon  it,  or  are  you  now  will- 
ing to  enter  upon  it  ?  It  is  not,  I  admit,  an  imposing  or  an  easy  one. 
There  is  nothing  in  it  to  dazzle,  much  in  its  hardness  and  plainness  to  de- 
ter the  irresolute.  The  life  of  a  follower  of  Christ  demands  not,  indeed, 
in  our  day,  the  courage  of  the  hero  or  the  martyr,  the  fortitude  that 
braves  outward  dangers  and  sufferings,  and  flinches  not  from  persecution 
and  death.  But  with  the  age  of  persecution  the  difticulties  of  the 
Christian  life  have  not  passed  avvay.  In  maintaining  a  spirit  of  Christian 
cheerfulness  and  contentment — in  the  unambitious  routine  of  humble 
duties — in  preserving  the  fervor  of  piety  amid  the  unexciting  cares  and 
wearing  anxieties — in  the  perpetual  reference  to  lofty  ends  amid  lowly 
toils — there  may  be  evinced  a  faith  as  strong  as  that  of  the  man  who 
dies  with  the  song  of  martyrdom  on  his  lips.  It  is  a  great  thing  to 
love  Christ  so  dearly  as  to  be  "  ready  to  be  bound  and  to  die'''  for  him  ; 
but  it  is  often  a  thing  not  less  great  to  be  ready  to  take  up  our  daily 
cross,  and  to  lire  for  him. 

But  be  the  difficulties  of  a  Christian  life  in  the  world  what  they  may, 
they  need  not  discourage  us.  Whatever  the  work  to  which  our  Master 
calls  us,  he  offers  us  a  strength  commensurate  with  our  needs.  No  man 
who  wishes  to  serve  Christ  will  ever  fail  for  lack  of  heavenly  aid.     And 


668  JOHN    CAIRD. 

it  will  be  no  valid  excuse  for  an  ungodly  life  that  it  is  difficult  to  keep 
alive  the  flame  of  piety  in  the  world,  if  Christ  be  ready  to  supply  the 
fuel. 

To  all,  then,  who  really  wish  to  lead  such  a  life,  let  me  suggest  that 
the  first  thing  to  be  done — that  without  which  all  other  eflbrts  are  worse 
than  vain,  is  heartily  to  devote  themselves,  to  God  through  Christ  Jesus. 
Much  as  has  been  said  of  the  infusion  of  religious  principle  and  motive 
into  our  worldly  woi'k,  there  is  a  preliminary  advice  of  greater  import- 
ance still — ^that  we  he  religious.  Life  comes  before  growth.  The  soldier 
must  enlist  before  he  can  serve.  In  vain,  directions  how  to  keep  the 
fire  ever  burning  on  the  altar,  if  first  it  be  not  kindled.  ~So  religion  can 
be  genuine,  no  goodness  can  be  constant  or  lasting,  that  springs  not,  as 
its  primary  source,  from  faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  To  know  Christ  as  my 
Saviour — to  come  with  all  my  guilt  and  weakness  to  him  in  Avhoni 
trembling  penitence  never  fails  to  find  a  friend — to  cast  myself  at  his 
feet  in  whom  all  that  is  sublime  in  divine  holiness  is  softened,  though 
not  obscured,  by  all  that  is  beautiful  in  human  tenderness  ;  and,  believing 
in  that  love  stronger  than  death,  which,  for  me,  and  such  as  me,  drained 
the  cup  of  untold  sorrows,  and  bore  without  a  murmur  the  bitter  curse 
of  sin,  to  trust  my  soul  for  time  and  eternity  into  his  hands — this  is  the 
beginning  of  true  religion.  And  it  is  the  reverential  love  with  which 
the  believer  must  ever  look  to  him  to  whom  he  owes  so  much,  that  con- 
stitutes the  main-spring  of  the  religion  of  .daily  life.  Selfishness  may 
prompt  to  a  formal  religion,  natural  susceptibility  may  give  rise  to  a  fit- 
ful one,  but  for  a  life  of  constant  fervent  piety,  amid  the  Avorld's  cares  and 
toils,  no  motive  is  sufficient  save  one — self-devoted  love  to  Christ. 

But  again,  if  you  would  lead  a  Christian  life  in  the  world,  let  me  re- 
mind you  that  that  life  must  be  continued  as  well  as  begun  with  Christ. 
You  must  learn  to  look  to  him  not  merely  as  your  Saviour  from  guilt, 
but  as  the  Friend  of  your  secret  life,  the  chosen  Companion  of  your 
solitary  hours,  the  Depositary  of  all  the  deef)er  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
your  soul.  You  can  not  live  for  him  in  the  world  unless  you  live  much 
icith  him  apart  fi-om  the  world.  In  spiritual  as  in  secular  things,  the 
deepest  and  sti-ongest  characters  need  mucb  solitude  to  form  them. 
Even  earthly  greatness,  much  more  moral  and  spiritual  greatness,  is  never 
attained  but  as  the  result  of  much  that  is  concealed  from  the  world — • 
of  many  a  lonely  and  meditative  hour,  Thoughtfulness,  self  knowledge, 
self-control,  a  chastened  wisdom  and  piety,  are  the  fruit  of  habitual 
meditation  and  prayer.  In  these  exercises  heaven  is  brought  near,  and  our 
exaggerated  estimate  of  earthly  things  corrected.  By  these  our  spirit- 
ual energies,  shattered  and  worn  by  the  friction  of  worldly  work,  are 
repaired.  In  the  recurring  seasons  of  devotion  the  cares  and  anxieties 
of  worldly  business  cease  to  vex  us ;  exhausted  with  its  toils,  we  have, 
in  daily  communion  with  God,  "  meat  to  eat  which  the  world  knoweth 
not  of;"  and  even  when  its  calamities  and  losses  fall  upon  us,  and  our 


RELIGION    IN     COMMON     LIFE.  QQ^ 

portion  of  worldly  good  may  be  withdra^\ai,  we  may  be  able  to  show, 
like  those  holy  ones  of  old  at  tlie  heathen  court,  by  the  fair  serene 
countenance  of  the  spirit,  that  we  have  something  better  than  the 
world-s  pulse  to  feed  upon. 

But,  further,  in  availing  yourself  of  this  divine  resource  amid  the 
daily  exigences  of  life,  why  should  you  wait  always  for  the  periodic  sea- 
son and  the  formal  attitude  of  prayer  ?  The  heavens  are  not  open  to 
the  believer's  call  only  at  intervals.  The  grace  of  God's  Holy  Spirit 
falls  not  like  the  fertilizing  shower,  only  now  and  then ;  or  like  the  dew 
on  the  earth's  face,  only  at  morning  and  night.  At  all  times,  on  the 
uplifted  face  of  the  believer's  spirit,  the  gracious  element  is  ready  to 
descend.  Pray  always;  pray  without  ceasing.  When  difficulties  arise, 
delay  not  to  seek  and  obtain  at  once  the  succor  you  need.  Swifter  than 
by  the  subtle  electric  agent  is  thought  borne  from  earth  to  Jieaven.  The 
Great  Spirit  on  high  is  in  constant  sympathy  with  the  spirit  beneath, 
and  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  thrill  of  asitiration 
flashes  from  the  heart  of  man  to  God.  Whenever  any  thing  vexes  you 
■ — whenever,  from  the  rude  and  selfish  ways  of  men,  any  trials  of  temper 
cross  your  path  ;  when  your  spirits  are  ruffled,  or  your  Christian  foi^ 
bearance  put  to  the  test,  be  this  your  instant  resource  !  Haste  away,  if 
only  for  a  moment,  to  the  serene  and  peace-breathing  presence  of  Jesus, 
and  you  will  not  fail  to  return  with  a  spirit  soothed  and  calmed.  Or 
when  the  impure  and  low-minded  surround  you — when,  in  the  path  of 
duty,  the  high  tone  of  your  Christian  purity  is  apt  to  suffer  from  baser 
contacts — O,  what  relief  to  lift  the  heart  to  Christ !  to  rise  on  the  wings 
of  faith — even  for  one  instant  to  breathe  the  air  of  that  region  Avhere  the 
infinite  Purity  dwells,  and  then  return  with  a  mind  steeled  against 
temptation,  ready  to  recoil  with  the  instinctive  abhorrence  of  a  spirit 
that  has  been  beside  the  throne,  from  all  that  is  impure  and  vile.  Say 
not,  then,  with  such  aid  at  your  command,  that  reUgion  can  not  be 
brought  down  to  Common  Life  ! 

In  conclusion,  let  me  once  more  urge  upon  you  the  great  lesson  upon 
which  we  have  been  insisting.  Carry  religious  principle  into  every-day 
life.  Principle  elevates  whatever  it  touches.  Facts  lose  all  their  little- 
ness to  the  mind  which  brings  principle  and  law  to  bear  upon  them. 
The  chemist's  or  geologist's  soiled  hands  are  no  sign  of  base  work ;  the 
coarsest  operations  of  the  laboratory,  the  breaking  of  stones  with  a  ham- 
mer, cease  to  be  mechanical  when  intellectual  thought  and  princi2)le 
govern  the  mind  and  guide  the  hands.  And  religious  principle  is  the 
noblest  of  all.  Bring  it  to  bear  on  common  actions  and  coarse  cares, 
and  infinitely  nobler  even  than  the  philosophic  or  scientific,  becomes  the 
Christian  life.  Live  for  Christ  in  common  things,  and  all  your  work  will 
become  priestly  work.  As  in  the  temple  of  old,  it  was  holy  work  to 
hew  wood  or  mix  oil,  because  it  was  done  for  the  altar-sacrifice  or  the 
sacred  lamps ;  so  all  youi-  coarse  and  common  work  will  receive  a  conse- 


670  JOHN    CAIRD. 

cration  when  done  for  God's  gloiy,  by  one  who  is  a  true  priest  to  his 
temple. 

Carry  religion  into  common  life,  and  your  life  will  be  rendered  useful 
as  well  as  noble.  There  are  many  men  who  listen  incredulously  to  the 
high-toned  exhortations  of  the  pulpit ;  the  religious  life  there  depicted  is 
much  too  seraphic,  they  think,  for  this  plain  and  prosaic  world  of  ours. 
Show  these  men  that  the  picture  is  not  a  fancy  one.  Make  it  a  reality. 
Biing  religion  down  from  the  clouds.  Apply  to  it  the  infallible  test  of 
experiment,  and,  by  diffusing  your  daily  actions  with  holy  principles, 
prove  that  love  to  God,  superiority  to  worldly  pleasure,  spirituality, 
holiness,  heavenly-mindedness,  are  something  more  than  the  stock  ideas 
of  sermons. 

Carry  religious  principle  into  common  life,  and  common  life  will  lose 
its  transitoriness.  "The  world  passeth  away!"  The  things  that  are 
seen  are  temporal.  Soon  business,  with  all  its  cares  and  anxieties — the 
whole  "  unprofitable  stir  and  fever  of  the  world  " — will  be  to  tis  a  thing  of 
the  past.  But  religion  does  something  better  than  sigh  and  muse  over 
the  perishableness  of  earthly  things :  it  finds  in  them  the  seed  of  immor- 
tality. No  work  done  for  Christ  perishes  ;  no  action  that  helps  to 
mold  the  deathless  mind  of  a  saint  of  God  is  ever  lost.  Live  for  Christ 
in  the  world,  and  you  carry  out  with  you  into  eternity  all  of  the  results 
of  the  world's  business  that  are  worth  the  keeping.  The  river  of  life 
sweeps  on,  but  the  gold  grains  it  held  in  solution  are  left  behind,  depos- 
ited in  the  holy  heart.  "The  world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof; 
but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  God  abideth  forever."  Every  other  result 
of  our  "dihgence  in  business"  will  soon  be  gone.  You  can  not  invent 
any  mode  of  exchange  between  the  visible  and  invisible  Avorlds,  so  that 
the  balance  at  your  credit  in  the  one  can  be  transferred,  when  you  mi- 
grate from  it,  to  your  account  in  the  other.  Worldly  sharpness,  acute- 
ness,  vei'satility,  are  not  the  qualities  in  request  in  the  world  to 
come.  The  capacious  intellect,  stored  with  knowledge,  and  disciplined 
into  admirable  perspicacity,  tact,  worldly  wisdom,  by  a  lifetime  devoted 
to  politics  or  business,  is  not,  by  such  attainments,  fitted  to  take  a  higher 
place  among  the  sons  of  immortality.  The  honor,  fame,  respect,  obse- 
quious homage  that  attend  Avorldly  greatness  up  to  the  grave's  brink, 
will  not  follow  it  one  step  beyond.  These  advantages  are  not  to  be 
despised ;  but  if  these  be  all  that,  by  the  toil  of  our  hand,  or  the  sweat 
of  our  brow,  we  have  gained,  the  hour  is  fast  coming  when  we  shall  dis- 
cover that  we  have  labored  in  vain,  and  spent  our  strength  for  naught. 
But  while  these  pass,  there  are  other  things  that  remain.  The  world's 
gains  and  losses  may  soon  cease  to  affect  us,  but  not  the  gratitude  or  the 
patience,  the  kindness  or  the  resignation,  they  drew  forth  from  our 
hearts.  The  world's  scenes  of  business  may  fade  on  our  sight,  the  noise 
of  its  restless  pursuits  may  fall  no  more  upon  our  ear,  when  we  pass  to 
meet  our  God  ;  but  not  one  unselfish  thought,  not  one  kind  and  gentle 


RELIGION     IN     COMMON     LIFE.  Q'^i 

word,  not  one  act  of  self-sacrificing  love  done  for  Jesus'  sake,  in  the 
midst  of  our  common  work,  but  will  have  left  an  indelible  im])ress  on  the 
soul,  which  will  go  out  with  it  to  its  eternal  destiny.  So  live,  then,  that 
this  may  be  the  result  of  your  labors  ;  so  live  that  your  work,  whether 
in  the  Church  or  in  the  world,  may  become  a  discipline  for  that  glorious 
state  of  being  in  which  the  Church  and  the  world  shall  become  one ; 
Avhere  work  shall  be  worship,  and  labor  shall  be  rest ;  where  the  worker 
shall  never  quit  the  temple,  nor  the  worshiper  the  place  of  work, 
because  "  there  is  no  temple  therein,  but  the  Lord  God  Almighty  and 
the  Lamb  are  the  temple  thereof" 


DISCO  IT  RSE    XLVLi. 

JOHN    McFAKLANE,    LL.O. 

A  CHIEF  ornament  in  the  way  of  church  architecture,  in  the  city  of  Glasgow,  is 
the  place  of  worship  owned  by  the  Erskine  CnuRcn  (so  called  in  honor  of  the 
men  of  this  name,  the  founders  of  the  Scottish  Secession,  now  the  United  Presby- 
terian Church),  and  here  it  is  that  Dr.  McFarlane  has  ministered  for  the  last  sixteen 
years.  He  is  a  native  of  Dunfermline,  and  was  ordained  in  Kincardine  in  the 
year  1832.  * 

Eight  years  after,  he  was  translated  to  Grlasgow  to  preside  over  the  congregation 
of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Smith,  who  died  some  ten  years  since.  The  congregation  wor- 
shiped in  Nicholson-street  chapel,  until  they  buUt  their  place  of  worship  in  south 
Portland-street. 

Dr.  McFarlane  is  said  to  possess  a  clear  and  musical  voice,  a  mind,  if  not  pro- 
found, yet  eminently  historical  and  poetic,  an  unusual  readiness  of  utterance,  and  a 
style  of  communicating  his  thoughts,  not  always  remarkable  for  beauty  or  finish, 
but  entirely  perspicuous  and  lucid  to  the  most  ordinary  perception.  He  has  pub- 
lished a  number  of  works,  among  which  are  "  The  Mountains  of  the  Bible,"  '  The 
Night  Lamp,"  "The  Hiding-Place,"  "Why  Weepest  Thou?"  We  remember 
tliat  the  Eclectic  Review,  some  years  ago,  said  of  the  first  mentioned  of  these,  that 
it  was  the  best  series  of  discourses  on  this  subject  that  had  ever  been  pubhshed. 
The  sermon  here  given  was  preached  before  the  London  Missionary  Society  in 
Wliitefield's  Tabernacle,  Moorsfield,  London,  May  9th,  1855,  and  published  at  the 
request  of  the  Directors.  It  was  pronounced,  at  the  time,  one  of  the  most  marked 
discourses  recently  preached  in  London ;  "  thoroughly  digested  and  severely 
elaborated,  in  an  unusual  degree  luminous  and  powerful,  a  torrent  of  exposition  and 
argumentation,  blended  with  touching  appeal."  One  of  Dr.  McFarlane's  hearers 
was  so  wrought  upon,  that  he  placed  five  hundred  pounds,  or  two  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars,  on  the  plate,  when  the  collection  was  made.  When  pubUshed,  it 
was  thrown  into  the  form  of  a  treatise,  without  the  appearance  of  a  sermon.  A  few 
unimportant  alterations  have  here  been  made,  principally  with  a  view  to  give  it  its 
original  shape. 


ALTAR-GOLD ;  or,  CHRIST  WORTPIY  TO  RECEIVE  RICHES. 

"■Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive  riches." — Rev.,  v.  12. 

The  Church  of  God  lias  the  highest  of  all  destinies.  Through  her 
instrumeiitajity  the  whole  world  is  to  be  brought  back  to  holiness.  To 
fulfill  this  destiny  that  Church  has  to  carry  the  gospel  to  the  utmost  ends 


ALTAR-GOLD.  (573 

of  tlio  cartli.  She  has  to  do  this  out  of  her  o^yn  resources.  To  estab- 
lish and  maintain  the  indispensable  agencies  she  must  needs  have  a 
revenue,  and  that  revenue  she  can  collect  only  from  within  herself  Has 
her  revenue  hitherto  been  equal  to  her  -work  or  to  her  divine  commis- 
sion ?  It  certainly  has  not.  In  this  respect  she  is,  and  always  has  been, 
far  behind.  Till  she  be  greatly  improved  here,  her  destiny  remains 
unfulfilled.  The  truth  is,  a  revival  in  Christian  liberality  must  take 
l)lace.  Worldly-mindedness  in  the  Church  must  be  crucified ;  the  spirit 
of  prayer  must  be  more  copiously  poured  out ;  her  communion  must  be 
purer,  her  faith  made  more  vigorous  and  lofty,  and  her  finances  must  be 
greatly  augmented.  Without  under-estimating  the  high  importance  of 
the  others,  we  would  lay  emphasis  on  the  last — our  conviction  is,  that 
the  pecuniary  resources  of  the  Church  must  be  increased  in  order  to 
the  successful  issue  of  her  missionary  enterprise.  Some  master-mind 
must  arise  and  deliver  her  out  of  her  financial  difliiculties,  some  mighty 
principle  must  be  evolved  to  subdue  her  people  into  a  uniform  and 
munificent  system  of  sacrificing  unto  God  their  "  riches,"  otherwise  that 
enter]  )rise  must  prove  a  failure.  Money  is  known  to  be  the  sinews  of 
war — it  is  not  less  the  sinews  of  missions.  True,  the  latter  is  a  divine 
cause,  l)ut  its  divine  Author  has  ruled  that  it  shall  be  maintained  and 
extended  by  means  of  the  pecuniary  contributions  of  his  jDCople.  Have 
we  then  such  a  mind,  and  is  there  such  a  principle  at  work  ?  Yes  ; 
we  have  this  mind  in  the  recorded  opinions  of  angels  and  saints, 
"  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive — riches  ;"  and  we  have 
such  a  i)rinciple  at  work  in  the  consciences  of  those  on  earth  who  har- 
monize with  the  judgment  expressed  by  the  witnesses  in  heaven.  It  is 
to  the  elucidation  of  this  subject  that  we  now  proceed.  We  take  the 
above  stanza  from  the  song  of  heaven  literally.  A  splendid  theme,  no 
doubt,  opens  up  to  us  in  the  worthiness  of  the  Lamb  to  receive  the 
riches  of  all  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  adoration  and  service  ;  but, 
though  somewhat  reluctantly,  we  pass  by  this  view  of  the  subject  to  the 
less  interesting,  it  may  be,  but  not  less  useful  and  practical,  portion  of  it. 
Our  object  is,  to  baptize  the  riches  of  men  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel. 
If  we  succeed,  even  in  an  humble  degree,  Ave  may  multiply  the  nun^bcr 
of  "  clieerful  givers,"  diminish  the  necessity  (which  is  often  felt  to  be 
painful)  of  speaking  so  much  about  money  in  connection  with  Christian 
objects,  and  fix  attention  upon  jyrmdjyles,  the  operation  of  which  alone 
can  supply  what  is  needful,  especially  for  carrying  onward  the  great  mis- 
sionary cause. 

L  CHRIST  ILVS  NEED  OF  THE  FAVORS  OF  MEN. 

Jesus  Christ  has  a  cause  in  this  world.  The  idea  is  not  necessarily 
Christian.  It  has  been  known  from  the  dawn  of  prophecy  ;  it  was 
re-echoed  among  the  shades  of  Iloreb ;  the  battles  of  Israel  inscribed  it 

43 


g74  •  JOHN     McFARLANE. 

on  tlie  valleys  of  tlie  Jordan  and  the  hills  of  Judea ;  and  it  was  the  most 
brilliant  gem  in  the  diadem  of  their  kings,  David  spoke  for  the  rest 
when  he  prayed,  "  Arise,  O  Lord,  and  plead  thine  own  cause."  From 
sire  to  son  it  descended  among  the  chosen,  and  its  deep  cadences  were 
heard  by  the  expectant  minds  that  waited  in  the  fullness  of  the  times 
*'  for  the  consolation  of  Israel."  When  the  Son  of  man  was  born,  it 
was  embodied  in  him,  and,  speaking  with  its  own  voice,  left  the  world 
in  no  further  doubt  of  its  presence,  power,  and  prospects.  When  good 
old  Simeon  took  the  holy  child  into  his  arms  and  "  blessed  God,"  he 
became  for  the  moment  the  sublime  representative  of  the  whole  ^\'orkl's 
ultimate  espousal  of  the  Christian  religion. 

In  this  very  transaction  there  was  a  full  recognition  of  Jesus  Christ 
as  the  divine  Saviour,  and  a  transference  to  hun  of  the  future  love  and 
service  of  mankind.  He  and  his  cause  were  now  identified ;  all  men 
were  now  commanded  to  come  to  Mm,  to  believe  in  him,  to  publish 
him  /  all  possessions,  relationships,  and  even  life  itself,  were  to  be  sur- 
rendered to  him — to  him,  as  God's  own  Son — to  kirn,  as  emphatically 
God's  "  own  cause.''''  The  question  then  is,  did  the  merciful  purpose  of 
God  to  save  men,  through  the  incarnation,  suiFerings,  and  death  of  his 
Son,  suffer  in  any  sense  when  Christ  left  the  world  and  ceased  to  be  its 
visible  center? — in  other  words,  did  his  cause  ascend  with  him,  or  did 
it  remain  behind  him  on  the  earth  ?  Of  course  it  remained ;  yet  he  also 
is  to  be  understood  as  not  only  represented  by  it,  but  as  being,  in  a 
very  important  sense,  identified  with  it.  When  he  solemnly  committed 
that  cause  to  his  disciples,  he  assured  them  that  in  cordially  espousing 
it  they  would  become  as  it  were  insensible  to  his  personal  absence,  and 
that  in  working  at  it  they  would  enjoy  such  manifestations  of  his  love 
and  power  as  would  be  to  them  almost  as  good  as  himself.  Christ  is  on 
the  earth  always,  and  always  must  be,  while  sinners  are  to  be  saved  and 
saints  are  to  be  edified. 

True,  we  can  not  now  break  over  him  the  box  of  precious  alabaster, 
nor  invite  him  to  our  houses,  nor  offer  to  him  the  pillow  of  rest,  nor  lay 
our  own  heads  on  his  bosom,  whereon  to  respond,  in  the  very  preUba- 
tions  of  heaven,  to  the  heavings  of  his  wonderful  love  ;  but  we  can  do 
these  things  to  his  cause,  which  he  assures  us  is  just  as  good  as  if  it  were 
to  be  done  to  himself.  In  all  this  he  acts  both  as  a  sovereign  and  a 
friend — as  a  sovereign,  in  using  his  right  to  arrange  his  own  matters  in 
his  own  way  ;  and  as  a  friend,  in  reposing  such  confidence  in  his  j^eople. 
He,  of  course,  was  not  shut  up  to  this  plan ;  he  could  have  selected 
many  others.  As  he  has  not  done  so,  we  conclude  that  the  one  chosen 
is  the  best ;  viz.,  human  saloation  to  be  2>i'osecuted  by  means  of  human 
agency.  The  wisdom  of  the  Redeemer  in  this  plan  may  by  vindicated 
by  three  references — to  the  princij^les  in  his  people  to  which  he  appeals, 
to  the  organization  among  them  through  which  he  works,  and  to  the 
sacrijices  which  he  requires  at  their  hands. 


ALTAR-GOLD. 


675 


].    We  refer,  first,  to  theprindples  in  his  people  to  which  he  appeals. 

In  tlie  principles  he  has  resources  alike  mighty  and  inexhaustible.  He 
has  by  his  Holy  Spirit  implanted  in  them  such  an  amount  of  faith,  grati- 
tude, zeal,  hope,  and  honor,  as  to  make  it  quite  safe  for  him  to  trust 
them.  To  an  absolute  certainty,  these  principles  must  operate  so  as  to 
maintain  and  complete  his  work  as  Redeemer.  Heaven  and  earth  may 
pass  away,  but  not  one  of  those  indestructible  agents  in  the  heart  of  the 
Church  militant.  Policy  is  transitory — principle  is  everlasting.  To 
assert  that  it  was  a  blunder  to  leave  his  cause  in  human  hands,  and  that 
he  ought  to  have  retained  it  absolutely  in  his  own,  as  its  divine  head, 
is  to  forget  that  for  four  thousand  years  it  moved  forward,  even  under 
the  shadows  of  the  initiatory  economy  ;  and  also,  that  it  never  was 
smaller  than  when  he,  even  by  miracles  and  wisdom,  was  its  minister. 

It  was  not  till  he  went  out  of  the  world  that  Christianity  commenced 
its  sensations.  Who  has  not  stood  back  in  admiration  of  the  prompti- 
tude, zeal,  and  power  of  primitive  faith  ?  There  must  be  something 
peculiarly  solemn  in  the  idea  of  an  absent  Saviour — an  influence  which 
calls  into  action  the  spiritual  life.  While  he  was  with  them,  his  dis- 
ciples seemed  to  think  that  they  had  little  or  nothing  to  do  ;  but  when 
they  felt  that  they  were  alone,  and  that  the  Master  had  intrusted  them 
with  the  cause  for  which  he  had  shed  his  blood,  the  purj^ose  was  im- 
mediately formed  to  adopt  and  prosecute  it  to  victory.  They  nobly 
appreciated  this  grand  token  of  his  confidence.  Its  influence  was,  in- 
deed, invisible,  but  to  it  may  be  traced  the  zeal  that  ere  long  carried 
the  cross  throughout  the  world.  Feeling  their  responsibility,  they  as  it 
were  flew  into  action,  and  worked  and  prayed  as  if  all  would  prove  a 
failure,  unless  they  took  his  i>lace  and  did  his  will.  When,  therefore, 
the  eleven  descended  from  Olivet,  they  had  more  of  Christ  in  their 
midst  than  when  they  went  up  together.  What  had  their  Lord  done  ? 
He  had  laid  down  his  life  for  a  truly  godlike  object,  and  then  disap- 
peared. It  looked  as  if  he  had  deserted  it,  and  they  felt  that  it  was  laid 
upon  their  bosoms.  Around  it,  then,  they  entwined  the  arms  of  their 
holy  confederacy ;  they  kissed  it  M'ith  the  kisses  of  unquenchable  love ; 
and  swore  that  they  would  never  betray  it,  but  so  diligently  work  at  it 
and  work  it  out,  as  to  make  the  world  more  sensible  than  ever  of  the 
presence,  power,  and  prevalency  of  the  despised  Nazarene.  The  re- 
sponsibility was  tremendous;  but  their  faith  was  omnipotent,  their  love 
ai'dent,  their  zeal  unquenchable.  Si)eedily  it  was  telegraphed  far  and 
near  that  their  Redeemer  Avas  indeed  gone  away,  but  that  liis  great  re- 
demption was  deposited  in  the  Church — in  the  principles  and  aftections 
of  his  people — to  be  cherished  and  extended  till  completed  at  once  in 
their  own  perfection,  and  in  his  return  to  exclaim  for  the  last  time,  "  It 
is  finished." 

2.    We  refer,  secondly,  to  the  organization  among  his  people,  through 


g76  JOHN     McFARIA.N'E. 

which  he  worlcs,  as  vindicating  his  wisdom  in  co^mnitting  his  ccntse  tc 
tliem. 

Let  us  regard  this  organization  as  to  its  rules,  agents,  and  action. 

By  its  rules,  the  machinery  is  kept  in  constant  and  orderly  motion. 
These  are  not  of  human  invention,  they  are  the  rules  which  God  made : 
nothing  is  left  to  lucky  thoughts  or  happy  coincidences.  Mediatorial 
foresight  has  provided  for  all — nothing  is  loose  or  accommodating  to 
meet  a  surprise  or  surmount  a  crisis :  all  is  revealed,  and  all  is  fixed. 
The  "Master"  himself  has  already  assorted  his  Christian  institute  so  as 
to  meet  every  variety  in  the  Church's  history  or  in  the  world's  revolu- 
tions. Not  one  of  these  rules  shall  ever  or  anywhere  be  found  imprac- 
ticable ;  not  one  of  them  shall  fail  of  accomplishing  its  end.  And  as  it 
is  with  the  rules,  so  it  is  with  the  agents  who  are  intrusted  with  their 
application.  They  are  not  any  body  or  every  body,  they  are  a  people 
chosen  and  qualified  by  God  for  the  purpose  ;  hence  they  are  not  only 
highly  enlii  htened  expositors,  but  necessarily  faithful  executors  of  the 
laws.  True,  there  is  no  meiitorious  connection  between  their  agency 
and  the  achievements  of  divine  grace.  Still  there  is  a  connection — the 
end  is  gained  by  it — ^men  are  saved,  while  God  takes  to  himself  all  the 
glory.  They  may  be  a  poor  and  despised  association,  but  there  is  no 
confidence  to  be  put  in  any  other.  No  means,  or  combination  of  means 
— no  individuals  or  number  of  individuals — no  forces  or  concentration 
of  forces,  other  than  those  which  include  regenerated  men  and  spirit- 
ual instrumentalities — shall  uphold  and  extend  Christianity.  "The 
weapons  of  this  warfare  are  not  carnal,  but  spiritual" — spiritual  men  and 
spiritual  means.  The  Church  of  the  Lamb,  in  short,  is  the  Lamb's 
agent ;  and  it  is  well  that  it  is  so,  for  she  alone  conserves  and  obeys  the 
precepts  that  shall  lift  him  up  and  "  draw  all  men  unto  him."  Engage- 
ment in  it  brings  no  earthly  honor  and  pampers  no  conceit  of  men ; 
hence  it  appeals  to  nothing  carnal,  either  in  sentiment  or  motive.  It  is 
a  cause  which,  above  all  others,  demands  an  amovmt  of  self  denial  for 
which  the  unbelieving  are  unequal.  Here,  if  anywhere,  are  needed  the 
loving  and  lowly  heart,  the  contrite  spirit,  the  undying  purpose,  the 
unearthly  aim,  the  unslumbering  eye,  and  the  unconquerable  faith,  of 
the  Church  of  God.  Human  agency  it  is,  but  with  those  precious  things 
laid  up  in  its  heart. 

And  as  it  is  with  the  rules  and  agents,  so  is  it  with  the  action  of  the 
organization.  It  is  well-directed  action.  We  often  see  m  the  world  a 
great  deal  of  intellectual,  moral,  and  political  action  sadly  misdirected  : 
its  object  is  to  decry  the  divine  and  applaud  the  human — to  place  mind 
m  man  above  the  holiness  that  is  in  God,  and  which  is  commanded  to  be 
in  us.  The  equivocal  eflbrts  of  mere  ethics  to  displace  the  gospel  in  its 
purpose  to  redeem  and  reform  mankind,  though  modestly  put  forth,  are 
not  the  less  to  be  deplored.  The  puffing  zeal  of  political  action  for 
public  weal,  though  apparently  patriotic,  is  of  "  the  earth  earthy,"  and 


ALTAR -GOLD.  577 

deserves  not  our  confidence.  In  these  instances  the  action  is  intense  but 
misdirected.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  action  of  the  Church :  it  is  di 
reeled  to  one  and  the  selfsame  object  with  God,  in  sending  his  Son  to 
save  the  world.  To  take  action  here  is  to  take  the  place  of  God — to  put 
our  energies  at  his  disposal,  and  to  yield  up  to  him  the  bows  of  our  faith 
and  strength,  that  he  may  draw  them,  not  at  a  venture,  but  with  the 
certainty  of  i:)iercing  the  hearts  of  his  enemies. 

It  is  also  economically-employed  action.  It  does  not  follow  that  in 
great  activity  there  is  real  power.  In  the  experiments  of  the  chemist, 
the  mechanic,  the  utilitarian,  and  the  philanthropist,  there  is  often  in- 
effective energy.  The  work  is  done  in  the  dark,  but  when  the  light  comes 
H  is  found  to  be  a  failure.  It  is  true,  indeed,  of  most  of  the  activities 
of  the  men  of  the  world,  that  in  them  they  "  sow  the  Avind  and  reap  the 
whirlwind."  There  is  no  Avaste,  however,  in  the  action  of  the  Church  ; 
it  is  uniformly  economized,  and  always  productive.  No  effort  for  Christ, 
however  feeble — no  sacrifice,  however  small — no  prayer,  however  hum- 
ble— fails  to  accomplish  good.  There  never  fell  to  the  ground  like  water 
a  single  drop  of  truly  Christian  action.  We  may  be  reminded  of  the 
apparent  failure  of  the  gospel,  after  a  two  thousand  years'  trial,  to  con- 
vert the  Avorld,  and  we  may  be  specially  taunted  with  our  unsuccessful 
missions.  But  these  are  not  exceptions  to  the  rule,  for  we  beheve  that 
not  one  word  of  God  has  ever  returned  unto  him  void,  whether  spoken 
at  home  or  abroad,  among  the  purlieus  of  London,  the  prairies  of 
America,  the  isles  of  the  Pacific,  or  the  bushes  of  Africa ;  whether  we 
see  it  or  not,  no  well-directed  missionary  action  has  ever  been  wasted. 
God  has  conserved  it  all,  and  will  yet  reproduce  it  in  one  or  other  of 
those  forms  of  blessing  which  divine  love  assumes  in  its  intercourse  with 
the  fallen  and  the  guilty.  Let  us  never  then  be  cast  down  by  the  wail 
of  the  coronach — let  the  signals  of  distress  never  be  hoisted  among  us ; 
and  let  every  friend  of  Christian  missions,  however  humble,  be  cheered 
by  the  thought  that  his  or  her  mite  is  not  only  not  useless,  but  in  God's 
hand  an  element  of  prodigious  power. 

It  is  also  a  vigorously-prosecuted  action.  There  is  weakness  in  a 
policy  of  alternation.  To  aim  well  is  good — ^to  concentrate  and  econ- 
omize resources  is  better — but  to  be  steady  and  persevering  in  Christian 
action  is  best  of  all.  Better  it  is  never  to  begin,  than,  having  begun,  to 
retire  in  chagrin.  It  is  never  so  with  the  action  of  the  Church  :  having 
begun,  it  goes  on.  It  began  thousands  of  years  ago,  and  still  maintains 
its  position  and  successfully  discovers  the  range  of  its  influence.  The 
Church,  no  doubt,  has  at  various  periods  been  of  more  or  less  dimen- 
sions, which  have  determined  the  degree  of  her  vigor.  When  accom- 
panied by  thousands  of  applauding  spectators,  she  did  not  put  forth  a 
corres})onding  amount  of  strength,  because  she  drew  no  real  help  from 
such  heterogenous  subsidies.  The  history  of  Christian  action  here  has 
proved  that  the  most  intense  zeal  and  the  best-sustained  energies  of 


678  JOHN    McFARLANE. 

the  Church  have  been  put  forth  in  her  days  of  persecution,  and  suffering. 
and  sorrow.  No  doubt  her  calm  and  progressive  movements  have  oft 
been  in  the  inverse  proportion  of  her  outward  fortunes — when  slie  has 
been  weak  then  she  has  been  strong.  Notwithstanding,  it  is  her  desthiy 
to  restore  the  balance  of  power  in  the  moral  government  of  God,  and  to 
dictate  to  mankind  the  will  of  heaven  and  the  mercy  of  Calvary ;  and 
this  godlike  object  she  will  never  cease  vigorously  to  prosecute,  till 
it  is  done.  In  a  word,  it  is  invariably  successful  action.  By  mis- 
management, even  respectable  influence  has  lost  ground  as  well  as 
character.  Reverses  often  neutralize  successes.  Alternate  gains  and 
losses  oft  issue  in  humiliating  ca2:)itulation :  the  agents  become  de- 
moralized, resources  are  diminished,  hopes  die  away,  and  the  disgrace 
of  total  defeat  is  only  concealed  behind  the  feint  of  compromise.  But 
no  such  tergiversations  shall  ever  stereotyj^e  the  Christian  annals.  "VVe 
must  judge  of  success  in  all  warfare,  not  by  the  character  of  a  sortie 
here  and  there,  but  by  the  general  progress  and  ultimate  issues  of  the 
engagement.  Thus  judged,  Christ's  substitute  in  our  world  has  been 
always  on  the  winning  side.  The  agents  may  have  occasionally  been 
oif  guard,  but  the  action  itself  has  done  its  work.  It  shall  never  be 
wi'itten  on  honest  pages  that  Christ,  in  his  cause,  has  ever  sustained 
a  defeat ;  and  when  mundane  events  are  looked  at  from  the  one  stand- 
point of  the  righteous  revelations  of  the  last  day,  then  it  shall  be  seen 
that  what  were  considered  failures  were  connected  with  future  ad- 
vantages, and  that  in  the  most  gloomy  eras  of  the  Church's  history  were 
deposited  the  acorns  of  her  mountain  oaks,  the  seeds  of  her  harvest- 
homes, 

3.  We  refer ^  thirdly^  to  the  sacrifices  which  Christ  requires  of  Jiis  peo- 
ple, as  vindicating  his  loisdoin  in  committing  his  cause  into  their 
hands. 

These  sacrifices  may  all  be  included  under  two  heads  :  first,  their 
abandonment  of  the  world ;  and  secondly,  the  consecration  of  their  all 
to  him.  Now,  with  regard  to  the  first  of  these — the  cd>and6nment  of 
the  tcorld — ^it  is  evident  that  it  tells  powerfully  in  his  favor  :  it  weakens 
the  world  to  the  extent  of  their  withdrawment  from  it.  They  had  their 
all  in  that  world,  and  from  it  their  all  is  taken.  The  strength  of  the 
world  is  sin.  When  men  become  holy,  the  world  becomes  weaker  as  an 
opposition  to  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  Now,  all  his  people  are  in  a  sense 
out  of  the  world  ;  they  are  no  longer  the  friends  of  its  spirit,  its  philos- 
ophy, its  fashions,  or  its  iniquities.  To  all  these  things,  as  antagonists 
to  Christ,  they  are  antagonists ;  and  in  this  antagonism  the  foundation 
of  the  mediatorial  reign  on  earth  and  over  earth  is  laid.  So  far  as.  his 
people  are  concerned,  the  Avorld,  the  devil,  and  the  flesh  must  be  con- 
tinually losing  ground.  We  say  it  must  be,  for  it  is  not  conjectural  ; 
we  can  not  conceive  of  it  otherwise  without  admitting  that  the  loss  of 


ALTAR     JOLD.  679 

numbers,  of  strength,  and  of  position,  is  favorable  to  a  bad  cause.  The 
cause,  wliatever  be  its  pretensions,  from  which  the  virtuous  and  the 
brave  retire,  is  doomed.  We  are  in  darkness  when  the  sun  goes  down  ; 
we  languish  when  there  is  dearth  of  the  staff  of  life  ;  our  bodies  molder 
and  decay  when  the  soul  has  quitted  them ;  and  so  must  it  be  with  the 
evil  that  is  in  the  world.  Abandoned  by  so  many,  that  evil  has  no 
longer  the  advantage  of  their  presence,  of  their  riches,  of  their  favor — 
and  to  all  that  extent  it  is  impoverished  and  weakened.  It  must  not  be 
foi-gotten,  then,  that  our  Saviour  has  handed  over  his  cause  to  a  party 
who  stands  in  this  negative  relationship  to  the  kingdom  of  darkness. 

But  this  is  not  all:  there  is  consecration  as  well  as  abandonment  in  the 
sacrifices  he  requires.  Not  only  must  they  withdraw  heart,  and  soul, 
and  substance,  from  the  world,  but  they  must  invest  all  these  things  in  his 
cause.  They  must  and  they  do  give  their  own  selves,  in  the  first  place  ; 
and  then,  all  they  have  they  hand  over  to  him.  They  are  not  only  neg- 
ative in  their  infi:uence,  but  most  positive.  Their  very  life,  indeed,  is  the 
most  active  and  powerful  of  all  his  agencies ;  it  is  salt,  and  savors  all 
around  it ;  it  is  leaven,  and  leavens  all  around  it ;  it  is  light,  and  illumes 
all  around  it.  It  is  for  this  very  end  that  they  have  been  taken  out  of 
the  world  and  put  into  the  Church.  To  bless  the  world  is  their  voca- 
tion— shall  we  say  it  is  their  necessity  ? — they  can  not  help  themselves  ; 
they  must  do  it.  The  sun  can  do  nothing  but  shine  ;  the  mountain 
streams  can  not  but  roll  do\\Ti  toward  ocean  ;  the  earth  must  yield  its 
fruits  in  tlieir  season ;  and  the  laws  of  nature  must  control  nature.  Do 
we  ever  tremble  lest  the  planets  lose  their  way  and  dash,  off  from  theii' 
orbits  ?  or  that  thorns  and  briars  shall  come  up  from  the  seeds  of  the 
corn  and  the  olive  ?  or  that  the  greater  orbs  shall  falsify  their  prestige 
and  forget  to  illuminate  the  system?  We  never  do  ;  neither  should  we 
ever  doubt  of  the  necessary  eflicacy  of  the  Church.  That  Church  has 
truth  in  the  center  of  her  system,  and  truth  is  as  certainly  a  light-diffus- 
ing constellation  as  any  firmamcntal  cluster.  Besides,  his  Church  has 
always  possession  of  the  influences  of  the  Holy  S])irit,  Avhich  can  no  move 
be  misdirected,  resisted,  or  made  eccentric,  than  the  "  sweet  influences 
of  Pleiades  or  the  bands  of  Orion."  Under  the  bidding  and  help  of  that 
Spirit,  his  people  throw  their  whole  energies  into  the  cause  of  Christ. 
They  are  so  absorbed  in  it  as  to  live,  alid  move,  and  have  their  being  in 
it.  They  are  enthusiasts,  enlightened  enthusiasts,  and  are  sure  to  ac- 
complish their  ends.  They  have  accomplished  all  the  Christianity  that 
ever  has  blessed  or  that  now  blesses  mankind,  and  they  alone  Avill  finish 
what  remains  of  the  glorious  work.  How  can  we  doubt  it?  Do  we  not 
at  this  moment  feel  the  earth  heaving  under  the  infiuence  of  their  faith 
and  zeal?  Do  Ave  not  know  that  the  abodes  of  vice,  idolatry,  and  super 
stition,  are  every  day  and  everywhere  approached  and  blessed  by  their 
love  ?  Do  we  not  see  the  cordon  of  their  charity  drawn  around  the 
globe  ?    And  do  we  not  listen  to  their  manifestoes,  in  every  language,  that 


g30  JOHN     McFAULANE. 

"  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  save  sinners  ?"  They  are  so 
devoted,  indeed,  that  no  power  hitherto  has  repelled  them.  If  it  could 
have  been  done,  it  would  have  been  done  long  ago,  for  Christ's  adver- 
saries seem  to  have  come  to  the  bottom  of  their  genius  for  cruel  inven- 
tions. They  have  done  their  worst :  still  the  cause  triumphs  in  the 
Church's  hands.  Our  confidence  then  is,  that  the  Most  High,  who  is  in 
the  midst  of  Zion,  will  continue  to  anoint  her  people  with  the  spirit  of 
the  "  Ancient  of  Days,"  and  that  her  treasury  shall  never  cease  to  draw 
toward  itself  the  riches  of  the  world  until  a  second  Moses  appears,  to 
l^roclaim,  "  It  is  enough." 

But  long  before  the  dawn  of  this  remarkable  period  there  must  be  and 
there  shall' be  sacrifices,  oi  ^pcGidiar  kind  in  behalf  of  the  gospel  of  our 
Lord,  by  means  of  which  that  gospel  shall  be  made  greatly  to  triumph. 
We  allude  to  the  pecuniary  gifts  of  Christians  to  this  cause.  It  is  aston- 
ishing how  much  depends  upon  and  how  much  has  been  gained  for 
Christ  by  such  sacrifices.  At  first  view,  the  arrangement  seems  to  be 
mysterious.  The  spiritual  and  heavenly  cause  of  Christ  dependent  in 
any  degree  on  gold  and  silver !  How  comes  this  ?  Is  it  not  unworthy 
of  him  to  whom  the  earth  belongs,  and  the  fullness  thereof,  that  he 
should  have  risked  the  character  and  staked  the  destiny  of  his  kingdom 
;ipon  that  lucre  to  which  the  human  heart  clings  with  such  greed,  and 
the  incessant  demand  for  whicli,  in  his  name,  so  often  perplexes  the 
Church  and  ofiends  at  least  her  nominal  friends  ?  If  a  verdict  were  to 
be  called  for,  even  from  many  who  have  said,  "  Lord,  Lord !"  would  it 
not  be  against  the  kindness,  if  not  the  propriety,  of  this  financial  law  of 
his  house  ?  Now,  we  admit  that  there  are  many  things  in  the  conduct 
of  Christians  themselves  that  bring  this  law  into  reproach  ;  for  it  is 
clear,  that  what  may  be  called  the  Christianity  of  money  is  a  subject 
very  fiir  from  being  either  understood  or  practiced  as  it  ought  to  be. 
Still  it  is  not  diflUcuit  to  defend  the  statute  in  question,  either  as  to  its 
wisdom,  justice,  or  kindness. 

One  thing  is  certain,  the  Lamb  stands  in  no  absolute  need  of  such 
pecuniary  sacrifices :  he  could  easily  have  devised  methods  by  which, 
without  a  farthing  of  money,  his  gospel  could  have  been  carried  in  tri- 
umph everywhere ;  or,  even  admitting  their  usefulness,  he  could  have 
had  the  command  of  thousands  of  gold  and  of  silver  by  simply  creating 
them  for  himself^  as  he  produced  the  silver  coin  in  the  mouth  of  the  fish 
to  pay  a  tax.  He  has  preferred,  however,  to  ask  his  own  riches  from  his 
own  friends.  He  gave  them  these  that  they  might  have  the  honor  and 
the  happiness  to  restore  them  by  consecrating  them  to  him.  This  is 
truly  an  admirable  constitution  of  things.  It  acts  and  reacts  in  blessed- 
ness. It  is  the  safety  of  his  own  people.  Nothing  so  easily  displaces 
him  from  their  afifections  as  money.  Besides,  money  is  the  world's  idol. 
There  is  no  carnal  power  which  Satan  uses  with  such  deadly  aim  against 
the  spiritual  power  of  the  cross.     Is  it  not  the  "  bright  day  that  bringa 


ALTAR-GOLD.  qqi 

forth  the  adder  ?"  Has  not  mcrease  in  riches  often  occasioned  decrease 
in  godliness  ?  And  has  not  "  prosperity  often  the  same  eftect  on  a 
Christian  that  a  cahn  at  sea  has  on  the  maiiner,  who  tics  up  the  rudder, 
gets  intoxicated  and  goes  to  sleep  ?"  It  is  kind  in  him,  then,  to  take  it 
out  of  the  affections  and  out  of  the  Avay  of  his  disciples.  The  financial 
law  of  his  Church  does  so.  It  commands  the  silver  and  the  gold  into  his 
service.  How  profound,  then,  the  administrative  wisdum  of  him  who,  by 
the  more  than  magic  touch  of  his  wand  of  autliority,  makes  tlie  idol  him- 
self step  down  from  his  pedestal  in  the  temple  of  Mammon,  to  become 
the  willing  servant  of  God  in  the  temple  of  salvation!  How  exquisitely 
beautiful  the  plan  that  persuades  men  to  break  their  gold  and  silver  to 
l)ieces,  wherewith  to  build,  and  bless,  and  beautify  many  such  temples  in 
this  weary  Avorld  !  How  affectingly  tender  the  statute  that  causes  bless- 
ings purely  spiritual  to  flow  through  the  channel  of  such  liberality? 
And,  oh,  how  worthy  of  him  who  can  not  be  imposed  upon  by  mere 
profession,  and  who  authenticates  genuine  discipleship  by  unmistakable 
credentials,  to  institute,  as  one  of  its  tests,  a  system  of  self  denial  Avhich 
very  jiowerfully  discriminates  Christian  character  ! 

For  all  these  reasons,  then,  we  justify  the  plan  which  our  Lord  has 
adopted  for  the  maintenance,  extension,  and  final  success  of  his  gosi^el. 
He  certainly  has  left  it  to  his  people's  affections  and  management ;  but 
Avhen  we  consider  the  principles  in  them  to  which  he  appeals,  the  organ- 
ization among  them  through  which  he  works,  and  the  sacrifices  Avhich 
he  requires  at  their  hands,  we  need  be  under  no  apprehension  about  its 
safety.  It  is  well  ordered,  and  it  shall  turn  out  to  the  world's  advantage 
and  to  the  Saviour's  own  satisfaction  and  glory. 


IL   THE  WORTEK^ESS  OF  CHRIST  TO  RECEIVE  THE  RICHES  OP  MEif, 
This  worthiness  is  threefold — absolute^  jjersonal,  and  mediatorial. 

1.  It  is  an  absolute  loorthiness. 

This  right  to  human  riches  is  peculiar  to  a  creator — and  "  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain"  is  the  Creator  ;  "  by  him  all  things  were  made."  "  The 
silver  is  mine  and  the  gold  is  mine,"  saith  the  Lord  ;  "  the  earth  is  full 
of  thy  riches,"  says  the  Psalmist.  If  there  be,  as  Job  says,  "  a  vein  for 
the  silver  and  a  place  for  the  gold,"  it  is  because  the  "  Lord  has  formed 
them"  therein.  The  same  thing  is  true  of  any  property,  and  of  all  the 
representations  of  what  is  called  '■'■  capital.^^  "  God  made  the  cattle  after 
their  kind."  The  words  of  Laban  to  Jacob  were  not  true  in  his  mouth, 
but  in  the  Saviour's  mouth  they  are  absolutely  true,  "  these  daughters 
are  my  daughters,  and  these  children  arc  my  children,  and  these  cattle 
are  my  cattle,  and  all  that  thou  seest  is  mine  ;"  "  the  cattle  upon  a  thou- 
sand hills  is  mine" — yea,  his  is  also  the  very  food  on  which  they  live ; 
for  it  is  written,  "  he  causeth  the  grass  to  grow  for  the  cattle  ;"  and 


682  JOHN     McFARLAKE. 

hence  it  is  that  "beasts  and  all  cattle  praise  the  Lord."  Besides,  he  it  is 
that  gives  riches.  It  is  a  common  expression,  that  such  an  one  has 
"  made  money ;"  how,  no  one  ever  did  so,  either  in  the  sense  of  creat- 
ing or  merithig  it.  Though  it  be  written,  "  the  hand  of  the  diligent 
inaketh  rich,"  and  though  it  be  true  that  there  is  a  connection  between 
skillful  industry  and  prosperity,  yet  it  is  not  true  absolutely  that  money 
is  made  by  thrift  or  amassed  by  success.  The  very  talent  expended 
upon  the  handicraft  or  the  speculation  is  itself  a  gift.  "  Thou  shalt  re- 
member the  Lord  thy  God,  for  it  is  he  that  giveth  thee  power  to  get 
wealth."  It  was  to  keep  Solomon  humble  that  God  said  to  him,  "  I 
have  also  given  thee  both  riches  and  honor ;"  and  Solomon  indorsed 
this  truth  when  he  wrote,  "  the  blessing  of  the  Lord,  it  maketh  rich." 
It  was  one  of  God's  heaviest  charges  against  some,  that  they  did  not 
know  that  "  he  gave  them  the  corn  and  wine  and  oil,  and  multiplied 
their  silver  and  gold."  And,  as  it  is  the  Saviour  that  makes  and  gives, 
so  it  is  he  that  blesses  the  money  in  the  usbig.  Money  is  a  curse  to  any 
man  if  it  comes  unblessed.  It  is  so  to  his  own  people,  even  when  they 
have  thirsted  after  it  for  their  own  sake.  He  has  given  them  their 
desire — their  idol  has  been  set  up  in  their  house  and  in  their  heart,  but 
along  with  that  idol  came  his  priests  of  blood  and  instruments  of  tor- 
ture ;  and  from  the  day  that  riches  increased,  their  happiness  and  their 
spiritualit}  too  declined.  Many  a  good  man  has  lived  to  regret  the  day 
when  riches  began  to  flow  upon  him.  Better,  O,  better  far,  a  blessed 
poverty,  than  an  unblessed  wealth  !  When,  however,  that  Avcalth  is 
blessed,  it  is  wealth  indeed  ;  and  all  such  blessing  cometh  by  the  Lord, 
and  can  come  from  no  other  quarter. 

2.  But,  secondly,  it  is  also  persona 

There  lives  not  a  man  qualified  to  the  sinless  use  of  money.  The  best 
of  men  are  more  than  jealous,  they  are  afraid,  of  it ;  they  know  it  to  be 
the  root  of  evil — that  its  possession  entails  heavy  responsibilities — and 
that  it  powerfully  tempts  the  heart  to  love  the  present  world,  and  thus 
to  forget  God.  Jesus  Christ  alone  can  be  trusted  with  it.  He  can  make 
the  best  use  of  it.  For  himself  he  needs  it  not :  in  his  eye  it  is  filthy 
lucre.  Besides,  he  alone  of  all  intelligent  beings  has  read  the  history  of 
money.  He  has  long  seen  how  it  deceives  man  with  promises  false  and 
vain,  and  liow  it  mounts  into  the  Father's  throne  and  steals  away  the 
affections  of  his  children.  He  has  especially  watched  its  chameleon  hues, 
its  ever-changing  shapes — how  at  one  time  it  forms  itself  into  a  s]>lendid 
image,  makes  its  lovers  fall  down  in  worship,  and  then  itself  falls  upon 
and  crushes  them  almost  to  death  :  thereafter  he  has  seen  it  assume  tlie 
figure  of  beautiful  charity,  working  upon  the  pieces  of  gold  into  which 
it  has  been  broken,  and  laying  them  down  as  so  many  steps  by  which  its 
victims  may  rise  again,  but  only  to  cling  to  the  horns  of  the  I'harisee's 
altar.  Anoii,  he  has  beheld  it  passing  into  the  "viewless  form  of  a  lovely 


ALTAR-GOLD. 


683 


sound,"  or  into  the  luscious  figures  of  Angelo's  chisel  or  liaphaers  pen- 
cil, and  thus  so  to  bewitch  its  admirers  as  to  make  them  unconscioua 
of  their  subjugation  to  the  goddess  of  licentiousness.  Yes :  he  has  fol- 
lowed this  Moloch  everywhere,  and  tried  his  spirits  and  denounced  his 
deceits.  He  himselfj  however,  is  perfectly  safe  from  the  evils  of  riches. 
And  why  ?  Because  he  alone  puts  them  to  their  proper  use.  He  receives, 
but  he  does  not  over-estimate  them.  They  may  be  laid  down  before 
him,  but  they  never  rise  higher.  He  stoops  not  to  touch  them — as  for 
his  heart,  it  knows  them  not.  By  his  will  they  are  immediately  dis- 
missed on  errands  of  salvation.  They  never  accumulate  interest  by 
lying  in,  but  by  being  sent  out  of,  his  Church,  to  bless  the  world. 
Emanating  from  him,  they  assume  every  variety  of  beautiful  and  blissful 
forms — they  become  brothers  and  sisters  of  mercy,  bread  to  the  hungiy, 
wine  to  the  faint,  comfort  to  the  afflicted,  society  to  the  forsaken,  pardon 
to  the  guilty.  Worthy  indeed  is  he  "to  receive  riches,"  who  thus  re- 
commissions  them  into  our  miserable  world — who  thus  lets  them  down 
again  as  so  many  angels  to  distribute  the  golden  vessels  of  love  amoug 
the  sons  of  men.  "VVe  may  have  our  misgivings  about  lending  money  to 
one  another,  or  about  its  safest  investment,  but  we  should  have  none  in 
giving  it  to  Christ.  It  is  the  only  loan  of  which  we  can  never  repent. 
-Se,  indeed^  gives  the  highest  rate  of  interest.  He  himself  indicates  what 
that  rate  shall  be  :  "  Every  one  that  hath  forsaken  houses,  or  brethren,  or 
sister,  or  mother,  or  wife,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  my  name's  sake, 
shall  receive  an  hu^stdredfold,  and  shall  inherit  everlasting  life."  Our 
fathers  used  to  talk  of  "  the  bank  of  faith,"  and  spake  highly  of  its  liberal 
discount.  They  told  the  shareholders  of  their  time  that  it  Avas  not  only 
dutiful,  but  most  lucrative,  to  invest  their  all  in  that  bank — that  their 
Lord  had  always  done  with  their  money  what  Joseph  did  with  that  of 
his  brethren,  Mhen  they  came  to  buy  corn  in  Egypt,  "  returned  it  to 
them  in  their  sacks'  mouth" — that  they  had  never  helped  Christ  without 
receiving  a  prophet's  reward  in  the  unfailing  barrel  of  meal  and  cruse  of 
oil— and  that  they  had  never  suffered  reverses,  and  for  Christ's  sake 
taken  "joyfully  the  spoiling  of  their  goods,"  without  having  it  in  their 
power  to  indorse  the  record  of  the  patriarch's  profits  where  it  is  said, 
"  every  man  also  gave  him  a  piece  of  money,  and  every  one  an  earrhig 
of  gold ;  so  the  Lord  blessed  the  latter  end  of  Job  more  than  his 
beginning." 

And  what  shall  we  think  of  this  personal  worthiness  of  the  Lamb, 
when  to  all  this  we  add  the  highest  view  of  the  matter — viz.,  the 
equivalents  which  are  given  to  his  people  in  return  for  their  riches  ? 
These  are  nothing  less  than  saved  and  glorified  souls.  What  a  sublime 
and  mysterious  reproduction  of  riches  is  this  !  Yes,  liberal  devisers !  to 
keep  you  humble,  not  only  shall  all  your  moneys  be  restored  at  the  gates 
of  heaven,  but,  to  raise  to  their  loftiest  pitch  your  first  hallelujahs,  there 
you  shall  be  welcomed  by  many  of  the  children  of  Zion  mIio  were  told 


(584  JOHN     McFARLANE. 

of  redeeming  love  in  the  Bibles  printed,  and  from  the  lips  of  the  mis- 
sionary supported,  by  your  Christian  liberality.  If  blushes  are  ever 
known  above,  what  must  be  their  feelings  who,  on  their  arrival  in  heaven, 
meet  their  gifts  to  the  Lamb  at  every  step  in  the  "  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect,"  and,  as  it  were,  hear  the  merry  ring  of  their  coins  in  the 
songs  and  shouts  of  these  ransomed  ones  ! 

3.  In  the  third  place,  this  worthiness  is  mediatorial. 

Beholding  him  as  "  the  Lamb  that  was  slain,"  the  angels  and  saints 
emphatically  proclaim  him  to  be  worthy  to  receive  riches.  Mediatorial 
worthiness  has  a  depth  which  can  not  be  flithomed,  a  height  Avhich  can 
not  be  scaled,  a  breadth  which  can  not  be  measured,  and  a  length  which 
can  not  be  told.  Had  I  the  heart  of  a  seraph  and  the  tongue  of  an 
angel,  I  should  miserably  fail  in  doing  justice  to  such  a  theme.  And 
yet  it  can  not  be  passed  over — we  must,  however  feebly  uttered,  cast  in 
our  cheerful  notes  along  with  the  swelling  anthems  of  the  celestial  or- 
chestra, and  we  must  say  for  him  Avhat  we  can,  though  that  be  but  a 
word.  Yes,  infinitely  lovely  Lord  Jesus,  condescend  even  now  to  receive 
our  rapturous  acknowledgments  of  thy  inefiably  glorious  and  irresistible 
claims  upon  the  riches  of  men,  because  thou  "  wast  slain  for  us  !"  We 
were  all  lost — ^lost  m  the  loss  of  thy  Father's  image — lost  for  time,  for 
eternity  lost ;  when  thou,  thou  alone,  didst  pity  our  Mien  and  wretched 
humanity,  and  by  thy  perfect  obedience  and  propitiatory  death,  didst 
deliver  our  souls  from  hell  and  purchase  for  us  a  title  to  eternal  life. 
"  Thou  art  the  Lamb  that  loas  slain."  And  has  not  the  Church  its 
grandest  and  most  overpowering  appeal  from  this  consideration  ?  Who 
can  gainsay  her  when  she  asks  riches  for  the  diffusion  of  Christ's  blessed 
gospel  on  the  ground  of  such  a  plea  ?  The  apostle  seems  to  thhdc  that 
he  exhausts  the  argument  for  missions  when  he  says,  "  Ye  know  the 
grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  that  though  he  M^as  rich,  for  your  sakes 
he  became  poor,  that  ye  through  his  j^overty  might  be  made  rich  ;"  and 
exhausted  indeed  it  is.     Was  he  not  rich  f 

Think  of  his  absolute  glory,  as  the  equal  of  the  Father — of  his  relative 
glory,  as  that  Father's  well-beloved  Son — and  of  his  declarative  glory, 
as  shining  forth  in  the  splendor  of  creation  and  the  revelations  of  prov- 
idence, and  as  expressed  by  the  jubilant  hosannas  of  ten  thousand 
times  ten  thousand  hearts — and  say,  was  he  not  rich  :  rich  in  infinite 
complacency  with  himself  as  the  perfect  One,  rich  in  the  smiles  and 
within  the  bosom  of  his  Father's  love,  and  rich  in  the  holy  affections  of 
these  adoring  myriads  ?  And  yet,  though  thus  rich,  "  he  became  poor," 
Was  he  not  poor  ?  Think  of  the  vail  that  was  hung  over  his  divme 
glory — of  his  departure  from  that  Father's  bosom,  and  from  the  praises 
and  services  of  these  innumerable  hosts.  Think  of  such  a  person  as  this 
behig  born  of  a  woman,  and  that  in  a  low  condition — of  his  continuing 
till  death  in  a  state  of  poverty,  having  not  even  where  to  lay  his  head — 


ALT,\R-GOLD.  (535 

of  his  enduring  the  contradiction  of  sinners — of  his  submission  without 
a  murmur  to  all  the  sinless  ills  of  Ufe,  and  of  his  last  dying  on  the  ac- 
cursed tree  ;  and  all  this  in  ovr  room^  all  "/or  ?<s,"  that  he  might 
thereby  satisfy  divine  law  and  justice,  and  lay  deep  the  foundations  6f 
that  mercy  wherein  so  many  precious  souls  have  been  made  to  rejoice  in 
the  blessedness  of  pardon,  pniity,  peace,  and  heaven.  Was  there  ever 
such  a  stoop  of  majesty  as  this — such  a  descent  from  the  heights  of  glory 
to  the  depths  of  infamy — such  a  fall  from  the  bosom  of  divine  Father- 
hood to  the  lap  of  human  poverty — such  an  ignominy  or  such  a  curse  as 
this,  to  be  made  the  victim  of  men  and  devils,  to  be  hurried  out  of  the 
very  world  he  came  to  save,  and  to  be  enduring,  along  with  it  all,  the 
righteous  wrath  of  God,  without  complaint,  without  a  word,  that  we  his 
enemies  might  attain  an  everlasting  redemption — that  we  might  rise 
from  our  poverty,  through  his  poverty,  into  the  wealth  and  health  of  im- 
mortality, and  that  not  one  but  millions  of  sinners,  not  one  but  every 
nation,  not  the  past  only  and  the  present,  but  all  and  every  generation, 
should  have  scattered  before  them  in  their  march  to  glory  the  whole  of 
the  unsearchable  riches  of  his  love,  all  of  them  alike  welcome,  and  all 
without  money  and  without  price. 

In  vain  do  we  search  for  argument,  and  in  vain  do  we  ask  for  justice, 
if  claims  such  as  these  fail  to  convince.  That  heart,  that  society,  that 
Church,  which  can  resist  appeals  coming  from  the  mediatorial  worthiness, 
need  never  be  assailed  from  any  other  point.  It  will  be  useless  to  describe 
the  deplorable  condition  of  the  heathen  world,  the  miseries  of  savage 
life,  the  cruelties  and  delusions  of  idolatry,  and  the  perdition  of  the 
immortal  soul — these  may  collect  a  little  from  the  sentimentality  of  a 
momentary  benevolence,  but  they  are  not  able  to  command  Ironi  the 
Church  a  sufficient  and  a  steady  revenue.  We  must  rise  high,  as  high 
as  we  can,  in  our  appeals  for  riches  to  aid  our  missions :  and  higher  we 
can  not  rise  than  to  the  blood  of  the  dying  Lamb  of  God. 

Perhaps  we  have  been  experimenting  too  much  ujjon  the  mere  sym- 
pathy of  human  nature  with  its  own  miseries.  If  so,  we  have  not  hith- 
erto found  this  to  be  a  sufficient  power.  The  appeal  strikes  too  low — it 
meets  with  too  much  of  human  avarice  and  cruelty  even  in  the  avenues 
of  its  own  benevolent  yearnings.  Let  ns  then  try  more  than  ever  to  urge 
our  demands  for  riches  to  Christ,  upon  the  plea  of  his  priceless  love.  If 
we  do  so,  we  can  not  strike  our  aj)peal  on  a  loftier  or  more  subduing  key 
— we  can  not  lay  a  firmer  fulcrum,  upon  which  to  move  the  lever  that 
shall  remove  the  Avorld's  gold  into  the  cofl^ers  of  the  world's  Redeemer. 
As  Benjamin  Franklin  sent  his  kite  up  to  the  clouds,  to  fetch  down  to 
him  the  very  electricity  of  heaven,  so  must  Ave  do  with  our  thoughts, 
our  arguments,  and  our  appeals  in  this  grand  theme  ;  we  must  send  them 
first  of  all  up  to  "  the  most  excellent  glory,"  and,  deriving  thence  their 
awful  power,  their  soul-entrancing  beauty,  and  their  lightning  speed,  we 
may  confidently  await  an  issue  which  shall  turn  fable  into  fact  and  fiction 


(536  JOHN     McFARLANE 

into  truth — which  shall  suhstitiite  for  the  i^hilosopher's  stone  the  rent 
rock  of  Calvary,  converting  all  that  touches  it  into  gold — yea,  "  the 
most  fine  gold." 


III.  THE  WITNESSES  TO  HIS  WORTHINESS. 

The  judges  in  this  matter  are  the  angels  and  the  saints  in  glory. 
"And  I  beheld  (says  John),  and,  lo,  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  and  of 
the  four  beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  elders,  stood  a  Lamb  as  it  had 
been  slain,  having  seven  horns  and  seven  eyes,  which  are  the  seven  spirits 
of  God  sent  forth  into  all  the  earth.  And  I  beheld,  and  I  heard  tlie 
voice  of  many  angels  round  about  the  throne,  and  the  beasts  and  the 
elders ;  and  the  number  of  them  was  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand, 
and  thousands  of  thousands,  saying  with  a  loud  voice,  Worthy  is  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive — riches."  Now,  that  these  celestial 
beings  have  opportunities  and  capacities  for  judging  peculiar  to  them- 
selves, and  which  entitle  them  to  our  highest  consideration,  will  appear 
if  we  regard,  in  the  first  place,  their  position  ;  and,  secondly,  their  state 
of  mind  when  forming  and  expressing  their  opinions. 

1.  Let  us  regard,  in  the  first  place,  their  position. 

It  must  be  admitted  to  be  the  very  best  that  can  be  occupied.  They 
are  in  heaven ;  they  are  therefore  upon  those  heights  of  knowledge, 
devotion,  and  experience,  from  which  they  can  look  down  upon  and  take 
the  just  measure  of  all  worldly  affairs — from  which  especially  they  can 
comprehend  the  w^hole  domain,  within  and  without,  of  mere  wealth, 
Avith  its  perils  and  temptations  to  the  sons  of  men.  The  angels  have 
enjoyed  the  finest  opportunities  of  watching  whereunto  money  and  the 
love  of  it  would  grow,  but  for  the  restraints  of  providence  and  of  grace. 
Many  an  aM'ful  shipwreck  of  moral  and  spiritual  treasure  have  they  seen 
upon  the  fickle  sea  of  life.  On  that  sea  there  may  be  few  buoys  or  sig- 
nals to  indicate  Avhere  lie  the  sunken  rocks  or  the  shifting  sands  ;  but  to 
them  there  are  abundance  of  such  marks  in  their  recollections  of  the 
spots  where  the  frail  barks  of  mortality  have  been  so  often  dashed  to 
pieces.  Li  the  gratification  of  a  holy  curiosity,  they  have  often  followed 
out  the  human  experiment  of  seeking  for  happiness  in  money.  They 
have  seen  with  amazement  the  worldling  begin  his  sordid  course,  with  a 
cool  and  daring  dismissal  of  God  from  his  heart  and  head — they  have 
seen  him  next  wrap  tightly  around  his  soul  the  miser's  mantle,  shut  up 
and  bar  his  bowels  of  mercy,  retire  into  the  dark  cell  of  self,  and  hear 
and  see  and  know  nothing  and  no  one  that  bring  not  along  with  them  a 
gift.  They  have  seen  him  swell  out  into  bigger  proportions  as  riches  grew, 
but  never  in  the  direction  of  piety  or  charity.  They  have  noticed  him 
in  the  circles  of  sociality,  in  the  organizations  of  science,  in  the  institu- 
tions of  mercy,  and  in  the  assemblies  of  the  saints ;  but  they  never  saw 


ALTAR-GOLD.  ggy 

him  part  ^ylih  his  gold,  even  to  gratify  his  self-importance.  They  have 
followed  him,  when  lie  became  a  sensualist,  into  the  temples  of  pleasure, 
where  lust  Avrung  even  from  him  a  momentary  gratification  ;  but  whether 
his  money  got  a  palace,  a  title,  an  inheritance,  or  a  kingdom,  satisfaction 
it  never  gained  for  him.  Yea,  in  speechless  wonder  that  an  immortal 
soul  could  waste  its  sacred  fires  on  such  absolute  trifles,  and  be  drawn 
together  into  such  narrow  and  shriveled  dimensions,  they  have  gone 
down  with  him  to  liis  lone  and  wretched  hovel,  have  listened  to  the 
psalms  he  has  sung  and  to  the  prayers  he  has  offered  up  to  those  gods 
of  gold  that  meanwhile  mocked  and  chattered  over  the  poor  creature 
lying  at  their  feet ;  but  they  never  heai-d  one  expression  of  thankful- 
ness, never  saw  one  sign  of  joy,  even  when  the  silver  shrines  gleamed 
most  brightly  or  the  golden  eyes  filled  the  miser's  den  with  their  wild- 
est glares.  And,  at  length,  they  have  gone  to  his  death-bed,  to  see  how 
much  the  avarice  of  a  lifetime  could  do  for  a  dying  hour ;  but,  alas,  how 
agonizing  the  scene  !  Let  us  not  ask  these  beautiful  beings  to  detail  to 
us  the  tortures  of  a  rich  man's  soul  who  has  to  seek  God  in  that  dark 
night.  Let  us  believe  that  riches  are  not  for  men,  when  angels  emphat- 
ically pronounce  that  the  Lamb  who  was  slain  is  alone  worthy  to 
receive  them. 

Moreover,  the  position  occupied  by  these  holy  beings  lets  them  see 
the  full  bearings  of  riches  upon  the  2^1'ogress  of  the  RedeemeT''s  cause. 
They  can  judge  of  the  importance  of  Bibles,  ordinances,  and  missions ; 
and,  seeing  all  these  rise  into  influence  from  the  pious  tise  of  money, 
they  know  exactly  its  wortb  and  its  place  in  the  economics  of  Christian- 
ity. Employed  otherwise  than  in  the  serWce  of  the  Lamb,  they  see  it 
running  to  and  fro  to  gratify  appetite,  to  breed  ungodliness,  to  destroy 
souls.  Carefully  weighing  the  case,  not  in  the  balances  of  time  and  the 
flesh,  but  in  those  of  the  soul  and  of  eternity,  they  conclude  that  the 
only  being  wearing  the  human  form  to  whom  riches  can  be  safely 
intrusted  is  the  Saviour,  all  whose  treasures  go  to  instruct  the  ignorant, 
reclaim  the  sinner,  and  restore  the  soul ;  thus  drying  up  the  sources  of 
human  grief,  canceling  guilt,  and  opening  heaven. 

2.  But  let  us  regard^  in  the  second  place.,  their  state  of  mind  inhen  form- 

inrj  or  eifjyressinf/  their  opinion. 

It  seems  enough  to  say,  that  from  their  being  absolutely  independent 
of  riches,  they  can,  without  partiality,  pronounce  upon  their  real  value. 
A  state  of  dependence  is  not  the  most  favorable  to  a  sound  mind  in  mat- 
ters of  relative  obligation.  There  was  no  gold  in  the  earthly  Canaan: 
when  it  was  needed,  Solomon  had  to  send  to  Ophir,  What  a  beautiful 
type,  this,  of  the  heavenly  !  There  is  not  only  no  gold  there,  but  there 
is  no  need  of  it.  Unless  for  some  benevolent  purpose,  the  very  word 
that  describes  it  would  never  be  whispered  there.  To  them  it  is 
nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  however  much  it  may  be  worshiped  on 


ggg  JOHN     McFARLANE. 

earth.  If  so,  they  must  believe  that  it  is  less  than  nothing  to  their  God, 
except  in  its  Christian  itnion  with  the  work  of  hmiian  redemption.  Thus 
are  they  precisely  in  the  state  of  mind  -which  educes  an  impartial  judg- 
ment. The  angels  can  not  use  it — the  saints  have  no  use  for  it ;  so  that, 
when  thinking  of  its  fictitious  value  in  this  world,  they  are  competent  to 
say  which  is  worthiest  to  receive  it — men,  or  the  Savionr  of  men. 
When  to  this  we  add  their  moi'al  and  spiritual  perfection,  we  see  at  a 
glance  that  such  judges  can  not  err  either  in  opinion  or  action.  ISTo 
clouds  hover  about,  and  no  misconceptions  enter,  their  minds.  Educa- 
tion is  complete,  and  ideas  on  all  subjects  must  be  just  and  good  ; 
especially  on  that  most  important  of  all  subjects  to  them,  the  worth  of 
the  Lamb.  Now  they  know  him  as  they  are  known,  see  him  as  he  is, 
and  feel  their  obligations  as  they  ought.  The  angelic  portion  of  them 
have  been  students  of  redeeming  love  from  the  first  of  days,  and  have 
been  learning  for  thousands  of  ages,  by  the  Church,  the  manifold  wisdom 
of  God.  Well  acquainted,  then,  they  must  be  with  the  work  and  the 
worth  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  saints,  too,  now  appreciate  as  they  ought 
him  who  loved  them  and.  gave  himself  for  them — who  suffered,  and  bled, 
and  died,  in  their  room. 

But  here  we  may  be  permitted  to  appeal  to  Cliristians  still  below,  and 
to  ask  them  to  pronounce  their  judgment  on  this  weighty  matter.  Are 
we  of  the  same  mind  with  our  sainted  friends  and  the  angels?  We  cer- 
tainly are.  The  Christian  state  not  only  proves,  but  necessitates  it„ 
There  is  a  difference  but  only  in  the  degree,  not  in  the  nature,  of  the 
judgment  formed.  Above,  they  feel  and  act  in  harmony  with  their  con- 
victions. We  do  not;  and,  because  of  this  inconsistency,  it  is  needful  to 
remind  one  another  of  our  obligations,  and  to  argue  and  plead  for  the 
cause  of  Christ.  Strictly  speaking,  we  can  not  ask  Christians  to  give 
themselves  and  their  all  to  Christ ;  this  they  have  done  already  in  their 
abandonment  and  consecration.  What  we  say  is,  let  their  gifts  be  more 
in  proportion  to  their  promises  ;  let  their  sacrifices  be  counterparts  to 
their  obligations.  We  have  set  before  us,  in  Christ  himself,  the  stature 
of  a  perfect  liberalitj^ ;  and  though  none  here  have  ever  reached  it,  it  is 
the  duty  of  all  to  strive  to  attain.  A  Christian  is  constantly  rising  up  to 
it ;  his  efforts  amount  at  once  to  a  duty  and  to  a  privilege.  How  inter- 
esting it  is  to  look  back  upon  the  tides  of  Christian  munificence  !  With 
what  extraordinary  regularity  have  these  risen  in  the  Church  and  ebbed 
from  the  world !  Checkered  now  and  then  they  have  been,  seemingly 
ebbing  from  the  Church,  and  flowing  toward  the  world  ;  but,  in  the 
main,  these  tides  have  been  always  rising  round  about  "  the  Rock  of  Sal- 
vation." Something  dej)ends  on  how  you  view  their  motions.  Objects 
in  nature  present  widely  different  aspects,  according  to  the  dispositions 
of  hght  and  shade  ;  so  do  objects  in  the  spiritual  region :  they  are 
variously  judged  of,  according  to  the  purity  of  the  medium  and  the  state 
and  power  of  the  faculties  of  observation.     When  we  stand,  for  instance, 


ALTAR-GOLD.  689 

on  old  ocean's  shore,  there  are  times  in  which  we  are  puzzled  to  say 
wliether  his  waters  advance  or  recede  ;  oft,  when  flowing,  Ave  think  they 
ebb:  so  it  may  be  AAnth  our  impressions  in  this  matter.  There  are  great 
depths  and  mysterious  eddyings,  even  in  the  heart  of  Christ's  Church ; 
undercurrents  of  faith,  love,  and  hope,  which  are  rushing  toward  him 
with  prodigious  power,  while  on  the  surface  we  may  be  more  tantalized 
by  its  billowy  heaving  and  yawning  than  cheered  by  the  dashing  and 
lolly  crests  of  the  noble  estuary. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  let  us  thank  God  for  those  grand  specimens  of 
Christian  liberality  which,  standing  out  and  up  from  this  lower  firma- 
ment, serve  as  laAvs  of  gravitation  to  the  entire  body  of  Christian  sacri- 
fice, secure  regularity  in  its  motions,  prevent  declensions  from  tho 
aj^pointed  orbits,  and  apply  that  centi'ipetal  force  which  makes  every  light 
in  that  spiritual  canopy  seek  its  way  to  the  grand  orb,  "the  Lamb  that 
was  slain."  Who  can  tell  what  mighty  impulses  have  been  given  to  the 
large  heart  of  the  Church  by  the  story  of  the  widow's  mite  ?  That 
mite  has  brought  forth  its  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  gold  and 
silver  to  the  Lamb.  Who  can  tell  how  much  more  he  has  received  fi-om 
his  inscription  on  that  woman's  monument  who  anointed  his  head  with 
costly  ointment  ? 

For  the  purposes  alike  of  fertilizing  and  beautifying  our  earth,  give 
me  those  deep  but  pure  and  gentle  streams  that  ooze  up  from  the  hid- 
den fountains  and  everywhere  permeate  our  valleys,  rather  than  the 
impetuous  mountain-torrent  that  carries  all  before  it  tumultuously  to 
the  ocean.  The  one  is  unheard-of,  but,  like  all  the  healthy  processes 
of  nature,  it  silently  and  surely  does  its  woi'k;  the  other  commands  the 
wonder  of  the  tourist  and  the  naturalist,  and  no  doubt  serves  its  own 
end  among  physical  phenomena ;  but  few  there  be  that  know,  and  fewer 
still  that  experience,  its  blessedness.  He,  then,  would  be  the  best  friend 
of  Christian  enterprise,  who  could  fix  the  eye  of  the  Church  on  the 
duty  of  greatly  enlarged  oflTerings  to  the  cause  of  Christ,  and  persuade 
her  everywhere  to  reduce  the  polities  and  practices  of  her  manifold  as- 
sociations to  such  a  system,  as  would  have  all  the  effect  of  a  legislative 
tax,  with  none  of  its  obnoxious  elements.  He  who  would  do  so,  must 
not  be  ashamed  of  "  small  things  ;"  he  must  be  a  believer  in  the  om- 
nipotence of  principles.  Science  tells  us  that  the  most  potent  forces  in 
nature  are  the  simplest — that  one  spark  of  electricity  in  a  moment  com- 
municates mind  to  mind,  however  far  asunder.  Chemistry  tells  us  that 
the  implements  of  explosive  power  need  not  be  monstrous,  and  that 
the  instruments  of  death  may  almost  be  infinitesimally  small.  It  is  not 
the  arsenal,  it  is  not  the  mngazine  of  gunpowder,  that  does  the  work  of 
war :  it  is  the  skillful  selection  of  thousands  of  lesser  weapons,  and  their 
dexterous  aims.  And  so  it  is  in  tlie  kingdom  of  grace.  One  sound 
principle,  calmly  but  securely  at  work  in  every  Christian  heart,  would 
speedily  level  the  dynasty  of  Satan  and  win  the  battle  for  Christ.      We 


690  JOHN    McFARLANE. 

have  such  a  princii^le  in  the  worthiness  of  the  Lamb  to  receive  riches. 
O  that  this  principle  were  to  go  .clown  into  and  through  the  entire 
Church  of  God !  Then  would  spring  forth  streams  in  the  desert,  and 
foimtains  of  perennial  peace  would  be  poured  out  on  a  thirsty  world ; 
the  plethoric  Church  would  be  greatly  relieved,  but  not  impoverished 
in  any  sense,  and  the  anthems  in  heaven  would  be  gladly  re-echoed  iu 
t(he  symphonies  of  earth. 


DISCOURSE    XLVIII. 

JOHN    GUMMING,    D.D.,    F.R.S.E. 

Tms  famous  Anglo-Scottish  divine  has  been  for  twenty-four  years  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  preachers  in  London. 

His  present  charge,  the  Scottish  National  Church,  Crown  Court,  Covent  Garden, 
was  assumed  in  1832.  It  is  his  first  charge,  and  has  been  eminently  successful.  The 
Church,  which  has  arisen  from  a  small  body,  now  embraces  about  eight  hundred  com- 
municants. The  congregations,  made  up  in  great  part  of  the  tlite,  ai'e  often  larger 
than  can  well  be  accommodated.  It  is  no  rare  occurrence  for  hundreds  to  go  away 
without  gaining  admission,  although  the  house  is  of  fair  dimensions. 

In  personal  appearance,  he  is  described  as  of  middle  height,  and  slenderly  made, 
well-formed  features,  with  an  intelligent  expression  of  countenance,  dark  and  lus- 
trous eyes,  and  a  well-developed  forehead.  He  always  wears  glasses,  and  in  the 
pulpit  is  never  seen  without  his  "  clerical  robes."  His  discourses  are  noi  pro- 
nounced from  a  manuscript,  generally,  at  least ;  but  a  man  is  often  seen  sitting  at 
tlie  left  hand  of  the  pulpit,  taking  them  down  in  short-hand,  and  so,  with  a  revision 
by  the  author,  they  are  as  readily  printed  as  if  fully  written  out.  This  explains,  in 
part,  their  frequent  publication ;  for,  as  all  the  world  know,  Dr.  Gumming  is  often 
seen  in  print. 

As  a  prolific  author.  Dr.  Gumming  has  few  equals  among  the  men  of  his  age. 
His  "  Apocalyptic  Sketches,"  "  Lectures  on  the  Parables,"  "  Benedictions,"  "  Signs 
of  the  Times,"  "Voices  of  the  Night,"  etc.,  etc.,  have  been,  most  of  them,  repub- 
lislied  in  the  United  States ;  and,  taking  into  view  both  countries,  their  circulation 
has  been  immense. 

We  should  say  that  Dr.  Gumming  could  not  lay  claim  to  depth  and  originality  as  a 
preacher  and  writer ;  but  still  he  need  never  be  tame  or  feeble.  It  is  said  that  he  is  a 
man  of  exceedingly  pleasing  pulpit  address,  and  that  his  jjreaching  is  remarkable  for 
its  equality ;  rarely  dazzling  by  its  brilliancy,  and  never  falling  below  mediocrity. 
His  chief  fault  must  be  that  he  is  too  gaudy  and  diffuse.  Dr.  Gumming  is  quite 
noted  as  a  platform  speaker ;  and  whether  here  or  in  liis  pulpit,  he  is  never  more  in 
his  element  than  wlien  making  some  onset  upon  Romanism,  which  has  often  and 
keenly  felt  the  edge  of  his  blade.  His  readiness  of  utterance  is  truly  wonderful ; 
and  from  the  moment  he  commences  an  address  or  discourse,  until  its  conclusion, 
the  current  of  his  eloquence  is  said  to  be  almost  always  calm  and  untroubled. 

Dr.  Gumming  is  now  about  forty-eight  years  of  age,  having  been  bom  in  1809, 
in  Aberdeenshire,  Scotland,  of  a  good  father,  bearing  the  same  name,  and  a  very 
devoted  and  cherished  mother.  He  was  educated  at  King's  College  University  of 
Aberdeen.  At  our  request  he  has  made  his  own  selection  in  tlie  discourse  for 
this  work.     He  is  not  responsible  for  the  title. 


592  JOHN     GUMMING. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  RELIGION  OR  NO  RELIGION. 

"  Then  said  Jesus  unto  the  twelve,  Will  ye  also  go  away  ?  Tlien  Simon  Peter  answered 
him,  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?  thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." — Joux,  vi.  67,  68. 

Jesus  seeing  tlie  multitude  retire  and  leave  Lim,  the  foitbful  and  tlie 
living  expositor  of  eternal  truth,  because  the  truth  did  not  square  with 
their  previous  jDrojudices,  nor  gratify  their  groveling  appetites,  turns  and 
appeals  to  the  apostles,  and  asks,  "  Will  ye  also  go  away  ?"  Ye,  whom 
I  have  nursed  as  a  hen  her  brood — as  a  mother  her  Children,  whose  infir- 
mities I  have  borne  with,  whose  necessities  I  have  sui^plied,  whose  sins  I 
have  forgiven,  whose  j^rofessions  I  have  heard — will  ye  also,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world,  go  away  and  leave  me,  your  Master,  your  Saviour, 
your  Redeemer,  and  your  Lord,  alone  ?  When  Jesus  spake  thus,  he 
appealed  to  their  convictions,  and  substantially  said,  "I  do  not  wish 
you  to  remain  unless  you  are  satisfied,  deeply  and  truly  satisfied.  I  do 
not  ask  the  blind  and  iri-ational  obedience  of  the  brute,  but  the  enlight- 
ened subjection  of  the  man.  I  ask  you  not  to  come  round  me  as  the 
slav^es  of  a  tyrant,  that  dare  not  think,  but  to  listen  to  me  as  the  intel- 
ligent pupils  of  a  loving  and  an  aflectionate  and  a  faithful  teacher." 
Christianity  from  first  to  last  is  the  religion  of  conviction.  It  strikes  its 
roots  in  the  mind  as  well  as  in  the  heart.  It  bids  you  follow  because 
you  are  persuaded,  and  accept  because  convinced  ;  and  you  show  it  the 
greatest  respect  when  you  refuse  to  follow  because  you  have  failed  to 
arrive  at  a  sincere  and  earnest  conviction.  It  holds  out  to  its  followers 
no  tempting  earthly  and  alluring  inducements ;  it  has  no  offer  of  a 
Mohnmmedan  license  upon  earth,  and  it  presents  no  promises  of  a  Pagan 
elysium  or  Paradise  beyond  it.  It  seeks  the  conversion  of  your  hearts 
through  the  enlightenment  of  your  minds,  and  as  soon  as  they  are  con- 
vinced it  insists  on  hospitality ;  it  asks  the  loyalty  of  your  hearts  and 
the  homage  of  your  intellects.  It  will  not  deceive  you ;  it  holds  out  no 
false  bait ;  it  candidly  tells  you  bonds  and  imprisonment  await  the  faith- 
ful. "  Through  much  tribulation  ye  must  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God."  "In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation,  in  me  only  ye  shall 
hav^e  peace." 

When  Peter  hears  this  appeal-,  ever  the  first  to  speak  forth  his  con- 
victions, sometimes  Avhen  ill-conceived,  and  necessarily  transient,  and  at 
other  times  when  they  were  deep,  enduring,  and  divine,  he  exclaims: 
"  Lord,  to  whom  shall  we  go?"  What  are  we  to  do' if  thou  leavest  us, 
and  where  shall  we  go  if  we  desert  thee  ?  Every  man  has  a  god  that 
he  worships ;  every  one  a  prophet  he  learns  from  in  the  prospect  of 
heaven.  It  is  not  really  a  question.  Will  you  Avorship?  the  question  is, 
Will  you  worship  the  only  true  and  living  God  ?  The  miser  worships 
the  gold  in  his  coflers ;  the  ambitious  man  the  dazzling  objects  of  hia 
aspirations  in  the  distant  horizon ;  the  enthusiastic  scholar  adores  learn 


THE    CHRIS  r  I  AN   .RELIGION    OR    NO    RELIGION.      ^93 

ing,  the  statesman  sets  bis  heart  on  fame.  That  Avhich  is  uppermost  and 
first  in  your  morning  thoughts,  which  is  deepest  and  dearest  in  your 
mid-day  anxieties,  which  is  last,  most  hngering,  in  your  evening  reflec- 
tions, that  is  practically  your  god  ;  that  you  really  deify,  to  that  you  burn 
the  incense  of  the  heart,  to  him  you  give  the  homage  of  your  soul. 
Peter  felt  that  he  could  not  live  without  God  ;  that  as  a  creature  he 
must  have  a  Creator  to  look  up  to,  as  a  sinner  he  must  have  a  Saviour 
to  lean  on.  He  felt  that  no  man  on  earth  is  the  illimitable  and  inex- 
haustible fountain,  but  that  each  is  rather  the  cistern  that  needs  to  be 
filled  from  the  fountain,  and  even  it  is  very  often  dry ;  that  he  is  not 
himself  original  and  underived,  but  has  a  borrowed  life  dependent  on  a 
source  that  is  above  him,  cut  oft*  from  which  he  must  fall  like  a  withered 
branch,  or  become  as  a  broken  cistern  that  can  hold  no  w-ater.  Peter 
therefore  appeals  to  Christ  in  language  extremely  touching  and  beauti- 
ful :  "  Blessed  Lord,  what  master  will  be  so  kind  to  us  as  thou  ;  what 
teacher  so  patient,  so  tender ;  what  Saviour  so  able,  so  Avilling  to  help 
us  ;  weary  and  heavy  laden,  where  shall  we  get  rest ;  guilty  and  sinful, 
where  shall  we  get  pardon  ;  ignorant  and  blind,  Avhere  shall  we  learn 
the  truths  and  the  lessons  of  everlasting  life  ?  To  whom,  blessed  Lord, 
shall  we  go  ?     Thou  only  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life." 

Let  us,  also,  ask  the  question  of  ourselves,  partly  as  bearing  on  our 
OT\-n  relations  at  this  moment,  partly  as  identifying  ourselves  in  spiiit 
and  feeling  with  those  who  first  gave  utterance  to  these  words.  If  we 
do  not  go  to  Christ  and  living  Christianity,  to  what  source  shall  we  go 
in  order  to  find  a  better,  a  more  satisfectory  or  joyous  religion  ?  Shall 
we,  if  we  desert  the  blessed  Saviour  as  our  Priest,  and  Prophet,  and 
King,  fall  back  into  the  ft-eezing  void  of  atheism  ?  Shall  we  plunge  into 
that  emptiness  and  desolation  in  which  no  wing  can  soar,  no  spirit  can 
breathe,  and  no  heart  can  beat  or  cherish  one  bright  and  weighty  hope  ? 
Shall  we  fall  back  into  that  wretched  state  where  the  darkness  is  so 
great  that  vice  and  virtue  are  undistinguished,  and  confounded  together  ? 
Shall  we  conclude  with  the  atheist,  that  there  is  no  immortal  and  soar- 
ing soul  to  leap  from  the  wreck  which  we  leave  behind  us  in  the  grave? 
that  there  is  no  eternity  beyond  the  confines  of  time,  to  be  to  us  a 
blessed  and  a  happy  and  everlasting  home?  that  there  is  no  God  that 
made  us,  as  the  creatures  of  his  wQrld  ?  no  precious  Redeemer  who  has 
died  for  us  ?  that  we  are  like  the  brutes  which  perish — with  this  disadvan- 
tage, that  they  do  not  know  their -approaching  doom,  and  therefore  have 
no  fears  within,  nor  fightings  without;  while  we  know  and  see  the 
annihilation  that  ya\\-ns  before  us,  and  recoil  in  horror  from  so  hateful 
an  issue,  so  terrible  a  catastrophe-?  Surely,  surely,  the  prospect  is  too 
dreadful  to  be  true ;  we  can  not  prevail  on  the  heart  to  entertain  it  for  a 
moment.  To  think  that  this  orb  in  which  we  live  is  moving  without  a 
governing,  a  controlling,  and  a  guiding  hand  ;  that  all  the  events  of  life 
are  the  random  shots  of  irrational  chance;  that  in   futurity  there  is 


694  JOHN    GUMMING. 

nothing  before  us  that  yve  can  cherish  with  any  certainty  as  an  everlast- 
ing hope,  and  nothing  solid  and  lasting  beneath  ns,  on  which  the  soles 
of  our  feet  can  be  at  rest,  is  surely  a  conclusion  no  man  outside  of  a 
lunatic  asylum  can  accept.  Hardness  of  heart  or  bewilderment  of  intel- 
lect alone  can  come  to  the  awful,  the  freezing,  the  horrible  conclusion, 
"  There  is  no  God  !"  We  can  not,  we  will  not  go  to  atheism ;  w^e  can 
not  exchange  the  only  Saviour  for  that  which  is  a  miserable  and  a 
wretched  negation.  The  consciously  debased  and  impure  may  live 
themselves  into  atheism,  but  even  they  can  never  arrive  at  it  as  a  solemn 
logical  conclusion.  If  we  will  not  go  to  atheism,  where  shall  we  go  ? 
Shall  we  go  back  to  the  gods  of  the  Pantheon  ?  Shall  we  bow  the  knee 
at  those  cold  altars,  those  long-forsaken  shrines  ?  Shall  we  become  again 
the  worshipers  of  Jupiter  and  Juno  ?  Impossible  !  There  is  no  satis- 
faction there ;  there  is  no  rest  for  the  intellect,  no  peace  for  the  con- 
science, no  hope  for  the  soul  there.  The  most  gifted  intellects  of 
heathendom  owned  it  could  not  satisfy  them  ;  but  they  hoped — ^though 
their  hopes  were  merely  the  offspring  of  their  wishes — that  God  Avould 
one  day  interfere,  and  tell  them  of  a  Saviour,  a  futurity,  a  home.  The 
most  consistent  w'orshiper  in  the  ancient  Pantheon  Avas  unhappily  the 
most  debased  and  corrupt.  The  sins  of  the  fallen  were  too  often  the 
rites  of  its  w^orship,  the  lusts  of  depravity  were  the  acceptable  incense  of 
its  gods.  They  canonized  what  we  are  taught  to  crucify — the  crimes 
of  Christendom  were  too  extensively  the  virtues  of  the  heathen.  Well 
might  the  disciples  have  said  to  the  Master,  "  Blessed  Lord,  thy  beati- 
tudes pronounced  upon  the  mount" — those  beatitudes  of  Jesus  that  will 
outlive  the  Pyramids  of  all  the  Pharaohs — "  are  too  beautiful,  they  have 
impressed  themselves  too  deeply  on  our  hearts ;  they  have  unfolded  to 
us  too  fully  thy  character  and  thy  love,  and  the  work  and  the  service 
that  thou  roquirest,  for  us  ever  to  foil  back  into  the  worship  of  the  gods 
of  the  heathen,  or  to  recognize  as  the  rulers  of  the  universe  them  that 
•were  the  scourges  and  the  curse  of  mankind."  It  would  have  been 
descending  from  the  light  of  day  into  the  dreary  dungeon — it  would 
have  been  the  exchange  of  all  that  dignifies  and  adorns  for  all  that 
debases  and  degrades.  Their  new  nature  w^ould  not  submit  to  it.  Their 
experience  of  the  peace  and  joys  of  truth  would  not  allow  them  to 
descend  so  terribly.  Shall  we  go  back  again,  they  might  have  said,  to 
Judaism  ?  If  we  forsake  thee,  blessed  Jesus,  shall  Ave  return  to  those 
sacrifices  offered  year  by  year,  which  never  could  take  away  sin  ?  The 
eloquence  of  Aaron,  the  energy  of  Moses,  the  sacrifices  of  Levi,  have 
all  failed  to  satisfy  us.  If  thou  art  not  the  fulfillment  of  all ;  if  thy  sor- 
rows and  thy  sufferings,  thine  agony  and  bloody  sweat,  be  not  the  atone- 
ment predicted  by  Isaiah,  proclaimed  by  the  prophets,  and  expected  by 
the  saints,  then,  blessed  Master,  Ave  have  no  faith  for  the  present,  we 
have  no  hope  for  the  future,  and  all  our  expectations  are  at  an  end ;  Ave 
are  Avithout  a  father,  without  a  friend,  and  without  a  home.     We  car 


THE    CHEISTIAN    RELIGION    OR    XO    RELIGION.       595 

not  go  back  to  them.  If  thou  art  not  the  Messiah,  we  renoimco  the 
past,  we  despair  of  the  fliture  ;  the  Old  Testament  is  a  fable,  if  the  Kew 
Testament  be  not  true.  We  have  gone  to  Moses,  and  he  has  pointed 
us  to  thee.  We  foi'sook  him,  because  we  found  him  and  more  than  him 
in  thee  ;  if  we  go  back  to  him,  he  will  direct  us  to  thee  ;  if  we  appeal 
to  Aaron,  he  will  conduct  us  to  thee ;  if  we  refer  to  Isaiah,  he  speaks  to 
us  only  of  thee.  Blessed  Lord,  we  can  not  go  to  Judaism ;  to  whom 
shall  we  go,  if  we  forsake  thee,  our  Lord  and  our  Master — our  life  and 
hope  ? 

But  to  apply  the  text  more  strictly  to  ourselves,  let  me  ask  if  we  give 
up  Christianity,  if  we  renounce  Christ  crucified,  to  whom  shall  we  go  ? 
What  religion  can  we  substitute  for  that  Avhich  the  infidel  renounces  ? 
Suppose  Christianity  extinguished,  suppose  all  its  truths  discoA'ered  to  be 
false,  what  have  we  ?  Nothing  but  guesses,  conjectures,  hope  that  ends 
in  despair  ;  and  despair  that  starts  hopes  that  end  again  in  blanker  de 
spair.  All  is  chaos,  if  this  Book  be  removed  ;  all  is  darkness,  if  its  light 
be  quenched.  Shall  we  find  in  the  religion  of  Hume — if  religion  it  can 
be  called — or  rather  in  the  blasphemies  of  Hume,  or  the  nonsense  of 
atheistic  Secularists,  that  which  Christ  fails  to  supply  ?  The  articles  of 
their  fiiith  are  guesses,  their  hopes  are  conjectures,  their  theology  is  a 
system  of  doubts  or  cold  negations.  They  admit  no  ruin,  which  we 
feel;  they  therefore  look  for  no  Saviour  as  we  do.  If  God  be  just,  I 
ask  the  skeptic,  will  he  condemn  all  ?  He  says,  N"o.  Then  if  God  be 
merciful,  will  he  save  all  ?  He  answers,  that  we  can  not  expect.  Then 
how  fiir  will  his  justice  reach  in  punishing  ;  how  deep  will  his  mercy  go 
in  saving  ?  What  is  the  least  sin  that  he  will  punish  ;  what  is  the  great- 
est sin  that  he  will  forgive  ?  Your  God  must  be  unjust  in  order  to  be 
merciful,  and  he  must  be  unmerciful  in  order  to  be  just.  The  only  God 
that  you  have  dreamed  of,  if  you  have  dreamed  of  a  God  at  all,  is  a  com- 
posite of  imperfections,  contradictions,  and  confusion.  Surely,  surely 
we  can  not  exchange  a  religion  that  tells  us  of  a  sure  home,  a  loving 
Father,  and  the  way  to  both,  for  a  religion  that  can  not  tell  us  of  a  God, 
of  a  Saviour,  or  give  us  any  well-founded  hope  or  probability  of  hope, 
or  remove  from  our  hearts  one  anxious  and  irritating  doubt,  or  fore 
boding. 

Shall  we  adopt,  if  we  refuse  Deism,  its  milder  modification  ?  Shall  we 
subscriTje  to  the  creed  of  Socinianism  ?  Shall  we  exchange  the  warm 
and  living  Christianity  of  Jesus  for  the  cold,  comfortless  creed  of  Soci- 
nus  ;  which  is  the  cross  without  the  glory,  a  religion  without  a  sacrifice, 
a  salvation  without  a  Saviour  ?  The  religion  of  the  Unitarian  contains 
directions  beautiful  and  true  for  them  that  are  well ;  but  we  are  sick, 
and  we  want  prescriptions  for  our  cure.  In  the  Unitarian's  chapel  there 
is  a  desk  for  an  eloquent  teacher,  but  there  is  no  puli)it  for  an  ambassa- 
dor of  glad  tidings  from  our  Father  and  from  our  God.  He  offers  us  a 
directory  how  to  walk  when  we  can  not  move  our  limbs,  and  want  and 


(396  JOHN    GUMMING. 

wait  for  the  power  to  do  so  ;  he  ignores  the  Fall,  he  is  satisfiecl  with  a 
human  Saviour  because  he  believes  only  in  an  insignificant,  that  is,  in  a 
partial  calamity.  But  what  we  need,  sorely  need,  is  not  direction,  but 
life  ;  not  simply  to  be  told  what  to  do,  but  to  be  told  how  our  sins  can 
be  forgiven — not  only  how  we  are  to  walk,  but  how  strength  may  be  im- 
parted to  the  withered  limbs,  in  order  that  we  may  walk  in  those  ways 
which  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  in  those  paths  which  are  paths  of 
peace.  If  Jesus  be  not  God,  Christianity  is  the  mother  of  despair.  I 
do  not  want  a  purer  law  than  that  which  was  proclaimed  on  Sinai ;  I 
see  well  enough  already  that  I  can  not  obey  it.  I  hear  distinctly  from 
it  that  there  is  a  curse  upon  my  disobedience  ;  and  to  give  me  a  loftier 
standard,  without  the  means  of  coming  up  to  that  standard,  is  to  increase 
the  despair  it  pretends  and  professes  to  relieve.  Besides,  such  is  my 
ruin  that  I  feel  a  divine  hand  must  set  me  on  my  feet  again,  or  I  never 
can  be  lifted  up  at  all,  I  have  such  a  grand  apprehension  of  the  vast- 
ness  of  that  thing  called  the  soul — that  wonder-worker  of  the  age  in 
which  we  live,  I  have  that  sense  of  its  capacity  of  joy  and  its  capability 
of  woe  ;  I  have  that  conviction  of  its  preciousness,  and  that  foreboding 
of  its  peril,  that  if  I  can  not  have  a  divine  Saviour  to  take  care  of  it,  I 
will  do  the  best  that  I  can  to  take  care  of  it  myself  "  But  I  know  in 
whom  I  have  believed" — a  very  different  Saviour  from  him  the  Unitarian 
accepts — "  and  that  he  is  able  to  keep  what  I  have  committed  to  him 
against  that  day." 

If  we  go  not  to  Christ,  nor  to  Deism,  nor  to  Socinianism,  shall  we 
relapse  into  Romanism,  the  exploded  superstition  of  the  past,  the  with- 
ered husks  of  a  once-living  Chi-istianity  ?  Shall  we  sing  the  Psalms  of 
David,  not  to  God,  but  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  as  the  Romanist  does? 
Shall  we  attach  to  human  works  an  expiatory  virtue  ?  Shall  Ave  regard 
human  tears  as  cleansing  from  sin  ?  Shall  we  believe  the  word  of  man 
superior  to  or  equal  to  the  Avord  of  God  ?  Shall  we  be  satisfied  with 
penance  that  man  can  pay,  instead  of  the  repentance  that  God  can  give  ? 
Shall  we  be  contented  with  confessing  to  a  priest  who  can  not  sympa- 
thize Avith  the  sorroAV  though  he  can  sympathize  Avith  the  sin,  AA'ho  can 
not  forgive  the  guilt  Avhen  he  hears  it  and  knows  it,  instead  of  confess- 
ing to  him  Avho  sympathizes  Avith  the  sorroAV,  and  hates  the  sin,  and  is 
able  to  mitigate  the  pangs  of  the  one,  and  to  remove  by  his  precious 
blood  all  the  guilt  and  iniquity  of  the  other  ? 

Wherever  I  look,  in  the  height  or  in  the  depth,  on  the  right  or  on 
the  left,  I  can  see  no  religion  that  comes  Avithin  ten  thousand  miles  of 
that  Avhich  is  in  this  blessed  Book.  And  if  I  can  not  believe  in  Christ 
crucified,  Avhich  is  Christianity,  as  my  only  religion,  I  know  nothing  else 
in  the  past  or  in  the  j^resent  worthy  of  the  acceptance  of  a  rational  man, 
or  that  can  convey  any  thing  like  peace,  repose,  and  satisfoction  to  the 
human  heart.  We  may  therefore  avcU  say,  Blessed  Lord,  if  we  go  aAA'ay 
from  thee,  to  Avhom  shall  Ave  go  ?     Not  to  Judaism,  not  to  Socinus,  not 


THE    CHRISTIAN    RELIGION    OR    NO    RELIGION.       697 

to  Pio  Xono  ;  -where,  then,  sliall  wc  go  ?  Tested  by  every  test,  tried  in 
every  pretension,  all  fails  to  satisfy  the  intellect,  to  meet  the  necessitiea 
of  the  heart,  to  give  peace  to  the  conscience.  If  Christianity  be  not 
the  religion  of  God,  God  has  never  spoken,  and  man  has  no  revelation 
at  all.  Ask  the  dying  skeptic,  in  that  hour  when  realities  and  sincerities 
thrust  out  delusions,  prejudices,  and  passions,  whether  his  religion  will 
satisfy  him  then  and  there.  Voltaire  prays  for  only  another  hour,  and 
while  he  curses  the  Saviour,  he  curses  himself.  Or  shall  I  appeal  to 
Hume — trying  in  his  last  moments  to  jest  away  thought,  as  boys  whistle 
in  the  dark  when  they  fancy  there  is  a  specter  behind  them  or  beside 
them,  in  order  to  keep  off  their  fears?  Or  shall  we  appeal  to  D'Alem- 
bert  or  to  Diderot,  or  to  any  other  of  the  lurid  spirits  of  that  dark  and 
potentous  epoch,  when  God  seemed  to  have  given  up  a  portion  of  the 
world  to  the  domination  of  fallen  angels  ?  They  taught  nothing  power- 
ful enough  to  extract  the  stings  of  conscience,  or  drown  the  forebodings 
of  hell.  Ask  the  skeptic  on  his  death-bed  ;  ask  witnesses  of  skeptic 
death-beds,  and  they  will  all  answer  that  skepticism  may  do  very  well 
for  convivial  hours,  for  rude  health,  for  thoughtless  moments ;  but  it  will 
never  do  for  a  dying  hour,  and  alas  !  alas !  still  less  for  death,  and  judg- 
ment, and  eternity  But  ask  the  Christian,  on  the  otlier  hand.  Ask 
Stephen  as  he  is  stoned  by  the  enemies  of  Christ;  he  sees  Jesus  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  and  concludes  his  agony  on  earth  while  expressing 
the  hopes  that  he  cherished  of  nearing  joy :  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my 
spirit."  Ask  the  Apostle  Paul,  and  he  will  tell  you,  "  I  have  fought  a 
good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I  have  kept  the  faith  ;  and  now 
there  remains  for  me  a  crown  of  glory  which  the  Lord  will  give  me  on 
that  day,"  Ask  any  Christian  whose  histoiy  you  know,  whose  acquaint- 
ance you  have  enjoyed — ask  him  in  a  dying  hour,  whether  the  religion 
he  has  professed  and  lived  in,  and  loved  in,  stands  him  instead  at  that 
testing  moment  ;  and  you  will  find  that  while  thousands  have  repented 
they  were  unbelievers,  never  yet  did  one  die  repenting  that  he  loved  the 
Saviour  too  much,  leaned  on  him  too  strongly,  or  indulged  brighter 
hopes  than  the  last  hour  of  experience  on  earth  has  realized.  To  Avhom, 
then,  blessed  Lord,  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of  eternal  life. 
Eternal  life  ;  he  reveals  it  to  his  own.  He  makes  knoAvn  the  life  and  the 
Avay  that  leads  to  it.  He  is  the  purchaser  of  it.  We  arc  redeemed  not 
with  gold  and  silver,  or  any  such  corruptible  things,  but  by  his  precious 
blood.  He  bestows  it :  "I  give  unto  them  eternal  life,  and  none  shall 
pluck  them  out  of  my  hand."  He  has  not  a  dream  about  it,  a  conjecture, 
about  it,  a  guess,  a  poem,  a  in-oblem  ;  but  he  has  words  that  are  unspent 
by  the  ages  that  have  intervened  since  he  uttered  them — the  very  Avords 
of  eternal  life.  What  is  the  great  want,  then,  of  all  mankind  ?  Life. 
A  Christian  is  not  a  man  that  hopes  to  live,  but  he  has — he  begins  now 
on  earth — the  life  that  culminates  in  heaven.  Hell  begins  the  instant 
that  a  man  is  born  ;  heaven  begins  the  instant  that  a  man  is  born  again. 


698  JOHN     GUMMING. 

We  are  all  born  under  the  curse,  in  the  eclipse,  in  a  state  of  aberration 
from  God.  And  Avhen  we  ai-e  born  again,  we  come  under  a  new  attrac- 
tion ;  the  curse  is  removed,  we  liave  in  the  heart  life,  and  so  eternal 
life. 

Let  me  ask,  have  we  eternal  life — have  we  this  new  birth  ?  Born  we 
are,  under  the  curse ;  aliens  and  strangers  by  nature,  we  all  are  ;  but  the 
question  is,  are  we  born  again  ?  We  have  not  to  do  something  in  order 
to  be  ruined.  Just  let  man  live  as  he  is  born,  and  as  a  stone  falls  to  the 
earth,  he  falls  away  from  God  farther  and  further.  The  tnateriel  of  hell 
is  not,  probably,  a  material  flame,  a  living  woi'm,  a  fire  that  is  not 
quenched  ;  but  ceaseless,  progressive,  darkening  aberration  from  God. 
The  longer  that  the  soul  lives,  the  further  it  retreats  from  God.  And 
heaven  is  not  so  much  physical  and  material  enjoyment,  though  all  thif' 
it  may  be  !  it  is  ceaseless  approximation  to  God.  The  lost  soul  is  under 
a  centrifugal  impulse,  that  drives  him  away  and  do^mward  deeper  and 
deeper,  a  descent  which  is  described  in  the  Bible  as  "  bottomless ;"  and 
the  redeemed  and  the  saved  soul  is  under  a  centripetal  attraction  that 
brings  him  nearer  and  nearer  to  God  in  moral  likeness,  in  intellectual 
greatness,  in  knowledge,  in  love,  in  peace,  and  enjoyment,  through  the 
endless  ages  of  eternity.  Therefore,  at  this  moment,  every  one  of  us  is 
either  under  the  attraction  that  brings  us  nearer  to  God,  that  is,  we  have 
eternal  lite  ;  or  we  are  under  the  impulse  that  is  carrying  us  further 
away  from  God.  Which  is  it  ?  Answer  it  to  your  consciences,  answer 
it  to  yourselves.  You  will  have  to  meet  it  at  the  judgment-seat.  Bet- 
ter entertain  the  question  when  it  can  be  disposed  of  to  your  everlasting 
well-being,  than  have  to  meet  it  when  you  find  it  too  late  to  find  the 
way,  or  recover  the  opportunity  you  have  lost.  So  shall  you  receive  the 
reward  of  them  who  have  washed  their  robes  and  made  them  white  in 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb. 

But  great  privilege  is  great  responsibility.  These  apostles  that  found 
in  Christ  so  much  to  love,  found  in  themselves  no  less  to  answer  for.  To 
hear  the  words  of  eternal  life,  is  privilege  and  responsibility ;  to  accept 
the  truth,  is  our  instant  and  paramount  obligation.  They  that  crucified 
the  Lord  of  glory,  were  not  so  guilty  as  we  shall  be  "if  we  neglect  so 
great  salvation."  Christ  said  to  them  what  he  can  not  say  of  us  :  "They 
know  not  what  they  do."  The  very  next  duty  that  devolves  upon  us 
after  knowing  and  accejiting  the  words  of  life,  is  to  spread  them  among 
those  Avho  are  nearest  to  us  ;  not  to  cease  till  the  whole  earth  is  covered 
with  the  presence  and  lighted  up  with  the  glory  of  him  Avho  is  the  Light 
to  lighten  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glory  of  his  people  Israel.  The  possessor 
of  a  truth  without  a  testimony  to  the  truth,  is  jDossible  in  theory,  but 
almost  impracticable  in  fact.  Wherever  the  word  of  life  is  possessed  as 
a  life  in  the  heart,  it  will  radiate  as  a  light  upon  the  rest  of  mankind. 
To  be  in  possession  of  a  saving  truth,  but  to  keep  it  as  a  choice  secret  to 
ourselves,  seems  to  involve  no  ordinary  culpability  indeed.     If  I  see  a 


THE    CHRISTIAN    RELIGIOX    OR    NO    RELIGION.        699 

person  tried  for  an  offense,  and  know  ?um  to  be  innocent ;  if  I  hear  the 
verdict  of  the  jury,  "guilty,"  and  the  sentence  of  the  jiidge,  "  death ;" 
and  if  I  have  the  secret  that  explains  his  innocence:  for  me  to  be  silent 
is  to  be  in  my  measure  accessory  to  the  death  of  that  innocent  man.  If 
I  see  persons  laboring  under  a  fatal  epidemic,  while  I  possess  the  medi- 
cine that  is  its  specific  antidote,  if  such  there  be  ;  and -if,  possessing  that 
medicine,  and  knowing  its  efficacy,  I  Avithhold  it  from  those  who  arc  per- 
ishing, most  assuredly  I  am  guilty,  not  only  in  the  sight  of  man,  but  in 
the  judgment  of  God,  of  manslaughter.  If  I  possess  a  knowledge  that 
illuminates  the  ignorant,  conveys  pardon  to  tlie  guilty,  plants  regenera- 
tion in  the  hearts  of  the  corrupt  and  the  fiillen,  and  if  possessed  of  that 
light,  I  refuse  to  spread  it ;  if  acquainted  with  the  secret  of  a  world's 
restoration,  I  feed  myself  upon  that  secret  and  taste  its  sweetness,  but 
resolve  to  monopolize  it:  I  do  say, that  if  peradventure  safe  through  the 
blood  of  sprinkling,  it  Avill  be  a  safety  destitute  of  the  repose,  the  happi- 
ness, the  joy  of  them  Avho,  saints  by  grace,  have  toiled  as  servants  to 
express  their  gratitude  to  him  that  loved  them  and  died  for  them.  But, 
in  fact,  it  is  scai'cely  possible  to  believe  and  accept  a  magnificent  and 
saving  truth,  and  yet  to  keep  it  in  selfish  monopoly  to  ourselves.  A 
truth  that  we  do  not  spread,  either  we  scarcely  believe,  or  we  very  inad- 
equately appreciate.  Whoever  heartily  believes  a  jirecious  truth,  that 
truth  he  never  can  keep  to  himself  The  efforts  that  you  make  to  spread 
God's  truth  are  the  exponents  of  the  depth  of  the  impression  it  has  made 
on  your  hearts.  What  is  selfishly  retained  or  indolently  enjoyed,  we 
have  never  grasped  as  we  should,  or  tasted  its  sweetness  as  it  is,  or 
appreciated  justly  in  its  own  intrinsic  magnificence  and  greatness.  That 
man  who  honestly  accepts  an  error,  believing  that  error  to  be  truth,  is 
much  more  a  trutli-holder  than  the  man  Avho  accidentally  accepts  the 
truth,  but  has  never  examined  thoroughly  whether  it  be  a  truth  or  a 
folsehood.  Truth  ncAcr  is  accepted  as  it  should  be  until  it  be  incorpo- 
rated with  our  nature ;  the  lights  of  onr  intellects,  the  scepter  in  our 
conscience,  the  life  in  our  hearts,  and  a  ceaseless  missionary  influence  in 
our  conduct  and  converse  in  the  world.  It  is  possible,  but  not  frequent, 
that  the  word  of  life  shall  be  held  in  its  intrinsic  vitality  in  a  man's 
heart,  and  yet  that  he  never  has  made  an  effort  to  spread  it;  just  as 
seeds  of  corn  have  been  kept  in  the  Egyptian  pyramids  in  the  hands  of 
mummies,  shut  up  in  their  stony  coflins,  without  germinating.  Xever- 
theless,  the  instant  that  those  seeds  were  brought  to  the  light,  under  tlie 
rains,  and  the  sunbeams,  and  the  prolific  earth,  they  did  eventually 
grow  ;  so  if  the  seeds,  the  incorruptible  seeds  of  living  truth,  have  been 
scattered  in  your  hearts,  and  honestly  received,  yet  have  remained  tor- 
pid and  unprolific  hitherto ;  now  that  you  are  made  to  fefcl  your  respon- 
pibility,  and  what  Christ  has  done  for  you,  and  what  God  commands  you 
to  do  for  him,  are  clearly  and  jilainly  impressed,  those  living  seeds,  if 
Buch  have  been  really  and  truly  received  into  your  hearts,  will  begin  for 


700  JOHN     GUMMING. 

the  first  time  to  bud,  and  grow  up,  and  bear  fruit  in  some  tliirty,  in 
some  sixty,  and  in  some  a  hundred  fold. 

It  is  not  improbable  that  the  truth  of  God  itself  received  into  the 
heart  as  a  dead,  dry,  and  unprolific  thing,  proves  not  a  blessing,  but  the 
reverse.  The  best  and  most  nutritious  food  eaten,  but  not  incorporated 
into  our  animal  economy,  by  the  process  of  digestion,  becomes  poison ; 
the  purest  truth  taken  into  the  intellect,  left  there,  never  "  read,  marked, 
learned,  and  inwardly  digested,"  instead  of  being  nourishing  food  to  the 
soul,  becomes  a  destructive  poison.  The  truth  in  every  shape,  within 
and  without,  is  either  a  savor  of  life,  or  it  is  a  savor  of  death.  Truth 
believed,  but  not  lived,  loved,  and  acted  out,  is  a  savor  of  death  ;  truth 
believed,  lived,  loved,  incorporated  into  our  hearts,  cherished  not  as  a 
dogma,  but  a  life,  not  as  a  notion,  but  an  experience,  is  the  savor  of  life 
to  ourselves  and  of  life  unto  life  among  all  with  whom  we  come  into 
contact.  To  hold  forth  the  word  of  everlasting  life  is  not  only  the  duty, 
the  privilege,  but  the  instinctive  desire,  prayer,  and  effort  of  all  that 
know  the  truth  in  its  saving  and  sanctifying  power.  And  when  I  open 
this  blessed  Book,  and  look  at  the  characteristics  of  them  who  have  re- 
ceived and  believed  the  word  of  everlasting  life  as  delineated  there,  I 
see  that  every  figure  under  which  a  Christian  is  set  forth,  every  light  in 
which  he  is  seen,  every  angle  at  which  he  is  viewed  by  the  sacred  pen- 
men, indicate  that  he  is  designed  of  God  to  diffuse  the  knowledge  of 
that  glorious  gospel  which  he  has  received  from  God  in  his  distinguishing 
grace.  "  Ye  are  the  lights  of  the  world,"  to  spread  around  you  its 
kindling  splendors.  Or,  if  yours  be  a  lower  position,  "ye  are  the  salt 
of  the  earth,"  silently  and  quietly  to  penetrate  with  its  restorative  and 
preservative  powers  the  whole  surrounding  mass.  Every  Christian  is 
made  what  he  is  in  order  that  he  maybe  a  means  of  making  others  what 
tliey  should  be ;  we  are  by  God's  grace  made  lights,  in  order  that  in 
providence  we  may  be  luminous ;  we  have  received,  in  order  that  we 
may  give.  The  means  of  giving,  the  mode  in  which  we  act  upon  the 
world,  may  be  various  as  circumstances  in  this  life  are  ;  but  the  force  Avith 
which  we  act  upon  the  world  is  just  the  measure  of  the  vitality  of  living 
religion  in  our  hearts ;  for  he  that  is  not  a  blessing  must  necessarily  be  a 
blot.  No  man  can  be  a  blank  in  a  world  so  constituted  as  ours.  God's 
great  design  in  giving  his  grace,  is  to  make  us  the  privileged,  and  joy- 
ous, and  conseci-atcd  distributors  of  what  he  has  given.  The  largest 
recipient  in  the  Church  is  meant  thereby  to  become  instantly  the  greatest 
giver  among  mankind.  The  Christian  heart  is  not  the  barren  sand  that 
receives  the  sun-beams  and  dew-drops,  and  absorbs  them,  and  yields 
nothing  in  return  :  but  the  fertile  soil  that,  warmed  by  the  sun,  and  in 
itself  richly  endowed  by  him  that  originally  made  it,  is  to  respond  to 
its  privileges,  and  its  possession,  by  many  a  joyous  and  golden  harvest. 
And  we  know,  too,  by  a  very  beautiful  law  that  he  that  is  the  greatest 
o-iver  is  always  the  happiest  man.      AVhat  parts  of  the  earth  seem  to 


THE    CHRISTIAN    RELIGION    OR    NO    RELIGION.       701 

smile  with  tlie  richest  joy  and  to  reflect  the  greatest  hapjiiness?  Xot 
its  barren  sands,  nor  its  deserts,  but  its  most  fertile,  and  prolilic  spots. 
And  what  are  the  words  that  denote  the  iutensest  happiness  ?  Words 
that  mean  living  out  of  self,  and  going  from  self.  What  is  meant  by 
the  word  ecstacy  f  the  iutensest  joy  that  human  nature  feels — standing 
out  of  one's  self;  making  self  no  more  the  center  and  the  basis  of  our 
action,  but  sacrificing  self  in  order  to  do  good  to  others.  And  what  is 
the  meaning  of  the  Avord  transport,  ecstatic  joy  ?  Being  carried  beyond 
one's  self,  and  subdued,  absorbed,  floated  into  a  current  of  ii-repressible 
beneficence  and  love.  And  hence  our  blessed  Lord  has  uttered  what  is 
deep  thought,  worthy  of  being  deeply  pondered :  "  It  is  more  blessed," 
not,  as  it  is  sometimes  read  at  the  Royal  Excha^nge,  to  receive  than  to- 
give,  but  as  they  read  it  in  heaven,  and  as  it  is  felt  by  Christian  hearts 
upon  earth,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  it  is  to  receive."  Our 
Lord  has  thus  so  constituted  them  that  are  the  recipients  of  his  grace, 
that  they  shall  be  the  greatest  distributors  of  it.  It  is  his  own  great 
plan  for  spreading  upon  earth  the  grand  truths  that  are  inspired  fi-om 
heaven ;  and  he  that  fails  to  spread  the  truth,  is  just  in  that  fact  as 
criminal  as  he  that  refuses  to  accept  the  truth ;  for  both  are  ordinances 
and  appointments  of  Heaven.  I  must  add  what  is  equally  true,  that  the 
man  who  refuses  to  give,  will  very  soon  discover  that  he  has  very  little 
worth  giving.  A  limb  that  is  rarely  used,  loses  its  muscular  power,  and 
grows  feeble;  coins  that  are  not  in  currency,  soon  become  corroded; 
the  keys  that  open  not  the  stores  of  beneficence,  will  soon  rust ;  and  a 
Chi-istianity,  that  lives  m  itself  and  for  itself  only,  is  a  Christianity  that 
gives  very  equivocal  evidence  of  its  birth-place,  heaven,  and  contains 
very  little  that  will  enable  it  to  last  and  outlive  the  strifes,  the  trials, 
and  the  temptations,  of  this  present  world.  It  is  a  law  lasting  as  the 
economy  of  grace,  "  to  him  that  hath  shall  be  given  ;  and  from  him  that 
hath  not,  shall  be  taken,  even  that  which  he  hath."  The  well  of  living 
water  which  is  planted  in  every  individual  heart  the  moment  it  is  in- 
spii'cd  and  taken  possession  of  by  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  does  not  in- 
crease its  water  and  augment  its  volume  by  remaining  still ;  on ,  the 
contrary,  the  more  it  wells  up  and  pours  forth  in  multitudinous  rivulets 
upon  this  world's  deserts,  the  more  it  draws  from  its  parent  depths  of 
everlasting  life.  He  that  is  made  a  saint  by  grace,  will  instantly  become 
a  ser\  ant  by  obligation ;  and  the  evidence,  the  greatest,  brightest,  evi- 
dence of  his  saintship,  are  the  toils  and  sacrifices  of  his  service  to  men 
for  Christ's  sake. 

The  great  truth  that  Christ  died  a  sacrifice  for  our  sins,  is  the  greatest 
motive  that  can  possibly  be  urged  lor  the  great  sacrifices  that  Christians 
can  make.  Jesus  came  from  a  height  so  high,  that  our  soaring  thoughts 
can  not  climb  to  it ;  and  he  came  down  to  a  depth  of  woe,  and  agony, 
and  misery,  so  unfathomable,  that  no  plumb-line  of  ours  can  sound  it ; 
and  he  endured  a  distress  within  and  a  torture  without  so  far  beyond 


702  JOHN    GUMMING 

precedent,  and  above  parallel,  that  he  cried,  in  'ts  noontide  agony,  "  My 
God,  my  God.  why  hast  thou  forsalien  me  ?"  He  lived  for  us,  he  died 
for  us,  he  suffered  for  us,  he  sacrificed  for  us.  What  are  we  doing  for 
him?  It  was  these  lips  of  ours  that  shouted,  "Away  with  him,  away 
with  him  !"  It  is  surely  right,  it  is  surely  proper  they  should  be  con- 
secrated to  say  now,  "  Come,  behold  the  Lamb  of  God,  that  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world."  It  Avas  these  hands  of  ours  that  crucified  him  ; 
what  more  natural  than  that  these  hands  of  ours  should  now  distribute 
the  bread  of  everlasting  life  ?  He  came  to  save  us  ;  Ave  had  no  claim 
upon  him  ;  and  he  had  no  inducement  out  of  himself  to  come  to  us,  but 
in  his  great  love,  and  for  no  other  reason,  he  died  for  us :  the  least  that 
we  can  do  is  to  carry  out  as  far  as  we  can  those  unsearchable  riches,  and 
that  blessed  gospel  which  will  bring  others  to  the  brightness  of  his  rising, 
and  make  the  rest  of  the  world  as  happy  as  it  has  made  us. 

From  Jesus  we  have  received  the  words  of  eternal  life.  Let  us  reflect 
them  on  the  wide  world.  Let  us  bring  all  Ave  can  Avithin  the  hearing  of 
this  SAveet  music,  these  saving  strains,  these  words  of  eternal  life. 

His  words  are  going  round  the  earth,  and  aAvakening  echoes  in  its  re- 
motest districts.  They  are  translated  into  every  tongue.  They  are 
preached  and  heard  by  increasing  thousands,  from  the  pine  forests  of  the 
North,  to  the  palm  groves  of  the  East.  They  mingle  with  the  hum  of 
busy  cities,  and  are  reflected  in  the  sheen  of  great  rivers.  They  are 
carried  in  the  soldier's  knapsack,  and  give  him  happy  thoughts  amid  the 
privations  of  the  Crimea.  They  lie  under  the  sailor's  pillow,  and  make 
Sunday  all  sunshine  on  the  Euxine  and  the  Baltic.  They  ai-e  pronounced 
at  our  Aveddings ;  they  hallow  our  graves ;  they  give  names  and  blessings 
to  our  children.  Can  these  words  be  of  earth,  or  of  time,  or  of  man, 
that  so  widely  spread,  so  sweetly  sound,  so  gloriously  cheer?  Is  it  rea- 
sonable to  come  to  any  other  conclusion  than  that  they  are  Avords  of 
eternal  life  ;  that  they  come  from  heaven,  and  lead  to  heaven  ?  Other 
words  of  poet,  and  novelist,  and  orator,  come  and  go,  and  often  leave  no 
impression  beyond  the  transient  interest  or  amusement  of  the  day.  But 
these  Avords  are  living ;  they  strike  deeply  and  last  long.  They  have 
almost  creative  force.  AppUed  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  they  prove  incor- 
ruptible and  living  seeds  in  the  heart  in  Avhich  they  are  soAvn.  Veiy 
soon  all  that  man  fears  or  loves,  in  this  world,  will  pass  aAvay.  But  the 
Avord  of  the  Lord  abideth  foi'ever,  striking  its  roots  deeper  in  the  con- 
victions of  the  thoughtful,  and  occupying  a  larger  space  in  the  affections 
of  the  good.  Blessed  thought !  stones  may  fall  and  temples  decay,  and 
basilicas  and  cathedrals  crumble  into  the  dust,  and  the  great  pyramids 
descend  into  the  sands  that  day  by  day  ace  emulate  about  them.  But 
thy  Avord,  O  God,  like  thy  throne,  is  from  CA^erlasting  to  everlasting ;  and 
thy  truth,  like  thy  kingdom,  has  no  end. 


DISCOURSE    XL  [X. 

JAMES     BUCHANAN,     D.D.,    LL.D. 

The  distinguished  successor  of  Dr.  Chalmers  in  the  chair  of  Systematic  Theology 
in  New  College,  Edinburg,  was  born  at  Paisley  in  the  year  1804.  His  father 
James  Buchanan,  Esq.,  was  an  elder  of  the  Church,  and  a  magistrate  of  the  borough. 
Until  the  time  of  the  disruption  in  1843,  Dr.  Buchanan  was  attached  to  the  Estab- 
hshed  Church  of  Scotland,  when  he  joined  the  Free  Church,  of  which  he  may,  per- 
haps, be  called  the  intellectual  leader.  He  was  educated  in  the  grammar-school  at 
Paisley,  and  in  the  University  of  Glasgow;  and,  in  1828,  ordained  to  the  charge  of 
the  Chapel  of  Ease,  at  Roshn.  A  year  later  he  came  to  his  charge  in  the  parish  of 
North  Leith,  where  he  continued  till  the  year  1840,  when  he  was  transferred  to  the 
High  Church  of  Edinburg.  Three  years  later  he  became  pastor  of  the  Free  Church 
of  St.  Stephen's,  and  in  1845  was  appointed  Professor  of  Apologetic  Theology,  in 
New  College,  on  the  translation  of  Dr.  Cunningham  to  the  chair  of  Cliurch  History. 
At  the  death  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  in  1847,  he  was  apjjointed  to  the  vacant  professor- 
ship, a  position  which  he  has  filled  with  honor  ever  since. 

Dr.  Buchanan  is  the  author  of  several  works  ;  as,  "  Comfort  in  Affliction"  (which 
has  reached  its  twenty-first  edition)  ;  "  Office  and  Work  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;"  "  Faith 
in  G-od  and  Modern  Atheism  Compared ;"  and  several  smaller  works,  such  as  "  Ad- 
dress to  the  People  of  Scotland"  (of  which  200,000  copies  were  circulated),  "  On 
Trac^-j  for  the  Times,"  and  "  On  Church  Establishments." 

His  "  Modern  Atheism,"  in  part,  has  recently  been  printed  in  this  country,  and  is 
received  with  very  great  favor.  It  is  one  of  the  ablest  works  of  recent  British 
authorship ;  and,  as  a  specimen  of  profound,  luminous,  discriminating,  and  conclu- 
sive reasoning  upon  an  abstract  subject,  is  not  often  excelled.  A  leading  journal 
remarks,  that  "  we  have  nowhere  met  with  a  more  clear  and  complete  outline  of 
the  several  systems  he  exposes.  Comte's  Positive  Philosophy,  Oken's  Theoi-ies  of 
Development,  Kant's  Transcendentalism,  Fichte's,  Hegel's,  and  Schelling's  Panthe- 
ism, with  other  similar  forms  of  disguised  Atheism,  wliich  have  originated  on  the 
Continent,  and  thence  been  disseminated  throughout  England  and  Amoi'ica,  are 
explained  in  their  essential  features  so  plainly  and  fully  as  to  make  them  compre- 
hensible by  the  most  unlettered  reader.  He  is,  besides,  eminently  fair  and  just  in 
his  outline,  allowing  the  strong  points  of  each  system  to  appear.  His  argument,  in 
considering  them,  is  conclusive  and  convincing,  affording  a  most  satisfactor}-  refuta- 
tion of  these  fallacious  theories." 

Dr.  Buchanan  has  published  few  sermons,  as  such  ;  but  we  have  his  own  author- 
ity for  presenting  the  following  as  a  specimen  of  liis  discourses. 


704  JAMES    BUCHANAN. 

THE    DYIXG    MALEFACTOR. 

"And  one  of  the  malefactors  railed  at  him ;  but  the  other  said,"  etc. — Luke  xxiiL  39-43, 

The  crucifixion  of  tie  Lord  Jesus  was  so  ordered  as  to  furnish  a 
striking  illustration,  at  once  of  the  depth  of  his  abasement,  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  his  reward.  To  enhance  the  agony  and  the  shame  of  his 
death,  he  was  crucified  between  two  thieves,  being  numbered  with 
transgressora,  placed  on  the  same  level,  in  the  public  view,  M-ith  men 
"^■hose  lives  had  been  justl;  forfeited  by  their  crimes,  and  subjected,  in 
his  last  moments,  to  the  painful  spectacle  of  their  suiferings ;  but,  to 
evince  the  certainty  of  his  reward — to  make  it  manifest  that  the  joy 
which  was  set  before  him,  and  for  which  he  endured  the  cross,  despising 
the  shame,  would  be  realized — and  to  give  him,  as  it  were,  a  pledge  in 
hand  that  "  he  should  see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  be  satisfied" — one 
of  the  thieves  who  suffered  along  with  him  was  suddenly  converted  ;  and, 
in  the  lowest  depths  of  the  Redeemer's  humiliation — in  the  darkest  hour 
of  the  power  of  darkness,  when  Satan's  policy  seemed  to  be  crowned  with 
complete  success — this  immortal  soul  was  snatched  as  a  brand  from  the 
burning,  and  given  to  Christ  as  a  pledge  of  his  triumph,  and  the  first-fruits 
of  a  glorious  harvest.  While  others  mocked  and  reviled  him,  and  when 
his  chosen  disciples  stood  aloof,  the  dying  malefactor  relented — his  con- 
science awoke — his  heart  was  touched  ;  and,  amid  the  ridicule,  and  the 
execrations,  and  the  blasphemies  of  that  a-wful  hour,  one  solitary  voice 
was  heard,  issuing  from  the  cross  beside  him,  which  called  him  "  Lord," 
and  which  spake  of  his  "  Kingdom"  in  accents  of  faith,  and  penitence, 
and  prayer.  And  how  must  that  voice  have  gladdened  the  Saviour's 
heart,  and  imparted  to  him,  in  the  midst  of  bitterest  agony,  a  foretaste, 
as  it  were,  of  the  joy  "  that  was  set  before  him  ;"  exhibiting,  as  it  did,  a 
jDroof  of  the  efficacy  of  his  death,  the  faithfulness  of  God's  covenant 
l^romise,  and  the  certainty  of  his  reward ;  for  if,  even  now  on  the  cross, 
and  before  his  work  was  finished,  the  stricken  spirit  fled  to  him  for  ref- 
uge, and  was  quickened  into  spiritual  life  in  the  veiy  hour  of  death — 
was  it  not  a  sure  pledge  and  earnest  that  he  should  yet  bring  many  sons 
and  daughters  to  glory,  when,  being  by  God's  right  hand  exalted  to 
the  tin-one,  he  should  receive  the  promise  of  the  Father,  and  shed  forth 
the  Spirit  on  high  ? 

I.  In  reference  to  the  state  of  the  man's  mind  before  the  time  of  his 
conviction,  nothing  is  recorded  that  would  lead  us  to  suppose  that  he  had 
ever  thought  seriously  of  religion,  or  acquired  any  knowledge  of  the 
gospel  until  he  was  brought  to  Calvary.  He  is  described  as  a  malefactor, 
and  more  specifically  as  a  thief  or  i-obber — a  desperate  character — fear- 
ing neither  God  nor  man  ;  whose  crimes  exposed  him  to  the  highest  pen- 
alties of  the  law ;  and  his  own  confession  admits  the  justice  of  the 
sentence  under  which  he  suflTered — "  We  receive  the  due  reward  of  our 


k 


THE     DYING    MALEFACTOR.  705 

deeds."  On  a  comparisoa  of  the  parallel  passages  in  the  Gospels  of 
Matthew  and  Mark,  it  would  seem  that  at  first  he  had  joined  with  the 
othei-  malefactor  in  reviling  the  Saviour ;  for,  in  the  one,  it  is  said,  "The 
thieves  also  which  were  crucified  with  him,  cast  the  same  in  his  teeth ;" 
and  in  the  other,  "  They  that  were  crucified  with  him  reviled  him ;" 
expressions  which  may  indeed  be  interpreted  generally  as  descriptive  of 
Christ's  extreme  humiliation  in  being  subjected  to  reproach  from  such  a 
quarter — this  class  of  men  being  spoken  of  as  partaking  in  the  crime  of 
embittering  his  last  moments,  just  as  the  soldiers  are  said  to  have  filled  a 
sponge  with  vinegar,  because  one  or  more  of  them  did  so  ;  but  if  they 
be  understood  as  applying  specifically  to  each  of  the  two,  they  are  suffi- 
cient to  show  that,  at  first,  the  one  who  was  converted,  was  as  ungodly 
and  as  guilty  as  the  other. 

But  immediately  before  his  conversion,  and  preparatory  to  it,  a  change 
seems  to  have  been  wrought  in  the  state  of  his  mind — a  change  which 
consisted  in  a  deep  conviction  of  sin,  and  a  just  sense  of  his  own  dement 
on  account  of  it.  For  when  one  of  the  malefactors  railed  on  Jesus,  the 
other  answering  "  rebuked  him,  saying.  Dost  thou  not  fear  God,  seeing 
that  thou  art  in  the  same  condemnation  ?  And  we  indeed  justly ;  for 
we  receive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds."  The  whole  process  was  so 
suddenly  accomplished  in  this  case,  that  it  is  difficult  to  say  whether,  in 
the  order  of-  time,  the  convictions  which  are  expressed  in  this  remark- 
able confession  preceded,  by  any  perceptible  interval,  his  cordial  recep- 
tion of  the  truth;  but  as,  in  the  order  of  nature,  conviction  precedes 
conversion,  we  may  consider  it  part  of  his  experience,  while  as  yet  he 
was  in  a  state  of  transition  from  darkness  to  light.  The  words  of  his 
confession  imply  that  his  conscience,  which,  by  the  commission  of  crime, 
might  have  been  seared  as  with  a  hot  iron,  was  now  deeply  impressed 
with  a  sense  of  sin  ;  and  it  was  a  true  sense  of  sin — not  the  mere  "  sor- 
row of  the  world  which  worketh  death,"  but  godly  sorrow,  worldng 
toward  genuine  repentance ;  foi*,  although  the  condemnation  of  which 
he  speaks  might  be  the  temporal  sentence  of  death,  pronounced  and  ex- 
ecuted by  his  fellow-men,  his  language  shows  that  he  viewed  his  guilt 
with  reference  not  to  men  merely,  but  to  God  also — to  God,  as  the 
supreme  Lawgiver  and  the  final  Judge.  As  a  resident  at  Jerusalem,  or 
at  least  in  Judea,  the  seat  of  true  religion,  he  had  probably  enjoyed  some 
of  the  advantages  of  early  religious  instruction,  and  had  been  taught 
some  of  the  elementary  truths  of  Scripture  ;  for  he  speaks  of  God,  the 
only  living  and  true  God,  whose  name  he  knew  and  feared,  although  he 
had  lived  in  the  violation  of  his  law.  The  thought  of  God  as  a  Law- 
giver and  Judge  was  now  vividly  present  to  his  mind ;  and  the  conception 
of  God's  character,  combined  with  the  inherent  power,  of  conscience, 
■which,  even  in  the  breasts  of  the  most  depraved,  is  never  altogether 
extinguished,  produced  that  conviction  of  sin  which  is  invariably  ac- 
compauied  with  the  fear  of  God,  and  of  a  judgment  to   eome.      So 

45 


706  JA.MES    BUCHANAN 

long  as  God  can  he  kept  out  of  view  there  maj  be  a  secret  consciousness 
of  guilt,  without  any  sensible  alarm  or  apprehension  of  danger ;  and  hence 
the  malefactor's  question  to  his  hardened  fellow-svifferer — "  Dost  thou 
not  fear  God  ?"  But  so  soon  as  God  is  present  to  the  mind,  every  con- 
science intuitively  connects  guilt  with  danger,  and  awakens  fear  of  the 
wrath  to  come,  for  conscience  instinctively  points  to  God  as  a  Judge — 
to  God  as  an  avenger. 

But,  in  the  case  before  us,  as  in  every  other  where  there  is  a  com- 
mencement of  a  work  of  grace  in  the  heart,  conviction  of  sin  was  accom- 
panied, not  only  with  the  fear  of  danger,  but  with  such  a  sense  of 
demerit  as  led  to  the  acknowledgment  that  punishment  was  justly/  de- 
served. This  is  not  always  implied  in  the  mere  terrors  of  an  awakened 
conscience,  and  would  be  altogether  repudiated  by  a  conscience  still 
asleep.  The  malefactor  who  railed  at  Jesus  might  not  be  able  to  deny 
his  guilt,  and  he  might  yield  himself  as  a  passive  and  unresisting  vic- 
tim to  the  arm  of  jDublic  justice,  merely  because  he  could  not,  by  any 
resistance,  escape  from  the  punishment  of  his  crimes ;  but  had  he  been 
asked  to  acknowledge  that  he  justly  merited  the  bitter  death  which  he  was 
called  to  endure,  he  would  too,  probably,  have  denied  that  he  was  so 
guilty  as  to  deserve  such  a  punishment,  and  complained  of  the  hardship 
and  severity  of  his  case.  In  reference  to  God,  the  supreme  Judge,  and 
the  retributions  of  an  eternal  world,  he  seems  to  have  had  no  fear ;  for 
he  could  join,  even  at  that  solemn  houi',  and  in  spite  of  his  own  suffer- 
ings, in  the  insults  and  blasphemies  which  were  poured  out  on  the  meek 
and  lowly  Saviour ;  but  even  had  his  conscience  been  so  far  awakened 
as  to  impress  him  with  the  fear  of  God  and  eternity,  he  might  still  have 
been  utterly  destitute  of  that  deep  sense  of  the  evil  nature  of  sin,  which 
led  his  fellow-sufferer  to  acknowledge  that  he  was  only  receivmg  the  due 
reward  of  his  deeds.  A  convinced  sinner  may  tremble,  as  Felix  did, 
Avhcn  he  heard  of  temperance,  and  righteousness,  and  judgment  to 
come  ;  and  he  may  be  conscious  of  a  deep  horror  when  he  hears  of 
"  the  worm  that  shall  never  die,  and  the  fire  that  can  not  be  quenched  ;" 
yet  the  omniscient  eye  of  him  who  can  analyze  the  confused  emotions  of 
a  sinner's  heart,  might  not  discern  there  any  one  element  of  genuine 
contrition  ;  on  the  contrary,  he  might  find  the  fear  of  wrath  and  the 
dread  of  hell,  combined  with  an  invincible  spirit  of  opposition  to  God's 
authority,  an  undying  reluctance  to  condemn  his  own  sin,  and  an  unyield- 
ing determination  to  deny  the  rectitude  and  reasonableness  of  its  pen- 
alty. And  when,  therefore,  the  poor  malefactor  was  so  far  convinced  of 
his  sin,  as  not  only  to  be  impressed  with  a  sense  of  his  danger,  but  also 
with  a  sense  of  his  demerit,  and  of  God's  justice,  we  see  the  commence- 
ment of  a  great  change,  Avhich  affords  the  best  and  most  hopeful  symp- 
tom of  his  ultimate  and  entire  conviction. 

II.  While  he  was  thus  changed,  so  as  to  have  become  a  convinced  sin- 
ner, he  was  not  yet  a  converted  man,  but  his  conversion  immediately 


THE     DYING     MALEFACTOR.  707 

followed  ;  and  it  will  be  interesting  now  to  inquire  into  the  circumstan- 
ces which  accompanied,  and  the  means  which,  under  God's  blessings 
effected  that  great  change.  It  was  alike  complete  and  sudden  ;  it  waa 
wrought,  like  the  conversion  of  the  jailor,  in  a  short  space  of  time,  and 
yet,  it  araoimted  to  an  entire  revolution  in  all  his  views  and  habits,  inso- 
much that  he  became  a  new  man,  and,  born  on  the  cross,  he  passed  into 
heaven.  Now,  what  was  there  in  the  circumstances  iif  which  he  was  placed, 
and  in  the  means  Avhich  were  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  that  could 
account  for  so  great  a  change  ? 

If  we  place  ourselves  in  his  circumstances ;  if,  by  a  strong  mental 
effort,  we  bring  ourselves  to  look  on  the  scene  which  he  saw,  and  to 
realize,  by  the  eye  of  faith,  what  then  passed  before  the  eye  of  sense  ; 
if,  joining  the  crowd  which  thronged  the  judgment-hall  of  Pilate,  we 
listened  with  the  same  personal  interest  which  the  poor  thief  must  have 
felt,  when  Pilate  made  the  proposal  to  release  one  or  other  of  the  con- 
demned, did  we  then  join  the  tumultuous  procession,  and  follow  the  meek 
suffei'cr  as  he  slowly  walked  along  with  the  thieves,  "  followed  by  a  great 
company  of  people,  and  of  women,  who  lamented  and  bewailed  him  ?" 
did  we  hear  the  words  of  Avarning  and  consolation  which  he  spoke  to 
the  daughters  of  Jerusalem  ?  did  we  stand  beside  him  on  the  hill,  when 
the  cross,  which  Simeon  was  honored  to  bear,  was  planted  in  the 
ground  ?  did  we  see  "  the  man  of  sorrows"  carried  by  violence,  and 
nailed  to  the  accursed  tree  ?  did  we  look  on  his  benignant  countenance, 
and  listen  to  his  awful  words  ?  did  we  behold  the  sudden  darkening  of 
the  sky,  and  the  rending  of  the  rocks,  which  gave  a  deep  impressiveness 
to  the  scene  ?  Then,  with  our  knowledge  of  the  j^ersonal  dignity  of 
the  sufferer,  the  causes,  design,  and  end  of  his  death,  and  the  fullness  of 
all  gospel  truth,  which  is  embodied  in  his  cross,  we  could  have  no  dif- 
ficulty in  conceiving  how  such  a  scene,  so  Avitnessed  and  so  understood, 
might  have  converted  any  sinner  unto  God.  It  is,  indeed,  nothing  else 
than  a  spiritual  view  of  the  scene  then  witnessed  on  Calvary,  which  is 
the  chief  means  of  every  conversion,  the  cross  of  Christ  being  to  every 
instructed  disciple  the  power  of  God  and  the  Avisdom  of  God  unto  sal- 
A'ation  :  insomuch,  that  every  believer  Avill  say  Avith  the  apostle,  "  God 
forbid  that  I  should  glory,  save  in  the  cross  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 
Looking  back  to  that  scene  Avith  the  eye  of  faith,  the  Christian  derives 
from  it  all  his  sublimcst  vieAvs  and  his  holiest  impressions  of  the  truth  ;  he 
delights  to  contemplate  Avhat  the  poor  malefactor  Avas  privileged  to  Avit- 
ness ;  and,  as  often  as  he  reviews  the  events  of  that  aAvful  hour,  he  is 
filled  Avith  awe  and  Avonder,  Avith  admiration,  and  gratitude,  and  joy. 

But,  Avhile  the  scene  on  Calvary  must  appear  to  every  instructed  mind 
the  most  solemnly  interesting,  and  the  most  profoimdly  instructed  scene 
Avhick  Avas  ever  Avitncssed  on  earth,  it  was  quite  jiossible  that,  to  an 
unenlightened  mind,  it  might  fail  to  impart  any  spiritual  or  salutary  im- 
l)ression  ;  and  we  are  to  put  ourselves  into  the  place  of  this  poor  malefac- 


708  JAMES     BUCHANAN 

tor,  and  inquire  what  were  the  means  of  his  conversion,  when  it  is  clear 
he  came  to  Calvary  in  a  state  of  ignorance  and  guilt,  and  yet  was  sud- 
denly brought  out  of  darkness  into  marvelous  light. 

We  have  already  seen  that  he  had  been  brought  under  convictions 
of  sin,  such  as  are  sufficient  to  show,  that  depraved  and  guilty  as  he  had 
been,  he  had  still  a  conscience  in  his  breast,  and  some  notion,  however 
obscxire  and  feeble,  lof  God,  as  a  lawgiver,  governor,  and  judge.  He 
was  a  man — a  poor,  wretched,  and  degraded  man,  but  still  a  man,  and 
therefore  a  fit  and  capable  subject  of  conversion ;  and  partly  from  the 
hght  of  nature,  which  is  never  altogether  extinguished,  and  partly  from 
his  education  in  a  country  where  the  knowledge  and  worship  of  the  true 
God  were  established,  he  had  acquired  the  knowledge  of  some  element- 
ary truths,  such  as  the  being  and  providence  of  God,  the  difference 
betwixt  right  and  wrong,  the  demerit  and  sure  punishment  of  sin, 
which  was  sufficient  to  awaken  remorse  and  apprehension,  but  had  no 
power  to  effect  his  conversion.  Real  conversion  to  God  depends  on  the 
knowledge  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  How,  then,  was  this  poor 
malefactor  converted,  and  whence  did  he  derive  his  acquaintance  with 
that  truth  which  alone  maketh  wise  unto  salvation  ?  Oh  !  it  is  deeply 
interesting  to  mark  how  a  heart  that  has  been  opened  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  and  awakened  to  earnest  and  serious  inquiry,  will  pick  up  the  frag- 
ments of  gospel  truth,  m  whatever  form  they  may  be  presented  to  it, 
and  will  find  nourishment  in  the  very  crumbs  whiph  fiill  from  the  Mas- 
ter's table  !  for,  in  the  case  before  us,  there  was  no  formal  discourse — no 
full  disclosure  of  doctrine — no  systematic  instruction  ;  but  his  eye  was 
opened  to  observe,  and  his  ear  to  hear,  and  his  heart  to  receive  the 
truth,  as  it  was  presented  incidentally  during  his  progress  fi-om  Pilate's 
hall  to  the  hill  of  Calvary,  and  exhibited  before  his  crucifixion  there,* 
and  there  are  just  three  sources  from  Avhicli  he  derived  those  simple  les- 
sons which  sufficed  for  his  conversion. 

The  first  was  the  testimony  of  Chrisfs  friends :  not  only  the  testi- 
mony of  Pilate,  who  declared,  that  "  he  had  found  no  fiiult  in  him,"  but 
that  of  many  others  who  bore  Avitness  to  his  spotless  character,  and  of 
whom  it  is  said  (ver.  27),  that  "  there  followed  him  a  great  company  of 
people,  and  of  women,  which  also  bewailed  and  lamented  him."  The 
innocence  of  Christ  was  thus  impressed  on  the  malefactor's  mind,  and  is 
pointedly  referred  to  in  his  confession  :  "  We  receive  the  due  reward  of 
our  deeds,  but  this  man  hath  done  nothing  amiss." 

The  second  was  the  deportment  of  Christ ;  the  meek  majesty  of  that 
suffering  Saviour  ;  the  words  he  uttered,  breathing  a  spirit  so  different 
from  that  of  this  world  :  these  seemed  to  have  deepened  the  impression 
of  his  innocence  and  worth.  His  address  to  the  daughters  of  Jerusalem, 
so  solemn,  yet  so  tender ;  and  still  more,  the  prayer  for  his  murderers — 

*  See  an  admirable  sermou  by  Dr.  McCrie.  (It  is  found  in  "  History  and  Repository  o. 
Pulpit  Eloquence,  Deceased  Divines." — Ed.) 


THE    DYING     MALEFACTOR.  709 

"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  ;"  that  address 
and  this  prayer,  pronounced  at  such  an  hour — the  one  exhibiting  a 
prophet's  faithfulness,  the  other  a  Saviour's  love,  and  both  breathing  a 
spirit  of  meek  submission  to  God's  will,  and  intimating  the  guilt  of  sin, 
the  certainty  of  future  judgment,  and  the  necessity  of  forgiveness — these 
few  words,  uttei-ed  in  such  circumstances,  might  reveal  to  the  poor  male- 
factor such  a  view  of  Christ  as  would  irresistibly  impress  him  with  the 
conviction  that  he  was  no  common  suiferer,  and  that  his  was  no  ordinary 
death  ;  and  constrain  him  to  believe  that  he  was  none  other  than  the 
Son  of  God  and  the  Saviour  of  men  :  the  Son  of  God — for  he  calls  him 
Father  ;  and  the  Saviour  of  men — for  he  prayed  for  the  forgiveness  of 
his  very  murderers. 

But  there  was  a  third  :  he  was  not  left  to  ponder  on  the  scene  without 
a  commentary,  and  that  commentary  was  fui-nished  hy  the  Sciviour''s 
enemies — first  of  all,  in  the  sneers  and  blasphemies  which  they  uttered  ; 
and  secondly,  in  the  inscription  which  was  put  on  the  cross.  They 
meant  it  not ;  but  in  these  they  gave  such  a  testimony  to  the  Saviour, 
as  sufficed  for  the  conversion  of  his  fellow-sufferer.  The  rulers,  we 
read,  derided  him,  saying,  "  lie  saved  others.''''  Yes,  he  saved  others ; 
he  had  healed  the  sick,  and  given  eyes  to  the  blind,  and  ears  to  the  deaf, 
and'life  to  the  dead ;  and  that  testimony  to  Christ's  miraculous  power 
sunk  deep  into  tlie  heart  of  the  dying  man  beside  him.  But  who  was 
this  to  whom  his  very  enemies  gave  witness,  that  "he  saved  others,"  or 
what  did  he  profess  to  be  ?  This,  also,  the  dying  malefactor  learned 
from  their  lij^s  :  "  Let  him  save  himself,  if  he  be  the  Christ,  the  chosen 
of  God;''''  "  If  thou  be  the  King  of  the  Jews,  save  thyself;"  and  they 
put  a  superscription  over  him :  "  This  is  the  King  of  the  Jews.""  These 
words,  used  in  ridicule  or  rancoi'ous  hatred,  conA^eyed  to  the  mind  of 
the  malefactor  the  idea  of  what  Christ  claimed  and  professed  to  be ;  and 
when,  combined  with  what  he  had  seen  and  heard  ;  with  the  testimony 
which  had  been  given  to  his  miraculous  powers,  now  confirmed  by  the 
preternatural  darkness  of  the  sky,  and  the  rending  of  the  rocks ;  with 
what  he  had  witnessed  of  his  godlike  bearing,  "full  of  grace  and  truth," 
and  with  the  words  which  had  fallen  from  his  lips — they  carried  to  his 
heart  the  conviction  that  the  illustrious  sufferer  was  indeed  the  Son  of 
God,  tlie  Christ,  the  jMossiah,  that  had  been  in-omised  to  the  fathers ; 
that,  although  suspended  on  the  cross,  he  was  the  King  ;  and  if  a  king, 
then  he  had  a  kingdom ;  and  immediately  the  prayer  of  faith  burst  from  his 
quivering  lips:  "Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  comest  intothy  kingdom!" 

in.  If  Ave  now  consider  the  nature  of  the  change  which  was  thus  sud- 
denly produced,  or  wherein  it  properly  consisted,  and  the  results  which 
flowed  from  it,  we  shall  find  that  the  turning  point  of  his  conversion 
was,  that  Jesus  was  the  Christ.  This  was  precisely  the  point  in  ques- 
tion, both  Avith  the  scornful  multitude  and  the  subdued  malefactor. 
They  doubted;  he  belie ed.     They  required  another  kind  cf  evidence* 


710  JAMES    BUCHANAN. 

"Let  him  come  down  from  the  cross,  and  we  shall  believe  on  him;"  he 
did  not  come  down  from  the  jross,  but  having  died  there,  he  arose  from 
the  dead,  and  their  unbelief  remained  ;  but  the  dying  malefactoi-,  satis- 
fied Avith  the  evidence  already  given,  saw  his  glory  through  the  vail  of 
his  humiliation,  and,  embracing  him  m  his  true  character  as  the  Christ, 
the  chosen  of  God,  he  believed,  to  the  saving  of  his  soul. 

It  was  simply  by  feith — and  by  faith  in  the  simple  truth,  that  Jesus  is 
the  Christ — that  this  man  passed  from  death  unto  life ;  but  here  was 
great  faith  indeed.  For  consider  the  circumstances  in  which  Christ  was 
then  placed.  He  was  in  the  lowest  depths  of  his  humiliation ;  in  the 
extremest  hour  of  his  agony  on  the  accursed  tree ;  suffering  the  seiiteuf  e 
of  death  as  a  public  criminal ;  surrounded  by  multitudes  who  ridiculed 
and  reviled  him  ;  forsaken  by  his  chosen  disciples,  and  complaining  that 
he  had  been  forsaken  by  God  himself;  yet,  in  these  circumstances  of 
humiliation,  and  sorrow,  and  shame,  the  dying  malefactor  called  him 
Lord^  and  spake  of  his  kingdom^  and  addressed  him  in  the  language  of 
prayer  !  Yes  ;  when  Jesus  was  slowly  dying  on  the  cross,  and  had  no 
l>rospect  of  life,  still  less  of  a  kingdom  on  eai'th,  the  poor  malefactor 
showed  at  once  the  greatness  of  his  faith,  and  his  correct  appreciation 
of  the  nature  of  Christ's  kingdom,  by  uttering  a  prayer  which  implied  in 
it  his  own  immortality,  and  a  spiritual  and  eternal  kingdom  in  heav.en. 
Here  was  a  manifestation  of  faith  to  which  we  can  find  no  parallel  in  the 
history  of  the  apostles  themselves.  They  called  him  Lord  after  his 
resurrection ;  but  this  man  calls  him  Lord  on  the  very  cross ;  they  spake 
of  his  kingdom  but  doubtfully,  and  with  many  gross  earthly  anticipa- 
tions :  '.'  We  trusted  that  it  had  been  he  which  should  have  redeemed 
Israel ;"  and,  "  Lord  !  Avdlt  thou  at  this  time  restore  the  kingdom  to  Is- 
rael?" but  this  man  speaks  of  his  kingdom  as  a  future  inheritance, 
whose  certainty  was  not  affected  by  his  shameful  and  ignominious  death. 
And  beheving  in  Christ  as  the  Lord's  Anointed,  the  Messiah  which  had 
been  promised  unto  the  fathers,  he  embraced  him  as  his  own  Saviour ; 
encouraged,  doubtless,  by  the  grace  which  he  had  witnessed,  and  by 
that  most  merciful  prayer  for  his  murderers,  he  felt  that  he  could  confide 
and  trust  in  such  a  friend ;  and  therefore  he  addressed  him  m  that  lan- 
guage of  believing  prayer :  "  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  comest  hito 
thy  kingdom." 

This  prayer  is  alike  touching  from  its  simplicity,  and  remarkable  for 
its  comprehensive  brevity.  He  seemed  to  ask  little,  yet  he  asked  every 
thing  that  was  necessary  for  his  everlasting  welfare  :  "  Lord,  remember 
me,"  was  his  simple  and  modest  request ;  but  it  included  much — it  cast 
him  on  the  Saviour's  care — it  put  his  soul  into  the  Saviour's  hands — it 
expressed  his  faith,  his  dependence,  his  desire,  his  hope  ;  as  if  he  had 
said,  I  am  a  poor  dying  sinner:  thou  art  a  king  going  to  thy  khigdom — 
thou  canst  save  me.  I  leave  myself  in  thy  hands  ;  I  lean  on  thy  love  ; 
Lord,  remember  me ! 


THE     DYING     MALEFACTOR.  711 

The  circumstances  of  the  case  did  not  admit  of  that  full  exhibition  of 
the  practical  fruits  of  conversion  which  adorn  the  life  and  conversation 
of  every  true  believer ;  for  he  was  converted  at  the  eleventli  hour,  and 
was  no  sooner  converted  than  he  died,  and  entered  into  glory.  We 
have,  however,  even  in  this  brief  narrative,  some  precious  indications  of 
the  great  moral  change  which  had  been  wrought  on  his  mind  and  heart. 
He  evinced  a  true  sense  of  sin,  a  thorough  conviction  of  its  demerit,  a 
just  apprehension  of  the  punishment  that  was  due  to  it ;  an  awful  fear 
of  God,  a  lively  trust  and  confidence  in  the  Saviour,  a  serious  thought- 
fulness  in  regard  to  the  future,  a  disposition  to  pray,  and  a  new-born  but 
honest  zeal  for  righteousness  and  truth,  which  prompted  him  to  lebuke 
his  fellow-suiferer  in  these  remarkable  words  :  "  Dost  thou  not  fear  God, 
seeing  that  thou  art  in  the  same  condemnation  ;  and  we  indeed  justly, 
for  we  receive  the  due  reward  of  our  deeds;"  and  these  new  principles 
and  feelings  would  no  doubt  have  evinced  their  power,  by  altering  all 
his  habits,  and  his  whole  course  of  life,  had  life  been  prolonged.  It  is 
true,  that  in  many  cases,  serious  thoughts  of  God,  and  judgment,  and 
eternity,  are  often  awakened  in  the  souls  of  unconverted  men,  when  they 
have  the  near  prospect  of  death,  and  that,  in  many  cases,  when  health 
is  restored  and  life  prolonged,  they  "  vanish  like  the  morning  cloud,  and 
the  early  dew."  So  that,  in  the  case  of  most  late  conversions,  there  is  a 
painful  feeling  of  doubt  as  to  the  genuineness  and  stability  of  those  good 
resolutions  which  are  awakened  in  the  mere  prospect  of  death,  such  as 
must  prevent  any  very  certain  deliverance  on  the  actual  state  and  eternal 
prospects  of  such  as  are  not  spared  to  verify  their  profession  by  a  con- 
sistent Christian  life.  But  in  the  instance  before  us  there  is  no  room  to 
doubt ;  we  have  the  infallible  testimony  of  Christ  himself  sealing  this 
man's  conversion,  and  assuring  him  of  eternal  glory.  The  grand  result  of 
the  change  that  was  wrought  upon  him  on  the  cross,  is  declared  in  these 
words,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  this  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Par- 
adise." No  sooner  was  the  prayer  uttered,  than  the  promise  was  given ; 
and"  that  promise  Avas  to  be  immediately  fulfilled.  The  Lord  gives  more 
than  was  asked  :  the  malefactor's  request  was,  "  Lord,  remembei-  me !" 
but  the  answer  far  exceeded  the  demand  ;  it  spake  to  him  of  Paradise, 
and  of  Christ's  presence  there,  and  of  his  admission  that  very  day. 
What  a  sudden  transition — what  a  glorious  change!  A  malefactor, 
condemned  for  his  crimes  to  die — led  to  Calvary,  that  he  miglit  be 
nailed  to  a  cross — converted  there  as  he  hung  between  life  and  death, 
on  the  brink  of  eternity — and  on  the  stlf-same  day  born  again,  justified, 
adopted,  saved ;  translated  from  earth  to  heaven — from  Calvaiy  to 
Paradise — from  a  cross  of  shame  to  a  throne  of  glory  ! 

On  a  review  of  the  interesting  narrative  to  which  our  attention  nas 
been  directed,  we  may  derive  from  it  many  instructive  lessons,  wliicli  are 
applicable  to  all  sinners  at  the  ])resent  day. 

1.  It  exhibits  a  remarkable  proof  of  the  Saviour's  power.      That  this 


712  JAMES     BDCHANAN. 

malefactor  was  a  great  sinner,  only  serves  to  show  that  he  by  whom  he 
was  delivered  was  a  great  Saviour ;  that  he  had  reached  the  extreme 
point  of  guilt,  and  the  very  end  of  life,  only  serves  to  make  it  clear 
that  "  Christ  is  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost."  The  power  of  Christ 
to  subdue  the  most  hardened  sinner,  and  his  power  to  cancel  the  most 
aggravated  guilt,  and  his  power  to  open  the  gate  of  heaven,  and  secure 
our  admission  there^ — all  this  is  evinced  with  undeniable  certainty  by  the 
fact,  that  even  in  the  lowest  depths  of  his  humiliation,  before  his  work 
was  finished,  or  his  reward  secured,  he  snatched  this  brand  from  the 
burning,  and  rescued  this  captive  from  the  power  of  Satan,  and  carried 
him  as  a  trophy  from  the  cross,  when  he  entered  within  the  vail.  And 
O !  if  such  was  Christ's  power  then,  who  should  noio  despair,  Avho  knows 
that  Jesus,  then  on  the  cross,  is  now  upon  the  throne,  exalted  as  a  Prince 
and  Saviour,  to  give  repentance  and  remission  of  sins. 

2.  It  exhibits  a  precious  proof  of  the  perfect  freedom  of  his  grace. 
Loaded  with  crime,  and  standing  on  the  very  verge  of  an  eternal  world, 
what  could  have  been  of  any  avail  to  this  poor  sinner  but  grace^  and  grace 
that  was  perfectly  free.  Righteousness  he  had  none  ;  good  works  he 
had  none.  He  was  self-convicted  and  self-condemned,  and  he  had  noth- 
ing before  him  but  the  certain  fearful  looking-for  of  judgment,  unless 
God  had  grace^  and  that  grace  were  free.  But  when  he  heard  the  Sa- 
viour pray  for  his  murderers — when  he  heard  him  pray  for  their  forgive- 
ness— the  idea  oifree  grace  to  pardon  sin  seems  to  have  entered  into  his 
inmost  soul,  and  he  ventured  to  ask  that  the  Lord  Avould  remember  him ; 
and  immediately — such  was  the  grace  of  Christ — ^lie  required  no  previous 
qualifications,  demanded  no  acquired  merit,  imposed  no  conditions,  made 
no  stipulations  of  any  kind ;  but  gave  him  at  once  an  answer  in  peace, 
and  a  full  and  irreversible  promise  of  admission  into  glory ;  and  this,  too, 
while  he  was  in  such  agony  as  might  have  been  expected  to  concentrate 
all  his  care  upon  himself;  yet,  even  then,  he  had  room  in  his  heart  for 
the  sorrows  of  this  poor  sinner. 

3.  It  has  been  remarked,  that  in  the  Bible,  this  is  a  solitary  exMnple 
of  a  man  being  converted  at  the  hour  of  death — there  being  one  such 
instance,  that  none  may  despair^  and  only  one,  that  none  m.%j  jyresume. 
Presumption  and  despair  are  the  two  great  rocks  on  which  we  are  ever 
in  danger  of  making  shipwreck  ;  and  this  narrative  may  well  serve  to 
guard  LIS  against  both ;  against  despair :  for  why  should  any  man  despair, 
who  reads  of  the  thief  who  was  converted  on  the  cross ;  and  against 
presumption:  for  who  dare  2>^''cswne  when  he  reads  that  there  was 
another  thief  on  another  cross,  who  died  unconverted  there  ?  The  hoar- 
iest sinner  who  lives  may  be  encouraged  by  the  one,  but  the  boldest 
may  be  deterred  by  the  other.  "The  one  was  taken  and  the  other 
left." 

4.  We  learn  from  this  narrative  how  Uttle  of  God's  truth  may  serve 
for  conversion,  if  it  be  suitably  improved  by  the  hearer,  and  savingly 


THE    DYING    MALEFACTOR.  713 

applied  by  the  Spirit,  The  penitent  on  the  cross  was  saved  by  means 
of  mere  fragments  of  truth,  and  these  presented  to  him  in  the  bhxs- 
phemies  of  Christ's  accusers  and  the  inscription  on  his  cross.  This  is  a 
delightfid  thought,  when  it  is  viewed  in  connection  with  the  cnse  of  the 
poor  and  ignorant,  and  of  others  who  Hve  under  a  dark  or  defective  dis- 
pensation of  truth  ;  but  it  is  unutterably  solemn  when  viewed  in  connec- 
tion with  our  own  case,  for  how  shall  we  escape  if  we  die  unconverted, 
after  the  light  we  have  received,  the  many  sermons  we  have  heard,  the 
much  truth  we  have  slighted  and  despised ! 

5.  We  learn,  that  on  the  instant  of  his  conversion,  a  siimer  acquires 
all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  a  child  of  God,  and  that,  if  he  die  hnme- 
diately  thereafter,  he  Avill  immediately  pass  into  glory.  No  sooner  was 
this  malefactor  converted,  than  he  was  assured  by  the  Lord  himself,  that 
on  the  self-same  day  he  should  be  with  him  in  Paradise.  Had  he  lived 
on  earth,  he  would  have  been  capable  of  growth  and  increase  In  grace; 
but  the  new  creature,  although  but  as  a  new-born  babe,  is  entire  in  all 
its  members,  and  capable  of  entering  into  the  kingdom,  however  short 
its  earthly  span. 


DISCOURSE    L. 

ROBERT    S.    CANDLISH,    D.D. 

Dr.  Candlish  was  born  about  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,-  of  humble 
and  honest  parentage,  and,  having  attended  to  the  usual  classical  and  theological 
curriculum,  was  hcensed  as  a  probationer,  and  located,  about  the  year  1832,  in  a 
small  town  in  the  west  Of  Scotland.  Preaching  occasionally  in  Glasgow,  his 
superior  gifts  attracted  attention,  and  he  was  soon  called  to  that  city,  where,  ever 
since,  he  has  held  a  prominent  position,  and  identified  his  name  with  all  the  gi'eat 
church  movements  of  the  age.  At  the  period  of  the  disruption  in  1843,  his  people 
erected  a  temporary  place  of  worship,  and,  some  ten  years  ago,  a  splendid  church- 
edifice  was  built,  at  an  expense  of  nearly  £10,000.  His  people  (the  St.  G-eorge's 
Free  Church)  are  numerous  and  wealthy,  and,  besides  home  support,  do  much  for 
benevolent  purposes  abroad. 

Dr.  Candlish  is  of  middle  height  and  slightly  formed,  and  speaks  with  a  broad 
Scotch  dialect.  Uarne^tness  is  a  striking  characteristic  in  his  preaching,  his  energy 
resembling  the  impetuosity  and  fire  of  Chalmers.  His  gesticulations  are  violent 
and  ungraceful.  His  mind  is  rather  imaginative  than  profound,  and  his  writing's 
discover  a  frequent  looseness  of  thought  and  style,  wliich  appear  to  be  the  I'esult 
of  haste  in  their  preparation.  They  are,  however,  quite  popular ;  and  his  chief 
works — an  "  Exposition  of  Genesis,"  "  Scripture  Characters  and  Miscellanies," 
"  The  Christian  Sacrifice,"  "  Past  Memories  and  Present  Duties" — have  passed 
through  several  editions,  and  extended  widely  his  influence. 

The  following,  wliich  is  the  first  of  a  series  of  discourses  on  Scripture  Characters, 
has  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  finest  specimen  of  polished  eloquence  which 
this  distinguished  divine  has  ever  put  to  press.  In  the  title,  we  substitute  the  word 
"  doom"  for  "  characteristic." 


THE    UNIVERSAL    DOOM. 

"  And  Joseph  died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation." — Exodus,  i.  6. 

TuE  successions  of  generations  among  the  children  of  men,  has  been, 
from  Homer  downward,  likened  to  that  of  the  leaves  among  the  trees 
of  the  forest.  The  foliage  of  one  summer,  withering  gradually  away  and 
strewing  the  earth  with  wrecks,  has  its  place  supplied  by  tlie  exuberance 
of  the  following  spring.     Of  the  countless  myriads  of  gay  blossoms  and 


THE     UNIVERSAL     DOOM.  715 

^reen  leaves,  that  but  a  few  months  ago  were  glancing  in  the  beams  of 
the  joyous  sun,  not  one  remains ;  but  a  new  race,  all  full  of  brightness 
and  promise  as  before,  covers  the  naked  branches,  and  the  woods  again 
burst  forth  in  beauty  and  song,  as  if  decay  had  never  passed  over  any 
of  their  leafy  boughs.  So  of  men  :  "  one  generation  passeth  away,  and 
another  generation  cometh,  but  the  earth  abideth  forever"  (Eccl.,  i.  4) 
The  same  to  the  new  generation  that  cometh — the  same  scene  of  weary 
labor,  endless  variety,  alternate  hope  and  disappointment,  as  if  no  warn- 
ing of  change  had  ever  been  given,  as  if  the  knell  of  death  had  never 
rung  over  the  generation  that  is  passing  away. 

But  there  is  one  point  in  which  the  analogy  does  not  hold :  there  is 
one  difference  between  the  race  of  leaves  and  the  race  of  men.  Between 
the  leaves  of  successive  summers  an  interval  of  desolation  intervenes, 
and  the  "  bare  and  wintry  woods"  emphatically  mark  the  passage  from 
one  season  to  another.  But  there  is  no  such  pause  in  the  succession  of 
the  generations  of  men.  Insensibly  they  melt  and  shade  into  one 
another.  An  old  man  dies,  and  a  child  is  born  ;  daily  and  hourly  there  is 
a  death  and  a  birth  ;  and  imperceptibly,  by  slow  degrees,  the  actors  in 
life's  busy  scene  are  changed.  Hence  the  full  force  of  this  thought, 
"  one  generation  passeth  away,  and  another  generation  cometh,"  is  not 
ordinarily  felt. 

Let  us  conceive,  however,  of  such  a  blank  in  the  succession  of 
generations  as  winter  makes  in  the  succession  of  leaves.  Let  us 
take  our  stand  on  some  middle  ground  in  the  stream  of  history, 
where  there  is,  as  it  were,  a  break  or  a  void  between  one  series  of 
events  and  another,  where  the  whole  tide  of  life,  in  the  preceding  nar- 
rative, is  engulfed  and  swallowed  up,  and  the  new  stream  has  not  begun 
to  flow.  Such  a  position  we  have  in  some  of  the  strides  which  sacred 
history  makes  over  many  intervening  years,  from  the  crisis  or  catastrophe 
of  one  of  the  world's  dramas  to  the  opening  of  another,  as,  for  instance, 
in  the  transition  from  the  going  down  of  Israel  into  Egypt,  in  the  days 
of  Joseph,  to  their  coming  out  again,  in  the  time  of  Moses.  Here  is  a 
dreary  vacancy,  as  of  a  leafless  winter,  coming  in  between  the  scene  in 
which  Joseph  and  his  cotemporaries  bore  so  conspicuous  a  part,  and 
another  scene  in  which  not  one  of  the  former  actors  remained  to  bear  a 
share  ;  but  "  there  arose  up  a  new  king  over  Egypt,  M'hich  knew  not 
Joseph."  And  the  historian  seems  to  be  aware  of  the  solenmity  of  this 
pause,  when,  dismissing  tlie  whole  subject  of  his  previous  narrative,  he 
records  the  end  of  all  in  the  brief,  but  signilicant  words,  "  And  Joseph 
died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation." 

The  first  view  of  this  verse  that  occurs  to  us  is  its  striking  sig- 
nificancy  and  force,  as  a  commentary  on  the  history  of  which  it  so  ab- 
ruptly and  emphatically  announces  the  close.  The  previous  narrative 
presents  to  us  a  busy  scene — an  anin^ated  picture ;  and  here,  as  if  by  one 
single  stroke,  all  is  reduced  to  a  blank.      But  now  we  saw  a  crowded 


716  ROBERT    S     CANDLISH. 

mass  of  human  beings — men  of  like  passions  with  ourselves — ^moving 
and  mingling  in  the  eager  excitement  of  personal,  domestic,  and  public 
interests  like  our  own.  They  were  all  earnest  in  their  own  pursuits  ;  and 
the  things  of  their  day  were  to  them  as  momentous  as  those  of  our  day 
are  to  us.  They  thought,  and  felt,  and  acted,  and  suffered  ;  they  were 
harassed  by  cares  and  agitated  by  j^assions  ;  and  their  restless  energies, 
contending  with  the  resistless  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  the  very  earth 
they  trod,  seemed  instinct  with  life  and  the  stern  struggles  and  activities 
of  life — when,  lo  !  as  by  the  touch  of  a  magic  spell,  or  the  sudden  turn 
of  the  hidden  wheel,  the  whole  thronged  and  congregated  multitude  is 
gone,  like  the  pageant  of  a  dream,  and  the  awful  stillness  of  desolation 
reigns.  It  is  as  if  having  gazed  on  ocean,  when  it  bears  on  its  broad 
bosom  a  gallant  and  well-manned  fleet,  bending  gracefully  to  its  rising 
winds,  and  triumphantly  stemming  its  swelling  waves ;  you  looked  out 
again,  and,  at  the  very  next  glance,  beheld  the  wide  waste  of  waters 
reposing  in  dark  and  horrid  peace  over  the  deeji-buried  wrecks  of  the 
recent  storm.  All  the  earth,  inhabited  by  the  men  with  whose  joys  and 
sorrows  we  have  been  sympathizing — Egypt,  with  its  proud  pyramids 
and  palaces — Goshen,  with  its  quiet  pastoral  homes — ^the  rich  land  of 
Canaan — the  tented  deserts  of  Ishmael — all  passes  in  a  moment  from 
our  view ;  and  there  is  before  us,  instead,  a  place  of  tombs,  one  vast 
city  of  silent  death,  "Joseph  is  dead,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that 
generation." 

"What  an  obituary  is  here !  What  a  chronicle  of  mortahty !  How 
comprehensive,  yet  withal  how  precise  and  particular — a  single  intima- 
tion swelling  out  into  the  most  wide,  and  sAveeping,  and  wholesale  gen- 
erality of  announcement.  In  the  first  mstance,  the  name  is  given — 
"  Joseph  died" — as  if  the  mtention  were  to  enumerate  in  detail  the 
whole.  But  the  number  grows,  and  acciunulates  too  fast — "  his  brethren 
also  died."  These,  too,  might  in  part  be  specified — Reuben,  Simeon, 
Levi,  and  Judah — Issachar,  Zebulon,  and  Benjamin — Dan  and  Naph- 
tali — Gad  and  Ashur.  But  already  the  family  branches  out  beyond  the 
limits  of  easy  computation.  And  all  around  there  stands  a  mighty  mul- 
titude, which  arithmetic  is  too  slow  to  reckon,  and  the  pen  of  the  ready 
writer  too  impatient  to  register,  and  the  I'ecord  too  small  to  contain ; 
and  all  must,  without  name  or  remark,  be  summed  up  in  the  one  indis- 
criminate notice — a  notice  all  the  more  emphatical  on  that  very  account 
— "  Joseph  died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation." 

"And  all  that  generation."  How  many  thousands  does  this  })hraso 
embrace  !  And  of  how  many  thousands  is  this  the  sole  monument  and 
memorial !  How  startling  a  force  is  there  in  this  awful  brevity,  this 
compression  and  abridgment,  the  names  and  histories  of  millions  brought 
within  the  compass  of  so  brief  a  statement  of  a  single  fact  concerning 
them — that  they  all  die  ! 

And  these  were  men  as  alive  as  you  are  to  the  bustle  of  their  little 


THE     UNIVERSAL    DOOM.  717 

day — as  full  of  schemes  and  speculations — as  much  wrapt  up  in  their 
own  concerns,  and  the  cares  of  the  times  in  which  they  lived.  Each 
one  of  them  could  have  filled  volumes  with  details  of  actions  and  adven- 
tures too  important  in  his  eyes  to  be  ever  forgotten ;  and  yet  all  that  is 
told  of  them  in  this  divine  record,  and  told  of  them  as  of  an  uncounted 
and  undistinguished  mass,  is,  that  they  all  died.  Or,  if  any  particular 
indivi<lual  has  been  selected  for  especial  notice — if  any  one,  by  the  lead- 
ing of  Providence,  and  by  his  own  Avorth,  has  gained  in  this  record  an 
imdying  name — and  if  he  has  collected  a  small  circle  around  him,  who 
dimly  and  doubtfully  stand  out  in  his  light  and  luster,  and  are  not  quite 
lost  in  the  common  crowd,  still  he  to  whom  prominency  is  given,  and 
they  who  partly  share  his  exemption  from  oblivion,  are  singled  out  only 
that  they  may  be  the  better  seen  to  have  their  part  in  the  one  event  which 
happeneth  alike  to  all ;  and  of  each  and  all  the  same  summary  record  is 
to  be  made — "  And  Joseph  died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  gen- 
eration." 

Surely  it  seems  as  if  the  Lord  intended  by  this  bill  of  mortality  for  a 
whole  race,  which  his  own  Sjnrit  has  framed,  to  stamp  as  with  a  char 
acter  of  utter  mockery  and  insignificance,  the  most  momentous  distinc- 
tions and  interests  of  time  ;  these  all  being  engulfed  and  swallowed  up  iu 
the  general  doom  of  death,  which  ushers  in  the  one  distinction  of  eter- 
nity. 

I.  Look  to  the  announcement  as  it  respects  the  individual — "  Joseph 
died."  Carry  this  intimation  back  with  you  into  the  various  changes  of 
his  eventful  life,  invested  as  these  are  in  your  recollection  with  a  peculiar 
charm  by  the  aftectionate  associations  and  the  fresh  feelings  of  child- 
hood ;  and  does  not  the  intimation  impart  to  them  all  a  still  more  touch- 
ing and  tender  interest  ?  You  see  him  a  child,  a  boy,  a  youth  at  home, 
the  fiworite  of  a  widowed  father,  the  first  pledge  of  a  love  now  hallowed 
by  death.  You  follow  him  Avith  full  sympatliy  through  the  petty  plots 
and  snares  of  a  divided  family,  to  which  his  frank  and  unsuspecting  shu- 
plicity  made  him  an  easy  prey ;  and  when  you  think  of  him  as  even 
then,  in  boyhood,  honored  by  direct  communications  from  above,  and  on 
that  very  account  ]-)ersecuted  and  hated  by  those  who  naturally  should 
have  cherished  and  watched  over  him ;  when  you  read  of  his  unsuspect- 
ing readiness  to  meet  them  half-way  in  their  plans  against  him,  and  of  the 
desperate  malignity  of  these  plans — the  cruel  deceit  practiced  on  his 
aged  parent,  and  his  OAvn  narrow  escape,  his  pi-ovidential  deliverance — 
are  you  not  touched  by  the  reflection  that  all  this  is  but  to  lead  to  the 
brief  conclusion,  "  Joseph  died  ?"  You  follow  him  to  Egypt.  You  go 
with  him  into  Potiphar's  house,  and  rejoice  in  his  advancement  there. 
You  share  in  his  disgrace  and  degradation.  Joseph  in  prison  is  to  you 
like  an  old  familiar  friend.  Ills  innocence,  his  unsullied  honor  to  hie 
deceived  master,  his  unshaken  loyalty  to  his  God,  endear  him  to  your 
hearts,  and  you  burn  with  indignation  at  the  wrongs  he  suffers.     The 


718  ROBERT     S.    CANDLISH. 

dreams  wliich  lie  interpreted,  the  chief  baker's  fate,  the  chief  butler's 
fault,  all  the  particulars,  in  short,  of  his  exaltation  to  royal  favor — ^his 
rank  at  Pharaoh's  court,  his  power  over  all  Egypt,  his  policy  in  provid- 
ing for  the  years  of  famine,  his  treatment  of  his  father  and  his  father's 
house — these  circumstances  in  his  history,  the  history  Avhich  first  M^on 
your  regard  in  childhood,  and  will  longest  retain  its  hold  over  your  age 
— these  things  give  to  the  earthly  career  of  Joseph  an  attractiveness  and 
beauty  in  your  fond  esteem,  equaling,  nay,  far  surpassing,  what  you 
have  ever  found  in  any  of  the  pictures  of  romance. 

It  may  not  be  pleasant  to  cast  over  all  this  stirring  picture  the  sullen 
gloom  of  death !  Yet,  it  does  invest  it  all  with  a  sort  of  softened  and 
twilight  charm,  like  the  peaceful  shades  of  evening  shed  over  a  busy 
landscape  ;  and  it  teaches,  at  all  events,  a  salutary  lesson — to  bear  in 
mind,  that,  prominent  as  was  the  station  Joseph  occupied  in  his  day, 
famous  through  all  ages  as  his  name  has  become,  great  and  lasting  as 
Avere  the  fi-uits  of  his  measures,  after  he  was  gone,  touching  not  the 
Israelites  alone,  but  Egypt  and  all  the  world,  he  himself  had  to  go  the 
way  of  all  flesh.  His  trials,  wdth  their  many  aggravations — his  triumphs, 
w^ith  all  their  glories,  were  alike  brief  and  transient ;  and  his  eventful 
career  ended,  as  the  obscurest  and  most  common-place  lifetime  must 
end — for  "  Joseph  died." 

Kead  over  again  the  history  of  Joseph,  with  this  running  title,  thia 
continual  motto,  "  And  Joseph  died."  Call  before  your  mind's  eye  it? 
successive  scenes ;  and  as  one  by  one  they  pass  in  review  before  you, 
and  you  gaze  on  the  man  of  so  many  changes,  let  a  loud  voice  ever  and 
anon  ring  in  your  ears  the  knell,  "  And  Joseph  died,"  and  try  how  its 
startling  alarums  will  afiect  the  judgments  you  form  and  the  emotions 
you  feel !  Take  each  event  by  itself,  isolate  it,  separate  it  from  all  the 
rest,  bring  it  at  once  into  immediate  contact  with  the  event  which  closes 
all,  and  see  how  it  looks  by  the  light,  or  in  the  luridshade  of  the  tomb. 

Joseph  is  at  home,  the  idol  of  a  parent.  Ah  !  dote  not,  thou  ven- 
erable sire,  on  thy  fair  and  dutiful  child.  Remember  how  soon  it  may 
be  said  of  him,  and  how  certainly  it  must  be  said  of  him,  that  "  Joseph 
died."  Joseph  is  lost,  and  the  aged  father  is  disconsolate.  He  thinks 
of  his  son's  bright  promise,  and  of  all  that  he  might  have  been,  had  he 
been  for  a  season  spared.  But  grieve  not,  thou  gray-haired  patriarch. 
What  though  thy  child  has  gone  ere  he  has  won  life's  empty  jirizes  ? 
Ah  !  think,  though  he  had  been  left  to  win  them  all,  how  it  must  have 
come  speedily  to  the  same  issue  at  the  last,  and  it  must  have  been  said 
of  him,  that  "Joseph  died."  Joseph  is  in  trouble — betrayed,  per- 
secuted, distressed,  wounded  in  his  tenderest  feelings,  a  stranger  among 
strangers,  a  prisoner,  a  slave.  But  let  him  not  be  disquieted  above  meas- 
ure, nor  mourn  over  the  loss  of  his  prosperity.  It  will  be  all  one  to 
him,  w^hen  a  few  years  are  gone  and  the  end  comes.  It  is  but  a  little 
while,  and  it   shall   be  said  of  him  that  *'■  Joseph   died."     Joseph   is 


THE     UNIVERSAL     DOOM.  719 

exalted  ;  lie  is  high  in  Avealth,  in  honor,  and  in  power.  lie  is  restored 
to  his  father  ;  he  is  reconciled  to  his  brethren.  But  why  should  all  his 
glory  and  his  joy  elate  him  ?  It  will  be  nothing  to  h'un  soon — when  it 
comes  to  be  said  of  him  that  "  Joseph  died."  Ah  !  there  is  but  one  of 
Josei)h's  many  distinctions,  Avhcther  of  character  or  of  fortune,  that  does 
not  shrink  and  shrivel  beside  this  stern  announcement.  The  simplicity 
of  his  trust  in  God,  the  steadtastness  of  his  adherence  to  truth  and 
holiness,  the  favor  of  heaven,  his  charity  out  of  a  j^ure  heart,  and  a  good 
conscience  and  faith  unfeigned — these  will  stand  the  shock  of  collision 
Avith  this  record  of  his  decease.  And  the  one  bright  thought  on  which 
chiefly  we  love  to  rest,  when  we  read  this  record  is,  that  he  of  whom  Ave 
learn  the  tidings  that  he  is  dead,  is  the  same  Joseph  whom  we  have 
heard  uttering,  in  his  prosperity,  the  noble  sentiment,  "  How  shall  I  do 
this  great  Avickedness,  and  sin  against  God  ?" — the  same  Joseph  of  Avhom 
Ave  have  read  in  prison,  that  "  the  Lord  AA'as  Avith  him,  and  showed  hini 
mercy" — the  same  Joseph  whom  Ave  have  seen  in  Pharaoh's  ])resence 
disclaiming  all  personal  credit,  and  giving  glory  to  God  alone :  "  It  is 
not  in  me  ;  God  shall  give  Pharaoh  an  answer  of  peace" — the  same 
Joseph  who  has  spoken  so  kindly  to  his  father  and  brethren,  soothing  his 
flxther's  death-bed  Avith  the  promise,  that  he  should  indeed,  as  he  so  fondly 
Avished,  lie  with  his  sires  in  the  promised  land :  "  I  Avill  do  as  thou  hast 
said;"  and  relieving,  with  exquisite  delicacy,  the  troubled  consciences 
of  his  brethren,  "  Fear  not,  ye  thought  evil  against  me,  but  God  meant 
it  unto  good ;  I  will  nourish  you  and  your  little  ones ;" — and  finally,  the 
same  Joseph  who  is  found  strong  in  fixitli  Avhen  his  OAvn  hour  of  depart- 
ure comes,  hoping  against  hope,  "  making  mention  of  the  departing  of 
the  children  of  Israel,  and  giving  commandment  concerning  his  bones," 
saying,  "  God  Avill  surely  visit  you,  and  ye  shall  carry  up  my  bones  from 
hence." 

Yes,  it  is  something  to  learn  that  it  is  such  a  man,  Avho  so  fears  to 
offend  against  God,  so  trusts  in  his  mercy,  and  so  glorifies  him  before 
kings ;  one,  moreover,  so  dutiful  to  his  father,  so  generous  and  forgiving 
to  his  brethren  ;  and  one,  in  fine,  so  firm  in  faith  to  the  last,  and  so  joy- 
ful in  hope  of  the  inheritance  of  God ;  it  is  something  to  learn  that  it  is 
such  a  one,  that  it  is  Josej)!),  Avho  is  dead.  There  is  comfort  in  the  ncAva 
that  Joseph  died.  "The  righteous  is  taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come." 
"  IJlessed  are  the  dead,  aa'Iio  die  in  the  Lord."     So  "  Joseph  died." 

II.  "And  all  his  brethren."  They,  too,  all  died,  and  the  vicissitudes 
of  their  family  history  came  to  an  end  in  the  silent  tomb.  That  family 
history  has  its  scenes  of  tenderness  and  of  ti'ouble,  of  pathos  and  of  passion, 
like  other  family  liislorics  before  and  since — scenes  of  similar  though  sur- 
passing interest — and  do  not  all  these  scenes  derive  a  ncAv  import  and 
new  signiticancy  from  so  solemn  an  intimation  of  death  at  the  close  ? 
The  actors  in  these  scenes — the  members  of  this  family — Avould  surely 
have  thought  and  felt  far  otherwise  than  they  did,  had  they  reflected  al- 


720  ROBERT     S.    CANDLISH. 

ways  how  soon  tne  time  would  come  when,  of  all  their  joys  and  sorrows, 
their  jealousies  and  heart-burnings,  and  rivalries,  and  resentments,  their 
feuds  and  reconciliations,  their  sins  and  their  sufterings — when  of  all 
these,  the  simple  and  summary  record  would  be,  that  "  Joseph  died,  and 
all  his  brethren."  Ah  !  how  intimately  should  this  reflection  have  knit 
them  together  in  unity  of  interest,  of  affection,  and  of  aim  !  The  tie  of 
a  common  origin  is  scarcely  stronger  or  closer  than  the  tie  of  a  common 
doom.  That  they  were  all  born  in  the  same  father's  house,  is  an  argu- 
ment of  love  that  is  greatly  heightened  and  enhanced  by  the  considera- 
tion, that  soon  it  may  and  must  be  said  of  them,  that  they  are  all  gone 
to  the  same  resting-place  of  the  tomb. 

The  graves  of  a  household,  as  they  are  dug  one  by  one,  the  breaches 
in  the  little  circle  of  home,  made  singly  and  in  detail,  as  one  and  then 
another  dear  member  is  called  away — these  are  very  impressive  to  you 
who  remain,  and  stamp  with  a  new  character  in  your  estimate  all  the  in- 
tercourse which  you  have  been  wont  to  have.  When  individuals  of  a 
family  depart,  ah  !  does  it  not  compel  the  survivors  to  review  the  past  in 
a  new  light,  and  to  think — alas  !  often  in  what  bitterness  of  soul — on 
what  terms,  and  for  what  objects  and  ends,  they  have  for  long  years  been 
living  together?  The  friend,  the  beloved  brother  who  is  gone,  has  ac- 
quired, by  his  death,  new  value  in  your  esteem — a  new  and  sacred  claim 
to  your  regard.  'Now,  for  the  first  time,  you  discover  how  dear  he  should 
have  been,  how  dear  he  was  to  your  hearts — dearer  far,  than  you  had 
ever  thought.  How  fondly  do  you  dwell  on  all  his  attractions  and 
excellences !  How  do  his  faults  and  failings  fade  away  from  your 
eyes!  And  O!  with  what  a  pang,  and  with  what  poignancy' of  grief 
does  the  wounded  soul  brood  over  any  jDassages  of  unkindness,  any  in- 
stances of  neglect !  How  frivolous  are  all  former  causes  of  misunder- 
standing, all  excuses  of  indifferences,  now  seen  to  be  !  Death  has 
stamjied  upon  them  all  a  character  of  most  absolute  insignificancy ;  and 
bitter  almost  beyond  endurance,  is  the  idea  now,  that  for  the  sake  of  such 
trifles  and  vanities  as  are  all  the  things  of  earth  that  breed  coldness  and 
suspicion  among  brethren,  you  have  in  any  degree  lost  or  wasted  the 
season  of  friendly  and  familiar  communion,  so  precious  and  so  soon  to 
close.  How  cheerfully  would  you  givf^  your  all,  if  you  could  recall  the 
lost  one  but  for  a  day,  or  for  an  hour,  that  you  might  unburden  a  heavy 
heart,  and  exchange  anew  forgiveness  and  affliction  !  "With  what  warmth 
would  you  now  meet,  with  what  fullness  of  confidence  and  love  embrace 
him,  whom,  but  yesterday,  jierhaps,  you  carelessly  overlooked  or  cruelly 
offended  !  Would  that  you  had  known  beforehand,  how  soon  and  how 
suddenly  death  was  to  claim  him  as  its  victim. 

Ah  !  then  you  would  have  better  improved  the  time  of  his  remaining 
with  you.  You  would  not  have  omitted  so  many  opportunities  of  cul- 
tivating and  enjoying  his  intimacy.  You  would  not  have  delayed  from 
day  to  day  your  purposes  of  kindness.     You  would  not  have  been  so 


THE     UNIVERSAL    DOOil.  72  [ 

readily  and  so  frequently  estranged  from  liira.  You  would  not  have 
suspected  or  envied,  or  provoked,  or  wounded  him,  as  you  have  done. 
You  would  not  have  consulted  so  constantly  your  own  selfish  inclina- 
tions, or  sought  your  own  selfish  ends,  or  indulged  your  own  selfish  pas- 
sions. And,  above  all,  you  would  not,  in  your  dealings  with  him,  have 
so  exclusively  regarded  the  things  of  time,  and  so  grievously  neglected 
the  things  of  eternity.  Ah !  you  would  not  have  met  so  often,  and  so 
often  parted,  without  one  sentence  or  one  mutual  thought  of  godliness 
interchanged  between  you. .  You  would  have  spoken  more  faithfully  ; 
you  would  have  conversed  and  communed  on  the  things  that  belong  to 
your  peace.  You  would  have  wept  over  sin  together,  and  praised  the 
love  of  the  Saviour  together,  and  prayed  together,  and  joined  together 
in  the  works  of  faith  and  labor  of  love.  Your  reserve  would  have  been 
far  more  completely  laid  aside,  and  God  would  have  been  far  more  fully 
acknowledged,  and  "  a  word  in  season"  Avould  have  been  uttered,  and 
something,  it  may  be,  perilous  to  the  soul  of  a  dying  sinner  would  have 
been  left  unsaid,  if,  when  you  last  saw  and  conversed  with  your  brother, 
you  had  had  the  slightest  idea  that  he  so  speedily  was  to  go  to  his  long 
home.  And  does  this  consideration  lose  its  force  when,  by  such  a  sen- 
tence as  that  before  us,  the  members  of  a  fimily  are  not,  as  it  Avere, 
individually,  and  one  by  one,  but  altogether,  and  in  one  sweeping  sum- 
mons, called  to  pass  from  the  shadows  of  time  to  the  dread  realities  of 
the  eternal  world  ?  Is  there  not  an  awful  voice  to  families  in  the  brief 
and  passing  record,  "  Jose})h  died,  and  all  his  brethren  ?"  With  their 
loves  and  hatreds,  their  fears  and  hopes,  their  flimily  afi:ections,  such  as 
they  were,  their  family  sins — they  are  all  gone  from  this  earth,  and  the 
place  tliat  once  knew  them  now  knows  them  no  more.  And  whither 
are  they  gone  ?  and  what  are  their  views  now,  and  what  their  feelings, 
on  the  matters  which  formed  the  subject  of  their  familiar  intercourse 
here  ?  Are  they  united  in  the  region  of  blessedness  above  ?  Are  they 
formed  again  into  a  society  in  heaven,  more  happy  and  more  stable  than 
was  their  household  on  earth — Joseph  and  his  brethren,  the  beloved 
Benjamin,  and  the  aged  Jacob — all  met  in  joy,  to  part  no  more  forever. 
Or  is  there  a  fearful  separation,  and  are  there  some  of  their  number  on 
the  other  side  of  the  great  gulf — vainly  regretting  the  time  when  they 
would  not  cast  in  their  lot  vrith  those  who  were  faithful  to  their  father's 
God  ?  We  dare  not  raise  the  curtain,  or  gaze  even  in  imagination  on 
the  mysterious  secrets  of  the  invisible  state.  It  is  enough  that  they  are 
all  dead,  and  have  left  the  many  things  about  which  they  were  careful, 
and  have  all  now  at  last  learned  the  lesson — "  One  thing  is  needful."  O 
would  to  God  that  the  anticipation  of  the  time  when,  concerning  you 
and  those  with  whom  you  are  dwelling  together  in  families,  the  short 
and  summary  record  shall  be,  that  you  are  dead  and  all  your  brethren, 
were  sufficient  to  teach  you  that  lesson  now,  ere  it  be  too  late  !  O  that 
God  himself  would  persuade  you  now,  so  to  cultivate  the  charities  of 

40 


722  ROBERT    S.    CANDLISH. 

home,  in  the  spirit  and  hope  of  heaven,  that  to  you  and  your  brethren 
it  may  be  apphed,  in  their  higliest  and  hoHest  and  happiest  sense,  the 
■words  of  David's  lamentation  over  the  father  and  son  who  fell  together 
in  the  fight — "  They  were  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  and  in  their 
death  they  were  not  divided."  So  "  Joseph  died,  and  all  his  brethren." 
III.  "  And  all  that  generation."  The  tide  of  mortality  rolls  on  in  a 
wider  stream.  It  sweeps  into  the  one  vast  ocean  of  eternity  all  the 
members  of  a  family — all  the  families  of  a  race.  The  distinctions  alike 
of  individuals  and  households  are  lost.  Every  land-mark  is  laid  low. 
The  various  dates  and  manner  of  different  departures  are  merged  and 
overwhelmed  in  the  one  universal  announcement,  that  of  all  who  at  one 
given  time  existed  on  the  earth,  not  one  remains — Joseph  is  dead,  and 
all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation.  Some  are  gone  in  tender  years 
of  childhood,  unconscious  of  life's  sins  and  sufferings — some  in  gray- 
headed  age,  weighed  down  by  many  troubles.  Some  have  perished  by 
the  hand  of  violence — some  by  natural  decay.  Here  is  one  smitten  in 
an  instant  to  the  dust — there  is  another,  the  victim  of  slow  and  tortur- 
ing disease — the  strong  man  and  the  weak — the  proud  man  and  the 
beggar — the  king  and  the  subject — some  in  prosperity,  and  nursed  by 
friends ;  others  in  dreary  and  desolate  destitution,  without  a  friend  or 
brother  to  close  the  anxious  eye.  The  thousands  have  all  met  their 
doom  from  a  thousand  different  causes,  and  in  a  coimtless  variety  of 
circumstances.  War,  famine,  pestilence,  have  had  their  innumerable 
victims.  Crime  has  carried  off,  in  one  indistinguishable  crowd,  the 
ministers  that  did  his  pleasure — the  dupes  that  fell  into  his  snares. 
Profligacy  has  slowly  preyed  on  the  pining  souls  and  bodies  of  her 
votaries.  Accident  has  suddenly  snapped  the  thread  of  life.  The 
tyrant,  mingling  men's  blood  with  their  sacrifices — the  falling  tower 
crushing  its  inmates  under  its  weight — ^fire  seizing  the  midnight  dwell- 
ing, or  the  lonely  ship  in  mid  ocean  far — the  assassin's  knife — the  poison- 
ing cup — or  the  weary  wear  and  tear  of  a  prolonged  battle  with  life's 
ills — all  have  numbered  their  triumphs  over  the  proud  race  that  lords 
it  in  this  loAver  Avorld.  Grave  after  grave  has  been  opened  and  filled  ; 
man  after  man  has  gone  the  way  of  all  living ;  new  bodies  have  been 
consigned  to  the  silent  tomb ;  new  sets  of  mourners  have  gone  about 
the  streets.  And  now,  of  the  entire  multitude  that  at  some  one  point 
of  time  occupied  the  earth,  not  one  remains  ;  all,  all  are  gone.  Various 
were  their  pursuits,  their  toils,  their  interests,  their  joys,  their  griefs — 
various  their  eventful  histories  ;  but  one  common  sentence  will  serve  as 
the  epitaph  of  all — "  Joseph  died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that 
generation."  And  another  generation  now  fills  the  stage — a  genera 
tion  that,  in  all  its  vast  circle  of  families,  can  produce  not  one  individual 
to  link  it  with  the  buried  race  on  whose  ashes  it  is  treading.  Make  for 
yourselves,  in  imagination,  the  abrupt  transition  the  historian' here  makes 
iu  his  narrative — the  sudden  leap  across  an  interval  of  years,  during 


THE     UXIVERSAL    DOOM.  723 

which  the  gradual  process  of  death  and  birth  has  been  going  on,  ever 
emptying,  but  ever  replenishing,  the  earth,  and  keeping  it  ever  full. 
Make  that  interval,  as  he  does,  an  absolute  blank — a  dreary  void — a 
great  gulf.  Let  the  sleep  or  oblivion  of  a  century  come  in  between ; 
and  as  you  awake  out  of  a  trance,  let  it  be  amid  a  throng  as  eager  and 
as  busy  as  that  which  you  left,  but  a  throng  in  which  you  see  "  not  the 
face  of  one  old  friend  rise  visaged  to  the  view."  It  is  the  same  scene 
as  before  ;  but  ah  !  how  changed.  On  a  smaller  scale,  you  have  expe- 
rienced somethaig  of  what  we  noAV  describe.  In  the  sad  season  of  be- 
reavement, how  liave  you  felt  your  pain  embittered  by  the  contrast 
between  death  reigning  in  your  heart  and  home,  and  busy  life  going  on 
all  around!  Oh!  to  step  out  from  the  darkened  cliamber  of  sickness, 
or  the  house  of  solitary  woe,  and  stand  all  at  once  in  the  glare  and  amid 
the  tumult  of  the  broad  and  busy  day — to  see  the  sun  shine  as  brightly, 
and  the  green  earth  smile  as  gladly,  and  all  nature  rejoice  as  gloriously 
as  ever,  while  all  to  you  is  a  blank — to  hear  the  concord  of  sweet  voices 
mocking  your  desolation — to  mix  Avith  dreary  heart  in  the  unsympa- 
thizing  crowd — it  is  enough  often  to  turn  distress  into  distraction,  and 
make  you  loathe  the  light  and  life  that  so  offend  your  sadness  !  In  the 
prospect,  too,  of  your  own  departure,  does  not  this  thought  form  an 
element  of  the  dreariness  of  death,  that  when  you  are  gone,  and  laid  in 
the  silent  tomb,  others  will  arise  that  knew^  not  you  ?  Your  'emoval 
will  scarce  occasion  even  a  momentary  interruj^tion  in  Aie  onward 
course  and  incessant  hurry  of  aftairs,  and  your  loss  will  be  but  as  that 
of  a  drop  of  water  from  the  tide  that  rolls  on  in  its  career  as  mighty 
and  as  majestical  as  ever. 

But  here,  it  is  a  whole  generation,  with  all  its  families,  that  is  engulfed 
in  one  unmeasured  tomb !  And  lo !  the  earth  is  still  all  astir  with  the 
same  activities,  all  gay  with  the  same  pomps  and  pageantries,  all 
engrossed  with  the  same  vanities  and  follies ;  and  alas  !  the  same  sins 
also,  tliat  have  been  beguiling  and  disappointing  the  successive  races  of 
its  inhabitants  since  the  world  began  ! 

Is  there  no  moral  in  the  shadow  which  this  summary  and  gigantic 
burial  of  a  W'hole  generation,  in  one  single  brief  text,  casts  upon  all  these 
things — on  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  cares,  the  toils,  the  pleasures  of 
time — as  the  gates  of  eternity  open  to  shut  in  from  our  view,  with  a 
single  sweep,  the  millions  that  once  used  them  as  we  are  using  them 
now  ? 

What  are  they  all,  with  the  tears  or  smiles  they  caused,  to  those  mil- 
lions to  whom  but  now  they  seemed  to  be  every  thing  ?  What  will  they 
all  be  to  us,  w^hen  of  each  one  of  us,  as  of  Joseph,  the  simple  record  shall 
be,  that  he  died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation  ?  This 
burial  of  a  whole  generation  !  the  individual,  the  family,  and  the  entire 
mass  of  life,  mingled  in  one  common  tomb  !  surely  it  is  a  solemn  thought. 
It  appeals  to  our  natural  sensibility  ;  does  it  not  appeal  also  to  our  spir. 


72J:  ROBERT    S.    CANDLISH. 

itual  apprehension?  For  natural  sensibility  is  but  little  trustworthy 
Easily  moved  by  such  musings,  it  is  easily  composed — violent  emotion 
and  frivolous  apathy  being  the  extremes  between  which  it  vacillates  and 
vibrates.  To  carry  and  command  its  sympathies  for  the  moment  is  an 
insig-nificant  and  unworthy  triumi^h.  But  faith  finds  matter  of  deeper 
and  moi-e  lasting  impression  here.  Death  is  the  great  divider  ;  it  severs 
families  and  cuts  friendships  asunder — breaking  closest  ties,  and  causing 
the  most  compact  associations  to  fall  to  pieces.  Coming  as  it  does  upon 
the  race  of  men,  one  by  one — singling  out  individually,  one  after  another, 
its  successive  prey — it  'resolves  each  hill  or  mountain  into  its  constituent 
grains,  taking  separate  account  of  every  one  of  them,  as  separately  it 
draws  them  into  its  own  insatiable  jaws.  But  death  is  the  great  uniter, 
too :  separating  for  a  time,  it  brings  all  together  at  last.  The  church- 
yard opens  its  graves  to  part  dearest  brethren  and  friends ;  but  soon  it 
opens  them  again,  to  mix  their  kindred  ashes  in  one  common  dust. 

Is  the  union,  however,  that  death  occasions,  real,  substantial,  endur- 
ing? 

"  Joseph  died,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation."  Death 
passed  upon  them  all,  for  they  all  had  sinned.  It  is  the  common  lot — the 
general  history — the  universal  characteristic. 

And  there  is  another  common  lot — another  general  history — another 
universal  characteristic:  "After  death,  the  judgment."  Joseph  rises 
again,  and  all  his  brethren,  and  all  that  generation  ;  and  they  all  stand 
before  the  judgment-seat.  There  is  union  then  :  the  small  and  the  great 
are  there — the  servant  and  his  master — all  are  brought  together ;  but 
for  what  ?  And  for  how  long  ?  "  The  wicked  shall  go  away  into  ever- 
lasting j)unishment,  but  the  righteous  into  life  eternal." 

What  a  solemn  contrast  have  we  here  !  Death  unites  after  sej^ara- 
tion ;  the  judgment  l^nites  in  order  to  separate.  Death,  closing  the 
drama  of  time,  lets  the  curtain  fall  upon  its  whole  scenery  and  all  its 
actors  ;  the  judgment,  opening  the  drama  of  eternity,  discloses  scenery 
and  actors  once  more  entire.  All  die  ;  all  are  judged.  The  two  events 
happen  alike  to  all.  And  both  are  near;  for  the  tune  is  short — ^the 
Lord  is  at  hand. 

But  before  death,  before  the  judgment,  is  the  gospel  freely  preached 
to  all ;  and  a  voice  is  heard  :  "  Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock ; 
if  any  man  open  imto  me,  I  will  come  in  unto  him,  and  sup  with  him, 
and  he  with  me."  Let  this  feast  of  love  be  begun  in  heart  after  heart, 
as  one  by  one,  sinners  die  with  Christ  unto  sin,  and  live  with  him  unto 
God.  And  when  individuals,  families,  generations,  are  separated,  and 
united,  to  be  separated  again,  may  it  be  our  privilege  to  meet  at  the 
marriage-supper  of  the  Lamb,  beyond  which  there  is  no*  parting  any 
more  forever. 


1)  IbCOURSE    LI. 

JAMES    HAMILTON,    D.D.,    F.L.S. 

The  "  Moore  of  the  Pulpit,"  as  Dr.  Hamilton  has  been  called,  was  born  about  the 
year  1810,  at  Strathaven,  Scotland,  where  his  father  was  parish  clergyman,  and  a 
man  of  considerable  distinction.  He  was  graduated  at  the  University  of  Glasgow  in 
the  year  1829,  and  has  now  been  pastor  of  the  National  Scotch  Church,  Eegent's 
Square,  London,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  years.  Dr.  Hamilton  is  widely  known  in 
this  country,  as  well  as  beyond  the  Atlantic,  from  his  excellent  and  popular  works ; 
such  as  "  Life  in  Earnest;"  "  Harp  on  the  Willows;"  "Happy  Home;"  '"Life  of 
Lady  Colquhoun  ;"  "  Mount  of  Ohves ;"  "  The  Royal  Preacher,"  etc.  He  is  besides 
possessed  of  remarkable  pulpit  talents,  which  attract  many  to  his  ministry.  "We 
copy  the  remarks  of  a  frequent  hearer : 

"  He  is  the  most  poetical  of  preachers.     Like  the  person  described  in  Hudibras, 


-he  scarce  can  ope 


His  mouth,  but  out  there  flies  a  trope.'  " 

He  possesses  a  vivid  imagination,  a  brilliant  fimcy,  and  a  sparkling  phraseology. 
His  sentences  are  strings  of  pearls,  and  whatever  subject  he  touches,  he  invariably 
adorns.  His  affluence  of  imagery  is  surprising.  To  illustrate  some  particular  Scrip- 
ture, he  will  lay  science,  art,  and  natural  history  under  contribution.  But  plenteous 
as  are  the  flowers  of  eloquence,  their  sweetness  does  not  cloy.  And  withal,  a 
spirit  of  earnest  piety  pervades  the  discourse.  There  is  one  drawback — the  broad 
Scotch  accent  in  which  it  is  delivered." 

Some  of  his  views  of  preaching  are  brought  out  in  the  Introduction  to  his 
"  Life  in  Earnest :"  '*  For  the  directness  of  the  style  and  the  plainness  of  the  illus- 
trations, I  do  not  apologize.  They  are  not  more  a  natural  propensity  than  the 
result  of  conscientious  conviction ;  for  as  I  can  not  be  persuaded  that,  in  matters 
of  taste,  any  thing  is  eloquent  which  does  not  answer  the  end  in  view,  nor  that 
in  theology  any  thing  is  sublime  Avhich  is  not  scriptural;  so  I  can  not  think  that, 
in  preaching,  any  thing  is  out  of  place  which  puts  the  truth  in  its  proper  place — 
in  the  memory  and  the  hearts  of  the  hearers — nor  that  any  thing  is  mean  which 
can  trace  its  pedigree  back  to  the  Mount  of  Beatitudes." 

The  sermon  which  is  here  given  will  connncnd  itself  as  justifying,  in  some 
measure,  the  high  award  of  merit  assigned  to  the  preacher's  abilities.  We  are 
sorry  to  add,  that  Dr.  Hamilton  has  been  for  some  time  in  ill  health;  and  that  his 
constitution,  at  best  not  firm,  seems  of  late  -somewhat  broken. 


726  JAMES    HAMILTON. 

THE  PARTING   PROMISE,  AKD   THE  PRESENT   SAVIOXHl 

"  And,  lo,  I  am  with  you  always,  even  to  the  end  of  the  world." — Matt.,  sxviii.  20. 

Theke  are  some  plants  which  grow  right  up — erect  in  their  own 
sturdy  self-sufficiency ;  and  there  are  some  feeble  ones  which  take  hold 
with  their  hands  and  clasp  and  climb.  The  soul  of  man  is  like  these 
last.  Even  in  his  best  estate  he  was  not  meant  to  grow  insulated  and 
stand  alone.  He  is  not  strong  enough  for  that.  He  has  not  within  him- 
self resources  sufficient  to  fill  himself.  He  is  not  fit  to  be  his  own  all-in- 
all.  The  make  of  lias  mind  is  an  out-going,  exploring,  petitionary  make. 
The  soul  of  man  is  a  clasping,  clinging  soul,  seeking  to  something  over 
which  it  can  spread  itself,  and  by  means  of  which  it  can  support  itself. 
And  just  as  in  a  neglected  garden  you  may  see  the  poor  creepers  making- 
shift  to  sustain  themselves  as  best  they  can  ;  one  convolvolus  t-wasting 
round  another,  and  both  draggling  on  the  ground ;  a  clematis  leaning  on 
the  door  which  will  by  and  by  open  and  let  the  whole  mass  fill  down  ; 
a  vine  or  a  passion-flower  wreathing  round  a  prop  which  all  the  while 
is  poisoning  it ;  so  in  this  fallen  world  it  is  mournful  to  see  the  efforts 
which  human  souls  are  making  to  get  some  efficient  object  to  lean  upon 
and  twine  around.  One  clasps  a  glistening  prop,  and  it  poisons  him. 
The  love  of  money  blasts  his  soul,  and  it  hangs  round  its  self-chosen  stay 
a  blighted,  withered  thing.  Another  spreads  himself  more  amply  over 
a  broad  surface  of  creature  comfort — a  snug  dwelling,  and  a  Avell-fur- 
nished  library,  and  a  pleasant  neighborhood,  with  the  command  of  every 
thing  that  heart  can  wish,  and  a  steady  income — but  death  opens  the 
door,  and,  with  nothing  but  vacancy  to  lean  upon,  he  falls  over  on  the 
other  side  all  helpless  and  dejected.  And  a  still  greater  numbei-,  grop- 
ing about  along  the  road,  clutch  to  one  another,  and  intertwine  their 
tendrils  mutually,  and  by  forming  friendships  and  congenial  intimacies, 
and  close  relations,  tiy  to  satisfy  their  leaning  loving  nature  in  this  way. 
But  it  answers  little  end.  The  make  of  man's  soul  is  upward,  and  one 
climber  can  not  lift  another  ofi"  the  ground.  And  the  gro\nh  of  man's 
soul  is  luxuriant,  and  that  growth  must  be  stifled,  checked,  and  scanty, 
if  he  have  no  larger  space  over  which  to  diftuse  his  asjnrations,  his  afiec- 
tions,  and  his  eftbrts,  than  the  surface  of  a  fellow-creature's  soul.  Bui, 
weedy  as  this  world-garden  is,  the  Tree  of  Life  still  grows  in  the  midst 
of  it — erect  in  his  own  omnipotent  self-sufficiency,  and  inviting  every 
weary  straggling  soul  to  lay  hold  of  his  everlasting  strength,  and  expa- 
tiate upward  along  the  infinite  ramifications  of  his  endless  excellences 
and  all-inviting  love. 

God  has  formed  the  soul  of  man  of  a  leaning,  dependent  make ;  and 
for  the  healthy  growth  and  joyful  development  of  that  soul,  it  is  essential 
that  he  should  have  some  object  far  higher  and  nobler  than  himself  to 


THE    PARTING    PROMISE.  727 

dispread  his  desires  and  delights  upon.  That  object  is  revealed  in  the 
gospel.  That  ohject  is  Immanuel.  His  divinity  is  the  almighty  prop — 
able  to  sustain  the  adhering  soul,  so  that  it  shall  never  perish  nor  come 
into  condemnation — the  omnipotent  support  which  bears  the  clinging 
spirit  loftily  and  securely,  so  that  the  whirling  temptations  which  vex  it 
can  not  rend  it  from  the  tree  of  life,  and  that,  the  muddy  plash,  which 
soils  and  beats  into  the  earth  its  sprawling  neighbors,  can  not  tarnish  the 
verdant  serenity  and  limpid  glories  of  its  flowering  head.  And  just  as 
his  divine  strength  is  the  omni}iotent  prop  of  the  adhering  soul,  so  his 
divhie  resources  and  his  human  sympathy  make  him  the  all-sufiicient  ob- 
ject, over  which  each  emotion  and  each  desire  of  regenerate  humanity 
may  boundlessly  diftuse  itself.  And  however  delicate  your  feelings,  how- 
ever eager  your  affections,  and  however  multitudinous  the  necessities 
of  your  intricate  nature,  there  is  that  in  this  heavenly  friend  which 
meets  them  every  one.  There  are  in  his  unimaginable  compassions,  and 
in  his  benignant  fellow-feelings,  holds  suflicient  for  every  craving  tendril 
and  every  eager  clasper  of  the  human  heart,  to  fix  upon  and  wreath 
around. 

This  is  Avhat  the  gospel  does.  It  just  offers  you  a  friend,  who  can  both 
save  and  satisfy  your  soul.  Jesus,  the  Son  of  God,  God  manifest  in  flesh, 
Immanuel,  the  gospel  ofiers  this  friend  to  you — notjiiore  tender  than  he 
is-hohv  not  more  divine  than  he  is  human.  Instead  of  clutching  to  props 
which  can  not  elevate  you,  or  if  they  do  bear  you  up  for  a  moment,  must 
soon  be  withdrawn  again — the  gospel  bids  you  grow  against  the  tree  of 
life,  and  just  as  you  grow  up  into  Christ,  you  will  g-row  up  into  holiness 
and  into  happiness.  And  if  you  have  not  yet  found  an  object  to  your 
heart's  content — if  you  feel  that  thei-e  is  still  something  wrong  with  you 
—that  you  are  neither  leading  the  life  which  you  would  like  to  lead,  nor 
enjoying  the  comfort  which  you  think  might  be  somehow  got ;  be  ad- 
vised. Take  the  Lord  Jesus  for  your  friend.  lie  is  one  in  whom  you 
will  find  no  flaw.  He  is  one  in  whom — if  you  really  get  acquainted  ^ith 
him — you  will  never  weary ;  and  one,  who,  if  once  you  really  go  to  him, 
will  never  weary  of  you.  He  is  a  friend  of  whom  no  one  had  ever  rea- 
son to  complain — a  friend  who  has  done  so  much  for  you  already,  that 
he  would  have  done  enough  even  though  he  were  never  to  do  any  more  ; 
who  is  so  generous,  that  his  thoughts  are  all  occupied  with  the  great 
things  he  designs  to  do — a  friend  who  is  singularly  kind  and  considerate, 
for  "  he  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother" — a  friend  who  does  not  vary, 
"for  he  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever" — and,  best  of  all,  a 
friend  who  is  never  far  away,  for  "  lo,  I  am  with  you  alway." 

My  dear  friends — there  are  many  reasons  why  men  do  not  love  the 
Lord  Jesus.  Some  feel  no  need  of  him.  Tiiey  understand  that  he  is  a 
Saviour  ;  but  a  Saviour  is  what  they  do  not  desire.  Others  have  no  con- 
geniality with  him.  They  understand  that  his  character  is  divine — that 
his  love  of  holiness  is  as  intense  as  his  hatred  of  ini(]uity — and  as  they 


728  JAMES    HAMILTON. 

love  the  -world,  and  love  their  own  way,  and  love  the  pleasures  of  sin,  they 
can  not  love  the  Lord  Jesus.  But  the  hearts  of  some  toward  Christ  are 
cold  for  other  reasons.  Their  conceptions  regarding  him  are  sufficiently 
vague  and  dim  ;  but  so  far  as  they  can  be  reduced  to  any  thing  definite, 
■we  might  say  that  they  do  not  love  the  Lord  Jesus,  because  they  habit- 
ually think  of  him  as  a  dead  Saviour,  or  a  Saviour  different  from  what  he 
•was,  or  a  distant  Saviour — a  Saviour  far  away. 

I.  Some  look  on  the  Lord  Jesus  as  dead.  They  read  his  history  as  of 
one  who  lived  long  ago,  but  who  is  not  living  now.  They  read  Matthew's 
narrative,  or  John's,  and  they  are  interested — for  the  moment  moved. 
They  feel  that  these  words  are  very  beautiful — that  this  stroke  of  kin'3- 
ness  or  tenderness  was  very  touching — that  that  interposition  was  very 
surprising.  They  feel  that  the  whole  history  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  is  very 
affecting;  and,  just  as  they  may  have  wept  at  the  death  of  Socrates,  or 
when  they  read  the  martyrdom  of  the  saints  at  Lyons,  so  they  may 
have  felt  for  him  who  had  not  the  fox's  hole — they  may  have  Avept  when 
they  saw  the  son  of  Mary  hanging  on  the  tree.  And,  if  they  were  visit- 
uig  Palestine,  they  might  linger  over  many  a  silent  spot  with  a  solemn 
impression.  "  Is  this  the  grassy  mount  where  he  preached  that  sermon  ? 
Yon  lake,  rippling  round  its  pebbly  margin,  is  it  the  one  he  so  often 
crossed  ?  And  are  these  the  very  rocks  which  echoed  the  strong  crying 
of  his  midnight  prayers  ?"  But  there  they  feel  as  if  it  ended.  They 
look  on  it  all  as  a  tale  that  is  past.  They  take  for  granted  that  it  all 
closed  on  Calvary — that  the  cross  was  the  conclusion  of  that  life — the 
most  wonderful  life  that  the  world  ever  saw — but  stUl  its  conclusion.  To 
them  Christ  is  dead,  not  living  ;  and  therefore  no  wonder  that  they  do 
not  love  him.  You  may  revere  the  character  of  those  long  ago  departed  ; 
but  love  is  an  affection  reserved  for  the  living.  You  will  only  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  when  you  come  to  believe  in  him  as  the  living  Saviour — one 
who  was  once  dead,  but  who,  once  dead,  dieth  no  more.  Jesus  lives. 
He  was  not  more  alive  when  he  sat  at  Jacob's  well  than  he  is  alive  at 
this  moment.  He  was  not  more  alive  when  he  poured  the  water  into  the 
basin  and  washed  their  feet — not  more  alive  when  he  took  the  cup  and 
made  a  beginning  of  the  remembrance-feast — -not  more  alive  when  he 
rose  from  table  and  sang  the  parting  hymn,  and  Avent  out  among  them 
to  the  Mount  of  Olives,  than  he  is  living  now.  The  Lord  Jesus  lives. 
He  is  alive  for  evermore. 

II.  Some  do  not  love  the  Lord  Jesus  because  they  loot  onliim  as  an 
altered  Saviour — as  different  now  from  what  he  once  was.  Earthly 
friends  are  apt  to  change,  and  if  they  do  not  change,  they  die.  When  a 
visitor  comes  from  a  foreign  land  where  you  once  sojourned,  you  ask 
eagerly  about  the  different  acquaintances  you  once  had  there.  "And 
did  you  see  such  a  one  ?"  "Yes  ;  but  you  would  not  know  him,  he  is 
so  greatly  altered."  "  Did  he  remember  me  ?"  "  Well,  I  rather  think 
he  was  asking  for  you,  but  I  can  not  be  very  sure.     He  has  got  other 


THE     PARTING     PROMISE.  729 

things  to  occupy  his  thoughts  since  you  and  he  Avere  wont  to  meet." 
"  And  what  of  such  another  ?"  "Ah  times  are  sadly  changed  with  him. 
You  would  be  sorry  to  see  hiiu  now.  I  believe  he  has  the  same  kind 
heart  as  ever  ;  but  he  has  it  not  in  his  power  to  show  it  as  he  used  to  do  " 
"  And  our  old  neighbor,  who  lived  next  door  ?"  "  Your  old  neighbor  ? 
dear  good  man,  he  is  safe  in  Abraham's  bosom.  I  found  his  house  shut 
up,  and  all  his  family  gone  away."  And  it  is  very  seldom,  after  years 
of  absence,  that  you  hear  of  one  whose  outward  circumstances  are  no- 
wise different  from  what  they  were,  and  rarer  still  to  hoar  of  one  whose 
dispositions  are  quite  unchanged. 

However,  one  there  is  who  wears  our  nature,  but  is  not  liable  to  the  / 
variations  of  mortality.  "  Jesus_Christ_is_the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  ( 
and  forever."  The  concurring  testimony  of  those  who  have  seen  him 
from  time  to  time,  along  a  reach  of  some  thousand  years,  goes  to  prove 
that  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  the  friend  of  sinners,  can  not  change.  He 
who  talked  with  our  first  parents  in  the  cool  of  the  day  is  the  same  holy, 
yet  condescending  one  that  he  ever  was,  and  loveth  righteousness,  and 
hateth  iniquity,  as  much  as  when  the  first  sinners  ran  away  from  his  i>ure 
and  sin-repelling  presence.  Tlie  heavenly  high  priest  is  still  as  accessible  - 
to  prayer,  and  as  ready  to  yield  to  his  people's  entreaty,  as  when  he  six 
times  conceded  to  Abraham's  intercession.  The  God  of  Bethel  is  still 
the  faithful  keeper  of  his  people  and  their  families,  as  when  he  heard 
Jacob  in  the  day  of  his  distress,  and  was  with  him  in  the  way  which  he 
went.*  And  any  thing  which  has  been  heard  of  him  since  he  went  back 
to  his  glory,  goes  to  prove  that  he  is  the  same  Saviour  now  as  during 
the  continuous  years  he  sojourned  with  us. 

It  is  true,  there  are  some  circumstantial  differences,  but  no  intrinsic 
change.  There  is  more  of  the  oil  of  gladness  on  him  than  when  the 
Father  first  anointed  him,  and  crowns  are  on  his  head  which  have  been 
planted  there  since  the  work  given  him  to  do  was  finished.  His  satis- 
factions are  fuller,  as  he  continues  to  see  the  travail  of  his  soul ;  and, 
doubtless,  there  are  outbursts  of  his  glory  yet  to  come,  more  dazzling 
than  any  which  have  yet  astonished  heaven.  But  still  the  mind  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  is  the  same  as  it  ever  was  ;  and  when  the  last  saint  sits  down 
beside  him  on  his  hrone — when  the  fullness  of  "  It  is  finished"  comes  to 
be  understood,  and  word  is  brought  to  the  many  mansions  that  Death  is 
dead,  and  that  Time  is  now  no  more — the  redeemed,  as  they  bow  beneath 
that  exceeding  glory,  will  feel  that  it  is  still  the  glory  of  the  Lamb  that  . 
was  slain — the  glory  of  the  friend  who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother.      / 

III.  But  the  feelings  of  others  toward  the  Lord  Jesus  are  vague  and 
comfortless,  because  they  think  of  him  as  a  distant  Saviour — a  Saviour 
far  away.  The  Lord  Jesus  is  omnipresent.  He  is  not  fiir  from  any  one 
of  us.  His  flame-briglit  eye  follows  the  Sabbath-breaker  through  the 
fields,  and  is  on  the  drunkard  as  he  reels  into  the  tavern.  It  reads  the 
*  Gen.,  XXXV.  3. 


730  JAMES    HAMILTON". 

thought  of  the  liar  as  he  forges  his  flilsehoocl,  and  looks  through  and 
through  that  heart  which  is  full  of  its  corrupt  imaginings.  It  notices 
the  woi-klly  professor  at  the  communion-table,  and  sees  the  unbeliever 
tumbling,  night  after  night,  into  his  prayerless  bed.  But  though  the 
Lord  Jesus  be  everywhere  present,  he  is  present  Avith  his  own  people  in 
a  peculiar  relation.  He  is  with  them  as  a  Saviour,  a  shepherd,  a  friend. 
His  divine  presence  fills  immensity ;  but  his  gracious  and  reconciled 
presence — his  loving  and  interested  presence — his  Saviour-presence — is 
exclusively  with  his  own.  So  constantly  is  the  Lord  Jesus  present  with 
his  people  that,  in  order  to  get  the  full  good  of  it,  they  have  only  to  re- 
member the  fact.  From  the  moment  that  a  man  becomes  a  disciple  o^ 
Christ,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  always"  becomes  a  promise  to  that  man-  -a 
promise,  the  performance  of  which  is  never  for  a  moment  suspended  by 
the  Saviour ;  but  the  existence  of  which  is  often  forgot  by  the  disciple. 
But,  forgotten  or  remembered,  it  is  every  moment  true  ;  and,  to  enjoy 
the  full  blessedness  of  this  assurance,  you  have  only  to  remember,  to 
realize  it.  Sometimes,  without  any  effort  on  your  part,  the  conviction 
will  dawn  gently,  or  flash  brightly,  on  the  mind,  and  you  will  feel  for  a 
moment  that  Jesus  is  with  you.  But  why  not  feel  it  always  '?  for  it  is 
always  equally  true. 

"  A  glance  from  heaven,  with  sweet  effect, 
Sometimes  my  pensive  spirit  clieers ; 
But  ere  I  can  my  thoughts  collect, 
As  suddenly  it  disappears. 

"  So  lightning  in  the  gloom  of  night 
Affords  a  momentary  day ; 
Disclosing  objects  full  in  sight, 

Which,  soon  as  seen,  are  snatched  away 

"  The  lightning's  flash  did  not  create 
The  opening  prospects  it  revealed ; 
But  only  showed  the  real  state 

Of  what  the  darkness  had  coccealed."* 

These  lightning-bursts,  these  momentary  gleams,  are  just  the  hints  of 
truth  Avhich  the  Holy  Spirit  darts  into  the  mind  from  time  to  time, 
revealing  matters  as  they  really  are.  But  Ave  ought  to  recollect,  that 
even  during  the  dark  the  solid  landscape  has  not  vanished,  but  is  only 
hid.  And  even  so,  when  Christ's  sensible  presence  is  Avithdrawn,  we 
should  remember  that  he  is  near  as  ever,  and  it  is  the  beUever's  wisdom 
to  go  on  in  the  joyful  strength  of  the  assurance,  "  Lo,  I  am  AA^ith  you." 

Let  me  mention  some  benefits  of  Christ's  perpetual  presence  with  his 
people,  especially  AA'hen  that  presence  is  recollected  and  realized. 

1,  It  is  sanctifying.  The  « ompany  of  an  earthly  friend  is  often  in- 
fluential on  character.  If  he  be  one  of  very  pure  and  lofty  mind,  and, 
*  Newton. 


THE     PARTING    PROMISE. 


731 


withal,  one  who  has  gained  an  ascendancy  over  yoiu"  own  soul,  his  very 
presence  is  a  talisman.     If  an  angry  stform  be  gathering  in  your  bosom 
or   lowei'ing   in   your   countenance,   the   unexpected    sunshine   of   his 
heavenly  aspect  will  disperse  it  all  again.   If  mean  or  unworthy  thoughts 
were  creeping  into  your  mind,  the  interruption  of  his  noble  presence 
will  chase  them  all  away.   If  you  are  on  the  point  of  declining  some  dif- 
ficult enterprise,  or  evading  some  incumbent  duty,  the  glance  of  his 
remonstrating  eye  will  at  once  shame  away  your  indolence  or  cowardice, 
and  make  you  up  and  doing.     So  the  Saviour's  recollected  presence  is,a 
constant  reproof  and  a  ceaseless  incentive  to  an  affectionate  disciple,    Is^ 
he  provoked  ?     Is  his  temper  ruffled  ?     Is  he  about  to  come  out  with  i 
some  sharp  or  cutting  sarcasm,  or  to  deal  the  indignant  blow  ?     One  look  ) 
from  the  Lamb  of  God  will  calm  his  spirit — will  cool  the  flush  of  fury ' 
in  his  burning  cheek — will  make  his  swelling  heart  beat  softly.      Are  , 
you  tempted  ?     Do  evil   thoughts  arise  in   your  heart  ?     One  glance 
from  those  holy  eyes  can  chase  away  a  whole  legion  of  devils,  and  ban- 
ish back  into  the  pit  each  foul  suggestion.     Are  you  seized  with  a  lazy  / 
or  selfish  fit  ?     Are  you  wearying  of  work  which  for  some  time  you  \ 
were  doing,  or  refusing  work  which  God  is  now  giving  you  to  do  ?    Are 
you  angry  at  an  aflliction,  or  averse  to  a  given  task  ?     Lo  !  be  puts  to     ; 
his  hand,  and  offers  to  help  you  with  this  great  cross,  and  you  observe    / 
that  it  is  a  pierced  hand ;  and  he  offers  to  go  before  and  show  you  the  t 
way,  and  you  notice  that  the  footprints  are  bleeding,  and  it  wounds  you  i 
to  think  that  you  should  have  needed  such  an  admonition.    Or  you  have  / 
just  come  away  from  a  scene  of  guilt — from  a  company  where  you  have  / 
denied  him — where  you  have  just  been  saying  by  your  conduct,  by  your  y 
silence,  or  your  words,  "  I  know  not  the  man  ;"  and  as  you  encounter  j 
the  eye  of  Jesus,  whom  they  are  leading  away  to  crucify,  O,  Peter,  do/ 
you  not  go  forth  and  weep  bitterly  ? 

2.  Christ's  presence  is  sustaining.  The  apostles  were  wonderfully 
calm  and  collected  men.  People,  considering  Avhat  they  were,  many  of 
them  unlearned  and  ignorant,  were  amazed  at  their  dignified  composure 
in  most  difficult  circumstances.  It  was  scarcely  possible  to  alarm  or  agi- 
tate them.  When  brought  before  kings  and  rulers,  it  was  usually  their 
judges  who  trembled,  but  they  themselves  were  tranquil.  And  Paul 
tells  us  the  secret  oHit.  When  he  himself  was  brought  before  Caesar,  it 
was  an  agitating  occasion.  Nero  was  a  cruel  prince,  and  the  people 
looked  on  his  palace  much  as  they  would  have  looked  on  a  leopard's 
den.  An  order  has  arrived  to  bring  the  Galilean  prisoner  to  the  em- 
pei-or's  judgment-hall.  The  apostle  had  just  time  to  warn  a  few  friends, 
and  like  enough  they  came  and  condoled  with  him ;  but  they  thought 
it  pnulent  not  to  go  Avith  him  into  court.  It  might  compromise  their 
own  safety,  and  it  could  do  him  no  effectual  good  ;  and  he  did  not  urge 
them.  The  soldiers  arrived,  and  he  went  cheerily  with  them — the  old 
weather-beaten  man — without  his  cloak,  foi  he  had  left  it  at  Troas; 


732  JAMES    HAMILTON. 

without  his  friends,  for  he  had  left  them  behind  at  his  own  hired  house — 
as  forlorn  as  ever  prisoner  stood  before  Caesar.  And  how  was  it  that  the 
infirm  old  man  passed,  with  so  serene  a  look,  the  clashing  swords  and 

,;  scowling  sentries  at  the  palace-front  ?  How  was  it  that  he  had  trod  the 
gloomy  gateway  with  a  step  so  full  of  merry  innocence  and  martyr-zeal, 
and  never  noticed  Nero's  lions  snuffling  and  howling  in  their  hungry 
den  ?  And  how  was  it  that  in  the  dim  and  dangerous  presence-chamber, 
where  cruelty  sat  upon  the  throne  of  luxury — how  was  it  that,  with  that 
wolf  upon  the  judgment-seat  and  those  bloodhounds  all  around  him — 
with  none  but  pagans  present,  and  not  one  believing  friend  to  bear  thee 
company — how  was  it,  O  Paul !  that  in  such  an  hour  of  peiil,  instead  of 
pleading  not  guilty,  and  falling  down  on  suppliant  knees,  thou  didst  com- 
mit the  very  crime  they  charged  against  thee — -the  crjiae,  of  loyalty  to 
Jesus — and  urge  Christ's  claims  on  Cajsar  ?  Why  the  secret  of  this 
strange  courage  Avas,  "  At  my  first  answer  no  man  stood  with  me,  but 
all  forsook  me.  Notwithstanding,  the  Lord  stood  Avith  me  and  strength- 
ened me,  that  by  me  the  preaching  might  be  fully  known,  and  that  all 
the  Gentiles  might  hear ;  and  I  Avas  delivered  out  of  the  mouth  of  the 
lion." 

And  you,  my  friends,  will  all  be  brought  into  agitating  circumstances^ 
It  is  not  likely  that  it  will  be  said  to  you,  "  Fear  not,  for  thou  must  stand 
before  Caesar."  But  you  may  be  arraigned  before  terrible  tribunals— 
the  tribunal  of  public  opinion — the  tribunal  of  private  afiection — the 
tribunal  of  worldly  interest — for  Christ's  name's  sake.  From  time  to 
time  you  may  be  constrained  to  pass  through  ordeals  which  Avill  make 
you  understand  how  Paul  felt  when  passing  in  at  the  palace-gate. 
When  called  to  give  your  testimony  for  Christ,  the  flesh  may  be  Aveak, 
and  the  Avilling  word  may  be  like  to  expire  in  your  choking  utterance. 
Worldly  Avisdom  may  beckon  you  back,  and,  like  Paul's  fearful  friends, 
cautious  or  carnal  Christians  may  refuse  to  suppoit  you.  It  is  not  Nero's 
hall,  but  a  quiet  parlor  you  are  entering ;  but  before  you  come  out  again 
you  may  be  a  poor  man,  or  a  friendless  one.  The  Yes  or  JVo  of  one  faith- 
ful moment  may  have  spurned  the  ladder  of  promotion  from  under  your 
feet,  and  dashed  your  brightest  hopes  on  this  side  the  grave.  Or,  by  the 
time  the  letter  you  are  now  penning  is  closed  and  sealed  and  posted,  and 
the  sinful  assent,  or  the  compromising  proposal,  or  the  resolute  refusal  is 
written,  the  Lord  Jesus  A\'ill  have  said,  "  I  know  thy  Avorks,  that  thou 
hast  a  name  that  thou  livest  and  art  dead ;"  or,  "  I  knoAv  thy  Avorks, 
that  thou  art  neither  cold  nor  hot ;"  or,  "I  know  thy  AVorks  ;  behold,  I 
have  set  before  thee  an  open  door,  and  no  man  can  shut  it ;  for  thou  hast 

^  a  little  strength,  and  hast  kept  my  Avord,  and  hast  not  denied  my  name. 
I  will  also  keep  thee."  In  such  fiery  trials  of  love  and  fidelity  there  is 
nothing  so  sure  to  overcome  as  the  recollected  presence  of  "  Lo  I  am 
with  you."  And  O  !  it  is  sweeter,  like  the  three  holy  children,  to  pace 
up  and  down  beneath  the  furnace's  flaming  vault,  arm  in  arm  Avith  the  Son 


THE     TARTIXG    PROMISE.  733 

of  man,  than  to  tread  the  green  pastures  of  an  eartlily  promotion  or  a 
carnal  tranquillity  purchased  by  the  denial  of  Jesus,  and  so  with  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb. 

3.  Comforting.  You  have  noticed  the  difference  in  traveling  the 
same  road  solitary  and  in  pleasant  company.  "  What !  we  are  not  here 
already !  It  takes  three  hours  to  do  it,  and  we  have  not  been  half  that 
time.  Well,  I  could  not  have  believed  it ;  but  then  I  never  before  trav- 
eled it  with  you."  No  doubt  Cleopas  and  his  comrade  used  to  think  the 
road  from  Jerusalem  to  Emmaus  long  enough,  and  were  very  glad  when  ' 
they  reached  the  fiftieth  furlong,  But  that  evening  when  the  stranger  ', 
from  Jerusalem  joined  them,  they  grudged  every  way-mark  which  they  ; 
passed  ;  and  as  in  the  progress  of  his  expositions  Moses  and  all  the 
prophets  beamed  with  light  from  heaven,  and  their  own  hearts  glowed^ 
Avarmer,  they  would  fain  have  counted  the  mile-stones  back  again. 
"  How  vexing  !  This  is  Emmaus ;  but  you  must  not  go  on.  '  Abide 
with  us,  for  the  day  is  far  spent.'  "  Any  road  Avhich  you  travel  solitary 
is  long  enough,  and  any  stage  of  life's  journey  AA'here  no  one  is  with  you, 
will  be  dreary  and  desolate.  But  you  need  have  no  such  companionless 
stages — no  such  cheerless  journeys.  If  you  be  a  disciple,  the  Lord  Jesus 
always  is  with  you.  And  whether  they  be  the  silent  weeks  which  you 
spend  in  search  of  health  in  some  far  away  and  strange-looking  place,  or 
the  long  voyage  in  the  sea-roaming  ship,  or  the  shorter  journey  in  the 
rattling  stage  or  railway-car — if,  in  reading,  or  musing,  or  lifting  up  your 
heart,  you  can  realize  that  Saviour's  presence,  who  is  about  your  path 
and  compasses  all  your  ways,  you  will  bo  almost  sorry  when  such  a  joui*- 
ney  is  ended,  and  when  such  a  solitude  is  exchanged  for  more  wonted 
society.  I  can  almost  believe  that  John  Bunyan  left  Bedford  jail  with  a 
sort  of  trembling,  fearing  that  he  might  never  find  again  sucli  a  Bethel 
as  he  had  found  in  that  narrow  cell  for  the  last  twelve  years ;  and  I  can 
understand  how  Samuel  Rutherford  wrote  from  his  place  of  banishment, 
"  Christ  has  met  me  in  Abei-deen,  and  my  adversaries  have  sent  me  here 
to  be  feasted  with  his  love.  I  would  not  have  believed  that  there  was 
so  much  in  Jesus  as  there  is.  But  '  Come  and  see,'  maketh  Christ  be 
known  in  his  excellency  and  glory." 

The  presence  of  Christ  can  turn  a  dark  night  into  a  night  much  to  be 
remembered.  Perhaps  it  is  time  to  be  sleeping,  but  the  November  A\dnd 
is  out,  and  as  it  riots  over  the  misty  hills,  and  dashes  the  rain-drift  on 
the  rattling  casement,  and  howls  like  a  spirit  distracted  in  the  fireless 
chimney,  it  has  -awakened  the  young  sleeper  in  the  upper  room.  And 
when  his  mother  enters,  she  finds  him  sobbing  out  his  infant  fears,  or 
with  beating  heart  hiding  from  the  noisy  danger  in  the  deptlis  of  his 
downy  pillow.  But  she  puts  the  candle  on  the  table,  and  sits  do\VTi 
beside  tlie  bed ;  and  as  he  hears  her  assuring  voice,  and  es])ies  the  gay 
comfort  in  her  smiling  face,  and  as  she  puts  her  hand  over  his,  the  tear 
stands  still  upon  his  cheek,  till  it  gets  time  to  dry,  and  the  smoothing 


734  JAMES     HAMILTON". 

down  of  the  panic  furrows  on  his  brow^,  and  the  brightening  of  his  eyo 
announce  that  he  is  ready  for  whatever  a  mother  has  got  to  tell.  And 
as  she  goes  on  to  explain  the  mysterious  sources  of  his  terror — "  That 
hoarse  loud  roaring  is  the  brook  tumbling  over  the  stones ;  for  the  long 
pouring  rains  have  filled  it  to  the  very  brim.  It  is  up  on  the  green  to- 
night, and  had  the  cowslips  been  in  blossom  they  would  all  have  been 
drowned.  Yes — and  that  thump  on  the  window.  It  is  the  old  cedar 
at  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  as  the  wind  tosses  his  stiff  branches 
they  bounce  and  scratch  on  the  panes  of  glass,  and  if  they  were  not  very 
small  they  would  be  broken  in  pieces."  And  then  she  goes  on  to  tell 
how  this  very  night  there  are  people  out  in  the  pelting  blast,  while  her 
little  boy  lies  Avarm  in  his  crib,  inside  of  his  curtahis ;  and  how  ships 
may  be  upset  on  the  deep  sea,  or  dashed  to  pieces  on  rocks  so  steep  that 
the  drowning  sailors  can  not  climb  them.  And  then  perhaps  she  ends  it 
all  with  breathing  a  mother's  prayer,  or  he  drops  asleep  beneath  the 
cradle-hymn. 

And  why  describe  all  this  ?  Because  there  is  so  much  practical  di- 
vinity in  it.  In  the  history  of  a  child,  a  night  like  this  is  an  important 
night,  -for  it  has  done  three  things.  It  has  explained  some  things  which, 
unexplained,  would  have  been  a  source  of  constant  alarm — perhaps  the 
germ  of  superstition  or  insanity.  It  has  taught  some, precious  lessons — 
sympathy  for  sufferers,  gratitude  for  mercies,  and  perhaps  some  pleasant 
thought  of  him  who  is  the  hiding-place  from  the  storm  and  the  covert 
from  the  tempest.  And  then  it  has  deepened  in  that  tender  bosom  the 
foundations  of  filial  piety,  and  helped  to  give  that  parent  such  hold  and 
purchase  on  a  filial  heart  as  few  wise  mothers  have  ever  failed  to  wm, 
and  no  manly  son  has  ever  blushed  to  own. 

Then  for  the  parallel.  "  As  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth,  so 
the  Lord  comforteth  his  people."  It  is  in  the  dark  and  boisterous  night 
of  sorrow  or  apprehension  that  the  Saviour  reveals  himself  nigh.  And 
one  of  the  first  things  he  does  is  to  explain  the  subject-matter  of  the 
grief,  to  show  its  real  nature  and  amount.  "It  is  but  a  light  infliction. 
It  lasts  but  for  a  moment.  It  is  a  false  alarm.  It  is  only  the  rain-drift 
on  the  window — wait  till  the  day  daAvns  and  shadows  flee  away.  Wait 
till  morning  and  you  will  see  the  whole  extent  of  it."  And  then  the 
next  thing  he  does  is  to  teach  some  useful  lesson.  And  during  those 
quiet  hours,  when  the  heart  is  soft,  the  Saviour's  lessons  sink  deep. 
And,  last  of  all,  besides  consolation  under  the  trial,  and  peaceful  fruits 
that  follow  it,  by  this  comforter-visit,  the  Saviour  unspeakably  endears 
himself  to  that  soul.  Paul  and  Silas  never  knew  Christ  so  well,  nor 
loved  him  so  much,  as  after  that  night  Avhich  he  and  they  passed  to- 
gether in  the  Macedonian  prison.  And  the  souls  on  which  the  Lord 
Jesus  has  taken  the  deepest  hold,  are  those  whose  great  tribulations 
have  thrown  them  most  frequently  and  most  entirely  into  his  own 
society. 


THE     PARTING     PROMISE.  735 

But  we  hasten  to  a  close.  We  have  seen  the  meaning  of  the  words 
go  tar — "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway  ;"  I  am  with  you  to  succor  in  tempta- 
tion, to  strengthen  in  duty,  to  guide  in  perplexity,  to  comfort  in  sor- 
row. From  the  histant  you  become  a  disciple,  I  am  with  you  all  along. 
I  am  with  you  every  day.  All  your  life  I  am  with  you — and  at  death  ? — 
at  death  you  are  with  me.  That's  the  difference.  At  present  I  am 
always  with  you,  but  you  are  not  always  with  me.  At  present  Jesus  is 
constantly  near  his  own,  but  his  own  do  not  constantly  desire  to  be  near 
him.  Here  it  is  only  by  faith  that  beUevers  enjoy  his  presence.  There 
they  shall  see  him  as  he  is.  Now  the  Lord  Jesus  follows  his  own 
Avhithersoever  they  go,  but  they  do  not  always  follow  him.  Then  it 
Avill  be  different,  for  they  will  follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he  goeth. 
And  all  that  is  wanting  to  complete  the  promise  is  what  death's  twink- 
ling will  supply.  Now  it  is,  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway" — and  then  it  is, 
"  And  so  shall  xoe  be  ever  with  the  Lord." 

" E\er  with  the  Lord."  At  once  and  forever.  At  once — for  absent 
from  the  body,  we  are  present  with  him.  So  near  is  Jesus  now,  that, 
like  the  infant  Avakmg  from  its  dream,  it  looks  up,  and  lo  !  she  sits  be- 
side it — waking  up  from  this  life-dream,  the  first  sight  is  Jesus  as  he  is. 
At  once — no  flight  through  immensity — no  pilgrimages  through  the 
spheres — for  the  everlasting  arms  are  the  first  resting-place  of  the  dis- 
embodied soul — it  will  be  in  the  bosom  of  Immanuel  that  the  emanci- 
pated spii-it  will  inquire,  "  Where  am  I  ?"  and  read  in  the  face  of  Jesus 
the  answer,  "  Forever  with  the  Lord."  Forever — to  be  with  him  for 
a  few  years,  as,  one  way  with  another,  John  and  Peter  were — to  be  with 
him  one  Lord's  day  as  the  beloved  disciple  subsequently  was — to  be 
with  him  a  few  moments,  as  Paid  caught  up  into  the  third  heavens  was 
— how  blessed !  But  to  be  ever  with  the  Lord — not  only  to-day,  but 
to-morrow — nay,  neither  to-day  nor  to-morrow,  but  now,  now,  one  ever- 
lasthig  now ! 

Forever  with  the  Lord  I 

Amen  1  so  let  it  be  ; 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word— 
'Tis  immortahty. 


C|e    |ris|    fulpt. 


DISCOURSE    LIL 

HENRY    COOKE,    D.D.,    LL.D. 

This  distinguished  divine  is  tall,  slender,  and  erect,  in  his  exterior — possesses  a 
very  piercing  eye,  high  brow,  and  aquiUne  nose.  His  early  ministerial  career 
commenced  in  a  small  country  charge  in  county  Antrim.  He  was  subsequently 
ti-anslated  to  Killileagh,  in  county  Down,  and  finally  to  May  Street,  Belfast,  which 
is  his  present  charge.  His  great  forte  lies  in  polemics ;  and  a  hard  conflict  with 
Unitarianism — which  was  spread  over  five  years,  between  1824  and  1829 — tried 
his  controversial  powers  most  severely.  He  was  brought  into  contact  with  no  ordi- 
nary metal  during  tliis  controversy,  but  he  gained  a  signal  triumph  ;  and,  under  God, 
was  the  instrument  of  regenerating  the  Presbyterian  church  of  Ulster. 

During  the  rage  of  voluntaryism  in  Scotland,  and  prior  to  the  late  disruption  in 
the  national  church,  Dr.  Cooke's  powers  as  a  polemic  were  once  more  tested  in  a 
viva  voce  discussion,  which  spread  over  two  entire  nights,  with  Dr.  Richey,  of  Ed- 
inburg,  known  as  the  "  Potter  Row"  Doctor.  The  issue  of  this  contest  was  the 
demolition  of  tlie  Edinburg  doctor,  and  the  silencing,  ever  since,  of  the  controversy 
in  Ulster.  In  1841,  Daniel  O'Connell,  then  in  the  zenith  of  his  glory  as  a  demagogue, 
proposed  to  visit  the  province  of  Ulster,  with  a  view  to  agitate  the  Repeal  of  the 
Union.  Dr.  Cooke  issued  a  challenge  to  the  Liberator,  so-called,  which  appeared  in 
all  tlie  metropolitan  and  provincial  papers  of  the  kingdom ;  but  the  Repealer,  on 
the  principle  of  discretion  being  the  best  part  of  valor,  "backed  out,"  aiid  the  Rev. 
Doctor  walked  over  the  ground  in  solitary  triumph. 

The  doctor's  writings  have  been  somewhat  restricted,  owing  to  his  pubHc  calls 
and  his  unbounded  populaiity.  He  edited  Blackie's  edition  of  Brown's  Bible,  adding 
some  20,000  original  notes,  exegetical  and  practical.  In  a  fire  which  broke  out  in 
one  of  the  hotels  in  London,  in  1840,  while  in  the  metropolis  on  church  business,  a 
large  pile  of  valuable  MSS.  belonging  to  him,  was  destroyed.  It  embraced  a  "  Con- 
cordance" nearly  ready  for  the  press.  Whether  he  has  undertaken  the  work  again, 
is  not  known. 

Dr.  Cooke,  besides  being  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in  May  Street,  Belfast, 
is  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric  in  the  Assembly's  College.  He  is  a  man  of  un- 
bounded generosity  of  heart  and  soul,  possessing,  in  a  most  extraordinary  degree 
the  attributes  of  the  Hon  and  the  lamb.  In  debate  he  is  fierce,  keen,  hair-splitting, 
and  sarcastic.  In  the  pulpit,  exegetical,  illustrative,  argumentative,  eloquent  and 
practical ;  in  the  parish,  full  of  mirthfulness  and  pleasantry,  abounding  in  anecdote, 
and  profuse  in  the  use  of  such  epithets  as  belong  to  the  figure  of  speech  called 
aUiterutioii. 

The  sermon  which  follows  contains  some  striking  passages  and  weighty  counsels. 
It  was  preached  at  the  opening  of  the  General  Synod  of  Ulster,  in  1825,  when  Dr. 
Cooke  was  stationed  at  Killileagh.  A  considerable  part,  as  delivered,  was  purely 
local  in  its  bearings.  In  striking  out  these  parts,  the  form  of  the  sermon  has  been 
necessarily  somewhat  changed. 

i> 


740  HENRY    COOKE, 

It  is  proper,  also,  to  add,  that  the  published  sermon  contained  quite  extended 
notes  additional  and  explanatory  to  certain  parts  of  the  discourse.  These  are  too 
extended  to  be  inti-oduced,  but  we  give  one  or  two  as  specimens  of  the  rest.  Ee- 
ferriug,  near  the  close,  to  the  ancient  churches  of  Asia  Minor,  mentioned  in  the  book 
of  Revelation,  he  says : 

"  Among  the  most  wonderful  things  of  the  providence  of  God,  is  the  manner  in 
which  he  makes  the  tongues  of  his  enemies  praise  him.  Take  for  example  the  fol- 
lowing quotation  from  the  insidious  Gibbon,  in  his  '  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall 
of  the  Roman  Empire :' — '  The  captivity  or  ruin  of  the  Seven  Churches  was  con- 
summated by  the  Ottomans  in  1312,  and  the  barbarous  lords  of  Ionia  and  Lydia 
stiU  trample  on  the  monuments  of  classic  and  Christian  antiquity.  In  the  loss  of 
Ephesus,  the  Christians  deplored  the  fall  of  the  first  angel ;  the  extinction  of  the 
first  candlestick  of  the  Revelation :  the  desolation  is  complete ;  and  the  Temple  of 
Diana,  and  the  Church  of  Mary,  will  equally  elude  the  search  of  the  curious  trav- 
eler. The  circus  and  three  stately  theaters  of  Laodicea  are  now  peopled  with 
wolves  and  foxes.  Sardis  is  reduced  to  a  miserable  village.  The  God  of  Mahomet, 
without  a  rival,  is  invoked  in  the  mosques  of  Thyatira  and  Pergamus ;  and  the  pop- 
ulousness  of  Smyrna  is  supported  by  the  foreign  trade  of  the  Franks  and  Arme- 
nians. Philadelphia  alone  has  been  saved  by  prophecy  or  courage.  At  a  distance 
from  the  sea,  forgotten  by  the  Emperors,  encompassed  on  all  sides  by  the  Turks, 
her  valiant  sons  defended  their  religion  and  freedom  above  fourscore  years,  and  at 
length  capitulated  with  the  proudest  of  the  Ottomans.  Among  the  Greek  colonies, 
and  churches  of  Asia,  Philadelphia  is  still  erect,  a  column  in  a  scene  of  ruins;  a  pleas- 
ing example  that  the  paths  of  honor  and  safety  may  sometimes  be  the  same. 
Let  it  be  ever  remembered,  that  the  great  body  of  the  churches  of  Asia  had  fallen 
into  '  Arianism,'  or  some  of  its  kindred  errors,  before  they  were  overwhelmed  by 
Mohammedanism.  They  had  disregarded  the  admonitions  of  the  Saviour ;  they  had 
fallen  by  degrees  from  the  truth ;  they  had  forgot  their  first  love ;  they  had  ne- 
glected to  strengthen  the  things  that  remained ; — and  the  Lord  '  removed  their  can- 
dlestick out  of  its  place.' " 

The  catholic  spirit  of  Dr.  Cooke  is  apparent  in  one  of  the  notes,  which  runs  thus : 

"  It  may,  perhaps,  appear  strange  that,  notwithstanding  their  acknowledged  dif- 
ferences on  some  important  doctrines,  I  have  classed  together  the  names  of  Wesley 
and  Whitefield.  I  am  aware  of  their  differences  in  the  superstructure  of  the  build- 
ing ;  but  I  am  equally  aware  that  they  built  upon  the  same  foundation.  When 
Christians  build  upon  the  same  foundation,  and  follow  the  same  head,  I  am  more 
incHned  to  rejoice  where  they  agree,  than  to  canvass  where  they  difi'er.  How 
nearly  these  two  eminent  servants  of  Christ  agreed  in  their  explanations  of  the 
gospel,  may  be  seen  beautifully  exemplified  in  one  of  Simeon's  notes  on  Claude's 
Essay.     It  is  worthy  the  attention  of  every  candid  Christian." 

Some  of  the  notes  consist  of  historical  references,  of  which  the  following  is  an 
example : 

"  The  early  state  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Ireland,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  will 
shortly  form  a  distinct  subject  of  history.  The  forlorn  condition  of  our  forefathers 
when  they  petitioned  the  General  Assembly  of  Scotland  for  missionaries,  will  form 
a  surprising  contrast  to  our  present  superabundance  in  the  ministry — while  the  zeal 
and  labors  of  the  missionaries,  who  preached,  at  least,  once  every  day  during  their 
ministry  in  Ireland,  will  set  an  admirable  example  before  their  successors  of  the 
present  generation." 


UNCONSCIOUS    SPIRITUAL    DECAY.  741 

UNCONSCIOUS    SPIRITUAL    DECAY. 

"  Thou  hast  a  name  to  live,  and  art  deail.  Be  watchful,  and  strengthen  the  things 
that  remain  that  are  ready  to  die." — Revelation,  iii.  1,  2. 

Between"  the  diseases  of  tlie  body,  and  the  sins  of  the  soul,  there  are 
many  features  of  a  striking  and  instructive  resemblance.  They  originated 
together  in  rebellion  against  God ;  they  advance  together  in  the  produc- 
tion of  suliering  and  misery ;  and,  if  unremedied,  they  terminate  together 
in  temporal  and  spiritual  death.  But  in  no  circumstance  is  the  resem- 
blance more  striking,  than  in  that  fatal  self  deception  Avith  which  they 
are  so  often  accompanied.  It  is  owing  to  this  self-deception  that  though 
man  can  never  become  insensible  to  pain,  nor  hope  to  evade  the  uni- 
versal sentence  of  death ;  it  is  yet  by  no  means  uncommon  to  find  him 
acting  as  if  perfectly  unconscious  of  the  progress  of  years,  or  the  ravages 
of  disease,  and  resting  in  the  confident  anticipation  of  long  life,  and  en- 
joyment, and  success ;  while,  to  every  eye  but  his  own,  he  appears  under 
the  most  manifest  symptoms  of  approaching  dissolution.  And  just  so  it 
is  with  the  sinnei*.  He  acknowledges  the  general  charge,  that  he  is,  in- 
deed, guilty  before  God;  he  admits  the  general  belief,  that  he  must 
appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ ;  yet  voluntarily  ignorant  of 
the  demands  of  the  law  ;  unacquainted  with  the  determined  alienation  of 
his  heart  from  God  ;  forgetting  the  renovation  and  conversion  which  the 
gospel  requires ;  he  is  supported  by  the  baseless  hope  of  an  undiscriminat- 
ing  mercy,  and  rests  contented  with  the  name  and  profession  of  an  out- 
ward religion,  though  unaccompanied  with  one  single  movement  of  the 
life  of  God  in  the  soul. 

This  coincidence  between  bodily  and  spiritual  disease,  may  still  further 
be  traced.  In  the  maladies  of  the  natural  body,  our  restoration,  in  a 
great  degree,  depends  upon  the  knowledge  of  our  disease,  and  sensibility 
of  our  danger;  our  watchfulness  against  the  causes  of  injury,  and  in  the 
a]  (plication  of  appropriate  and  timely  remedies.  So  in  the  case  of  spiritual 
malady  described  in  our  text,  the  church  is  informed  plainly,  and  faith- 
fully, of  the  deadly  nature  of  her  disease,  and  the  extent  of  her  danger ; 
is  exhorted-  to  the  exercise  of  lively  watchfulness  against  the  causes  of 
defection  ;  and  instructed  to  strengthen  the  few  remaining  principles  of 
spiritual  life,  which  though  yet  surviving  in  name,  were,  in  reality,  ready 
to  die. 

"We  propose,  then,  as  a  main  inquiry,  the  question,  "  When  may  it  be 
said  of  a  church,  '  Thou  hast  a  name  to  live,  and  art  dead  ?'  "  I  answer  : 

I.  When  a  church  has  the  name  of  Christian^  without  the  doc- 
trines OF  THE  GOSPEL. 

1.  The  most  important  discovery  in  tlie  word  of  God,  is  that  oi  redemp- 
tion hy  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  from  sin  and  death.  One  of  the  most 
vital  doctrines  must  therefore  be  that  which  relates  to  the  person  and 


742  HENRY    COOKE. 

work  of  the  Redeemer.  On  tins  subject  \re  may  view  the  oi^inions  of 
professing  churches  under  three  heads. 

By  some,  the  Redeemer  is  considered  a  mere  man,  in  all  respects,  aa 
to  nature,  like  ourselves.  By  others  he  is  considered  an  angel,  or 
created  spirit,  m  imion  with  human  nature.  By  others  he  is  held  to  be 
the  WORD  that  was  with  God  and  was  God — "  God  manifest  in  the 
flesh." 

With  respect  to  the  first — if  the  Redeemer  were  a  mere  man,  in  all 
points  like  ourselves,  subject  to  prejudice,  error,  weakness,  sin ;  then 
may  we  say  of  our  faith,  "  surely  we  have  preached  in  vain,  and  you 
have  believed  in  vain  !  we  are  yet  in  our  sins."  If  we  know  our  o^ti 
hearts,  we  must  feel  that  a  Saviour,  no  better,  or  only  a  little  better, 
than  ourselves,  can  never  be  a  fit  object  for  the  faith,  the  hope,  the  de- 
pendence of  sinners;  nor  give  movement  or  life  to  the  church  of  God. 

But  should  the  Redeemer  be  of  a  more  elevated  nature ;  should  he 
rank  among  angels,  as  one  of  those  spirits  who,  during  the  innvimerable 
ages  that  have  elapsed  since  the  commencement  of  creation,  have  been 
advancing  in  wisdom,  and  holiness,  and  power  ;  still,  though  the  Saviour 
were  an  angel,  man  is  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  and  would 
therefore  have  to  depend  on  an  arm  little  stronger  than  his  own,  Nay, 
as  all  but  God  himself  is  liable  to  change ;  as  God  is  declared  to  have 
even  charged  his  angels  with  folly ;  this  Saviour,  this  Redeemer,  might 
fall  from  God,  and  be  banished  into  that  misery  from  which  the  gospel, 
by  him,  proposes  to  rescue  sinful  man. 

The  power  of  a  creature,  however  exalted,  can  never  give  life  to  the 
church.  There  is,  in  the  awakened  conscience  of  a  sinner,  a  fear  that 
can  find  no  repose  but  in  the  bosom  of  the  Eternal ;  and  can  put  no 
confidence  in  any  redemption  but  that  which  is  eftected  by  the  arm  of 
Omnipotence.  The  first  movement  of  the  life  of  hope  in  the  penitent 
sinner,  and,  consequently,  of  the  life  of  holiness  in  the  church,  originates 
from  receiving  Christ  as  "God  made  manifest  in  the  flesh," 

The  life  of  the  soul  is,  to  know  God,  with  feelings  of  love  and  con- 
formity, Now  God  is  not  known  to  his  creatures,  even  in  innocence, 
but  by  means  of  some  external  manifestation.  Let  us  suppose,  for  ex- 
ample, that  ill  the  wide  circuit  of  the  world  there  existed  nothing  but 
God ;  let  us  suppose  God  to  call  into  being  some  man  or  angel  of 
mighty  mind ;  let  him  exist  without  any  external  world  ;  let  him  have 
no  sun,  no  moon,  no  stars,  no  earth,  to  contemplate ;  let  him  stand  dark 
and  solitary  in  the  universe.  From  the  fact  of  his  own  existence,  he 
may  infer  an  eternal  being ;  but  how  Httle  more  can  he  discover  of  the 
attributes  and  will  of  his  Creator,  But  let  us  now  suppose  the  deity  to 
arise  in  the  act  of  creation,  lie  forms  the  heavens  and  the  earth ;  he 
says.  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  is  light ;  ho  sets  the  sun  his  tent  in 
the  heavens ;  he  garnishes  the  skies  with  all  his  stars ;  he  jilants  the 
earth  with  trees,  and  decks  it  with  flowers ;  he  forms  innumerable  orders 


UNCONSCIOUS    SPIRITUAL    DECAY.  743 

and  varieties  of  animated  things;  and,  in  the  midst  of  these,  stands 
that  creature  who  lately  was  solitary  in  the  universe  !  The  things  of 
God  are  now  sj^eedily  discovered,  being  understood  by  the  things  that 
are  made;  even  his  eternal  power  and  Godhead  (Rom.,  i.  20).  And  in 
the  mighty  power  that  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  in  the  pro- 
fusion of  kindness  that  supplies  the  creatures,  in  the  admirable  adapta- 
tion of  means  to  so  many  ends,  the  intelligent  creature  discovers  those 
attributes  of  omnipotence,  and  wisdom,  and  goodness,  which  constitute 
the  essential  elements  of  the  divine  character. 

Now,  were  we  even  to  admit,  what  the  Scriptures  will  by  no  means 
warrant  us,  that  the  works  of  nature  afforded  to  man,  at  his  creation,  a 
perfect  revelation  of  the  being,  attributes,  and  will  of  God  ;  still  this 
revelation  could  serve  no  longer  than  man  continued  to  hold  his  original 
and  natural  relation  to  his  Creator.  Should  it  then  appear  that  man, 
by  sin,  has  fallen  into  a  new  and  unnatural  relation  to  the  Creatoi',  there 
is  required  a  new  manifestation  of  God,  that  man  may  again  be  enabled 
to  know  God,  and  again  have  spiritual  life  in  the  knowledge  of  God. 
Philosophers  have  darkened  our  eyes  with  the  discoveries,  and  stunned 
our  ears  with  the  praises,  of  "  natural  religion  ;"  but  alas !  of  what  avail 
to  man  is  "  natural  religion,"  since  the  condition  of  man  himself  is  "  un- 
natural." His  natural  state  was  innocence  and  immortality;  his  un- 
natural state  is  sin  and  death.  Just  of  so  much  avail  as  light  to  him 
that  is  blind,  music  to  him  that  can  not  hear,  and  food  to  him  that  is 
dead,  are  the  discoveries  of  natural  religion  to  him  that  is  in  the  un- 
natural condition  of  sin  and  death.  Now  that  man  is  capable  of  dis- 
covering his  unnatural  state  of  rebellion  appears,  not  only  from  the 
confession  of  some  of  the  wisest  heathens,  but  the  apostle  informs  us 
(Rom.,  i,  32)  that  the  Gentiles,  when  guilty  of  wickedness,  and  taking 
pleasure  in  wicked  i:)ersons,  yet  knew  the  judgment  of  God,  that  they 
who  committed  such  crimes  were  worthy  of  death  ;  their  consciences 
(Rom.,  ii.  15)  bearing  witness,  and  their  thoughts,  the  mean  while,  ac- 
cusing, or  else  excusing  one  another ;  while  (Rom.,  iii.  19)  every  mouth 
is  thus  stopped,  and  all  the  world  becomes  guilty  before  God.  Man, 
thus  self-condemned  by  his  own  conscience,  requii'cs  a  manifestation  of 
God  which  proclaims  pardon.  Ignorant  of  pardon,  man  is  ignorant  of 
God.  Ignorant  of  God,  he  is  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.  While 
obedient  to  God,  man  knew  God  loved  him ;  but  where  has  God  told 
him  he  will  save  him  though  guilty  ?  And  even  if  God  can  love  and 
pardon  the  guilty  sinner,  where  shall  the  sinner  look  for  the  evidence 
of  that  love  and  pardon  ?  If  the  solution  of  these  questions  be  not  fur 
/lished  by  creation,  we  have  internal  evidence,  that  in  order  to  his 
restoration  to  spiritual  life,  another  manifestation  of  God  was  necessary 
to  sinful  man.  Let  us  then  examine  creation,  that  we  may  find  whether, 
as  the  source  of  natural  religion,  it  aiford  to  the  sinner  any  manifestation 
«f  God  as  ready  to  pardon  his  iniquities 


744  HENRY     COOKE. 

Ascend  we  with  astronomy  to  the  sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars  :  in  all 
their  jDages  of  light  and  of  glory,  we  read  not  a  record  of  j^ardon.  De- 
scend we  to  the  earth,  the  scene  of  onr  sin,  our  misery,  and  our  death ', 
and  neither  in  the  sea,  the  land,  the  mountain,  the  plain,  the  qualities  of 
plants,  or  the  nature  of  animals,  do  Ave  find  one  evidence  how,  or  whether, 
God  win  pardon.  Or  enter  we  into  the  secret  recesses  of  our  souls  :  con- 
science has  there  recorded  our  sins  ;  but  instead  of  revealing  to  us  whether 
God  will  pardon,  her  eye  wanders  unsatisfied  by  a  ray  of  reviving  hope  ; 
and  to  every  visitant,  it  is  her  earnest,  but  unsatisfied  inquiry,  "  What  shall 
I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  Here,  then,  there  is  internal  evidence  that  there 
was  required  a  new  manifestation  of  God,  to  meet  the  new  situation  into 
which  man  was  reduced  by  sin ;  to  supply  to  the  awakened  conscience 
the  deficiency  of  nature,  which  did  only  reveal  the  Creator,  but  not 
"the  sin-pardoning  God,"  and,  to  save  him  from  ignorance,  and  sin,  and 
misery,  and  death,  by  restoring  him  to  the  knowledge  and  love  of  God- 
wherein  consisteth  his  spiritual  life, 

2.  The  second  doctrine  upon  which  depends  the  life  of  the  church,  is 
the  atonement  or  sacrifice  lohich  C/irist,  our  Lord.,  has  offered  for  sin. 
The  supreme  deity  of  our  Saviour  demonstrates  this  his  power  to  save, 
if  he  would.  The  sacrifice  he  has  offered  exhibits  the  power  exerted  and 
salvation  accomplished.  The  humble,  and  cordial,  and  efficient  acceptance 
of  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  atonement,  is  the  very  Ufe-pulse  of  the  church. 

The  evidence  of  this  important  doctrine  I  shall  merely  review  in  the 
order  of  time.  It  may  be  viewed  as  figured  in  the  sacrifice  of  the  law. 
From  the  days  of  Abel,  who  oftered  the  firstlings  of  his  flock,  till  the 
days  of  Christ,  who  offered  himself  without  spot  to  God,  the  sacrifices 
bear  testimony,  that  "  without  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission 
of  sin."  AYe  may  view  it  also  as  foretold  by  prophets :  "  He  was 
wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities ;  the 
chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and  by  his  stripes  we  were 
healed.  The  Lord  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all.  For  the  trans- 
gression of  my  people  was  he  stricken ;  and  he  bore  the  sins  of  many, 
and  made  intercession  for  the  transgressors." 

We  have  the  same  doctrine  declared  by  John  the  Baptist,  when  he 
came  to  prepare  the  way  of  the  Lord.  John  was  our  Saviour's  witness 
that  all  men  through  him  might  believe ;  and  pointing  to  him  with  the 
finger  to  direct  the  people's  faith  :  "  Behold,"  saith  he,  "  the  Lamb  of 
God  that  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world."  Moreover,  we  may  con- 
sider the  doctrine  as  taught  by  our  Saviour  himself:  "  This  is  my  blood 
of  the  New  Testament,  which  is  shed  for  the  remission  of  the  sins  of 
many."  We  have  it,  also,  as  explained  by  the  inspired  apostles  of  our 
Lord  :  "  In  whom  we  have  redemption  through  his  blood — the  forgive- 
ness of  shis." 

And,  finally,  we  have  the  doctrine  explained  as  understood  by  saints 
in  glory,  who  had  already  entered  int:  their  everlasting  rest.     Now, 


UNCONSCIOUS    SPIRITUAL    DECAY.  745 

though  all  men  on  earth  should  have  expected  salvation  by  inadequate 
means,  or  to  arrive  at  glory  by  an  erroneous  road,  there  can  be  no  hesi- 
tation in  believmg,  that  those  who  had  already  attained  to  heaven,  must 
have  known  the  means  of  their  success,  and  the  road  they  had  traveled, 
Let  us  listen  to  them :  "  And  I  beheld,  and  lo  !  in  the  midst  of  tho 
throne,  and  of  the  beasts,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  elders,  stood  a  Lamb, 
as  it  had  been  slain ;  and  when  he  had  taken  the  book,  the  four  beasts 
and  the  four  and  twenty  eldei's  fell  down  before  the  Lamb,  and  they  sung 
a  new  song,  saying,  '  Thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book  and  to  open  the 
seals  thereof;  for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed  us  unto  God  by 
thy  blood.'  "  Let  any  man  examine  this  series  of  evidence ;  it  com- 
mences nearly  coeval  with  creation ;  it  is  exhibited  in  sacrifices  ;  it  is 
foretold  by  prophets ;  it  is  announced  by  the  Baptist  in  our  Saviour's 
presence ;  it  is  recorded  by  our  Saviour  himself  a  few  hours  before  his 
death  ;  it  is  preached  by  apostles  to  Jews  and  Gentiles  ;  it  is  the  theme 
of  saints  in  the  kingdom  of  their  rest ;  it  runs  uninterrupted  and  unvary- 
ing along  the  stream  of  four  thousand  years,  till  the  testimony  is  sealed, 
and  revelation  completed;  let  all  this  be  examined,  and  must  we  not 
then  conclude,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement  is  a  necessary  princi- 
ple to  the  life  of  the  church.  The  believer  lives  because  Jesus  died  for 
him.  He  bare  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree,  that  we,  being  dead 
to  sin,  should  live  unto  righteousness. 

3.  The  third  doctrine  upon  which  depends  the  life  of  the  church,  ia 
that  of  the  Holy  jSpirit  and  his  mfluences.  The  doctrine  of  the  exist- 
ence and  energy  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  revealed  in  the  very  commence- 
ment of  the  Word  of  God  :  "  In  the  beginning,  God  created  the  heavens 
and  the  earth,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  ftice  of  the  waters." 
That  this  Spirit  is  the  moving  power  in  restraining  from  sin,  in  exciting 
to  faith,  repentance,  love,  and  obedience,  is  manifested  in  the  historical 
record  of  Noah :  "  My  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with  men."  For 
this  pure  Spirit  to  renew  his  heart,  David  prays ;  of  the  outpouring  of 
this  Spirit  Ezekiel  prophesies ;  of  this  Spirit  our  Saviour  promises : 
"  Your  heavenly  Father  will  give  his  Holy  Spirit  to  them  Avho  ask." 
And  of  this  Spirit  the  ajoostle  declares,  he  makes  the  heart  of  the 
believer  his  temple ;  and  witnesseth  with  our  spirits,  that  we  are  the 
children  of  God.  The  supreme  deity  of  the  Holy  Spirit  is  manifest  from 
the  following  Scriptures :  "  Why  hath  Satan  filled  thine  heart  to  lie  unto 
the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Thou  hast  not  hed  unto  men,  but  unto  God."  "  The 
things  of  God  knoweth  no  man,  but  the  Spirit  of  God."  "  Know  ye  not 
that  ye  are  the  temple  of  God,  and  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwelleth  in 
you  ?  If  any  man  defile  that  temple,  him  will  God  destroy ;  for  the 
temple  of  God  is  holy,  which  temple  ye  are."  "  Ye  are  the  temple  of 
the  living  God  ;  as  God  hath  said,  I  will  dwell  with  them,  and  I  Avill  be 
their  God,  and  they  shall  be  my  people."  "  Ye  are  the  temple  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  which  is  in  you." 


746 


HENRY    COOKE. 


The  entire  efficacy  of  religion  is,  by  our  Saviour,  ascribed  to  the  Holy 
Spirit :  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  except  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  the 
Sjjirit,  he  shall  in  nowise  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  Having 
convinced  the  soul  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  judgment,  it  is  the  office 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  take  the  things  of  Christ  and  show  them  unto 
the  believer.  These  thmgs  of  Christ  are  :  his  glorious  nature,  yet  lowly 
humiliation ;  the  atonement  of  Christ,  whereby  the  sinner  beholds  his 
iniquities  forgiven  and  his  transgressions  blotted  out ;  the  gifts  of  the 
Spirit  in  the  hand  of  Christ,  whereby  the  polluted  soul  becomes  ac- 
quainted with  sufficient  means  of  purification,  and  the  saddest  and  weak- 
est heart  finds  comfort  and  strength  ;  and  finally,  the  glory  that  shall 
hereafter  be  revealed  in  all  them  that  love  God.  These  are  the  things 
of  Christ  which  the  Holy  Spirit  witnesseth  to  the  mind,  and  by  the  liv- 
ing impress  of  which  upon  the  understanding  and  the  conscience,  the 
soul  of  the  sinner  is  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption. 

4.  In  the  sum  of  these  doctrines,  we  discover  the  fourth  principle,  upon 
the  influence  of  which  the  life  of  the  church  depends — the  doctrine  of 
free  grace.  In  the  dispensation  of  his  gifts,  God  sits  the  sovereign  of 
the  universe.  His  sovereignty,  indeed,  is  not,  as  some  have  pretended, 
under  the  guidance  of  ignorance,  or  cruelty,  or  caprice.  In  the  exercise 
of  power  no  one  of  his  peifections  is,  or  can  be,  excluded.  In  truth, 
though  to  the  weak  eye  of  man  God  may  appear  in  perfections  multiform 
or  opposing,  the  Deity  is  in  reality  but  one  perfection.  The  division  of 
his  attributes  is  a  mere  effiart  of  man  to  bring  the  Deity  to  the  level  of 
his  humble  conception.  The  sovereignty  of  God,  thus  viewed,  is  an  equal 
and  simple  exercise  of  power,  and  justice,  and  wisdom,  and  love. 

The  practical  reception  of  tliis  doctrine  m  the  church,  lies  at  the  found- 
ation of  a  religion  for  sinners.  "  How  do  you  expect  to  be  pardoned  ?"  is 
the  first  question  in  such  a  religion.  The  common  answer  returned  is, 
"  If  I  repent,  and  amend  my  ways,  God  will  pardon  me."  I  am  aware 
thrig  runs  the  full  current  of  popular  and  inconsiderate  theology.  As  no 
man  can  be  saved  without  repentance,  it  is  therefore  concluded,  that  men 
are  saved  on  account  of  their  repentance.  But  if  men  are  saved  on  ac- 
count of  their  repentance,  then  is  salvation  of  works,  not  of  grace.  Now, 
the  Scriptures  assure  us  that  we  are  justified  freely  by  grace,  through 
the  redemption  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  and  that  "  by  grace  are  we  saved 
through  faith ;"  and  that  not  of  ourselves ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God,  not  of 
Avorks,  lest  any  man  should  boast.  There  can  be  only  two  possible 
grounds  for  the  pardon  of  a  sinner — his  own  works  of  repentance,  or  the 
free  grace  of  God  in  Christ.  On  whatever  principle  the  sinner  receives 
pardon,  on  the  same  principle  depends  the  life  of  the  Redeemer's  church. 
Let  us  then  examine  the  scriptural  grounds  for  j^ardon,  as  we  have  al- 
ready quoted  them;  and  to  these  let  us  add  one  plain  text — "And  the 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  his  Son,  cleanseth  from  all  sin."  Now,  in  all  these 
plain  quotations,  pardon  is  ascribed  to  one  single  cause — "  the  blood  of 


UNCONSCIOTIS     SPIRITUAL    DECAY.  747 

Christ."  But  as  we  live  in  a  pliilosoplucal  age,  perhaps  it  may  be  of 
some  importance  to  show  that  the  principles  of  the  soundest  philosophy 
can  be  exhibited  in  strict  subservience  to  the  accumulated  testimony  of 
Scripture.  It  is,  then,  a  principle  of  the  soundest  philosoi)hy,  that  "  we 
are  not  to  assign  to  any  effect  more  causes  than  are  adequate  to  its  pro- 
duction." In  Scripture,  then,  the  pardon  of  sin  is  ascribed  to  one  cause, 
"  the  blood  of  Christ ;"  why,  then,  ascribe  it  to  another,  "  the  sinner's 
own  repentance  ?"  The  simple  fact  is,  the  pardon  of  sin  is  not  the  effect, 
but  the  cause  of  repentance.  The  love  of  God  in  sending  his  Son  into 
the  world,  the  free  gi-ace  of  God  in  pardoning  sin,  are  the  motives  that 
work  upon  a  sinner's  soul.  He  loves,  because  he  was  first  loved ;  and 
sincerely  repents,  because  he  is  freely  pardoned. 

These  are  the  doctrines,  by  whose  mighty  energies  the  church  of  God 
arises  to  life  and  glory.  These  were  the  doctrines  that  gave  life  to  the 
labors  of  Paul,  and  of  Peter,  and  of  John,  and  the  noble  army  of  martyrs 
and  confessors  of  the  truth.  These  are  the  principles,  obscured  during  a 
long  night  of  mental  darkness,  or  entombed  through  ages  of  spiritual 
death,  which  again  sprang  to  life  on  the  morning  of  the  Reformation,  and 
propelled  the  life-pulse  of  their  divinity  through  the  renovated  churches. 
These  are  the  living  doctrines,  which  warmed  the  hearts,  and  guided  the 
pens,  and  gave  eloquence  to  the  tongues,  of  Luther,  and  Cahin,  and  Zuiiig- 
lius,  and  Melancthon,  and  Knox.  These  are  the  doctrines,  whicli,  m 
more  modern  times,  stirred  within  the  souls  of  Wesley  and  of  White- 
field,  when  they  burst  irresistibly  over  those  barriers  of  formality  with- 
out M^hich,  a  cold,  and  lifeless,  and  almost  heathenish  mythology  had 
intrenched  herself  These  are  the  doctrines  by  which  they  stirred  up 
the  life  of  God  in  the  cold  hearts  of  multitudes  sleeping  in  sin  and  the 
shadow  of  death.  These  are  the  doctrines  which  sent  an  Eliot,  and  a 
Brainerd,  and  a  Swartz,  and  a  Vanderkemp,  and  a  Martyn,  to  the  Indian, 
the  Hottentot,  the  Hindoo,  and  the  Persian.  These  are  the  doctrines 
which  wafted  life  around  the  globe,  to  our  antipodes  in  the  South  Seas, 
and  made  the  scattered  islands  to  blossom  as  the  gardens  of  God.  These 
are  the  doctrines  by  which  the  church  shall  live,  unchanged  by  time,  and 
Avhich  shall  hail  the  Redeemer  in  her  hymns,  and  her  sermons,  and  her 
l)rayers,  when  he  shall  come  the  second  tune  without  sin  to  salvation. 

II.  The  church  may  have  a  name  to  live,  and  be  in  reality  dead,  whex 

ORTHODOXY  IX  OPIXIOX  IS  SUBSTITUTED  FOR  MORALITY  IN  PRACTICE.      Our 

Saviour  has  attributed  sanctification  to  the  belief  of  the  truth ;  yet  the 
Word  of  God  has  denounced  deserved  wrath  against  those  who  hold  or 
imprison  the  truth  in  nnriglr.  jousness.  The  life  of  the  church  must  be 
seen  in  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  growing  from  the  seed  of  the  truth.  For 
as  bodily  life  is  not  a  principle  that  we  understand  by  its  own  nature,  but 
is  merely  seen  and  acknowledged  in  its  outward  effects  ;  so  the  spiritual 
life  is  not  to  be  evidenced  by  a  mere  mental  possession  of  the  doctrines 
of  truth  from  which  it  springs,  but  by  a  visible  exhibition  of  their  fruit 


748  HENET    COOKE. 

unto  lioliness.  Gal.,  v.  22.  The  fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love,  joy,  peace, 
long-suftering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance ;  and 
they  that  are  Christ's  have  crucified  the  flesh  ■with  the  aifections  and 
lusts.     If  we  live  in  the  Spirit,  we  must  also  walk  in  the  Spirit. 

Ill,  The  church  may  also  have  a  name  to  live,  while  in  reahty  dead, 

FROM  AX  EXTERNAL  MORALITY,  WITHOUT  HUMILITY  AND  PIETY. 

It  is  a  flivored  object  with  those  called  philosophical  Chi-istians,  to  dis- 
card all  imjDortance  from  the  belief  of  the  truth,  and  to  attach  every  thing 
valuable  to  moral  conduct.  And,  indeed,  could  it  be  proved  that  gen- 
uine morality,  having  equally  the  love  of  God  and  man  for  its  motive  and 
its  object,  could  exist  without  the  belief  of  the  truth,  then  might  it  be 
granted  that  the  doctrines  we  believe  are  of  little  importance.  But 
so  long  as  practice  must  arise  from  principle,  the  value  of  our  outward 
conduct  must  be  estimated  by  the  inward  principles  from  which  it  springs. 
The  fact  is,  that  whenever  men  begin  to  extol  morality,  and  depreciate 
doctrinal  truth,  they  are  found  to  be  equally  strangers  to  both.  They 
have  a  name  to  live  in  some  partial  and  conventional  virtues — virtues 
founded  in  pride  and  self-love,  and  which,  therefore,  are  frequently  the 
parents  of  the  most  revolting  crimes.  Of  this  fact  we  have  a  remarkable 
instance  in  the  case  of  the  Pharisees.  They  pride  themselves  upon  the 
unimjDeachable  correctness  of  their  outward  morality ;  yet  our  Savioui 
tfells  them :  "  I  know  you  that  ye  have  not  the  love  of  God  in  you,"  And 
the  fruit  of  their  morality  was  awfully  exhibited  in  their  prosecution  and 
crucifixion  of  the  Lord  of  life  and  glory.  The  life  of  the  church,  pro- 
duced by  the  Spirit  of  God,  is  truth  in  the  understanding,  the  love  of 
God  in  the  heart,  humility  because  of  our  unworthiness,  watchfulness  unto 
prayer,  and  holiness  in  all  our  conversation. 

I  can  not  conclude  "\\'ithout  remarking  that  in  all  the  pages  of  historic 
record  we  find  the  life  of  the  church  endangered  by  two  diseases ;  the 
first  of  these  is — conformity  in  church  rulers  to  the  spirit  and  pursuits 
of  the  world.  When  the  clergy  of  a  church  become  so  conformed  to 
the  world,  that  in  secularized  employments,  frivolous  amusements,  epicu- 
rean indulgence,  and  idle  conversation,  they  so  assimilate  with  the 
general  picture  of  society,  that  the  eye  of  the  most  experienced  seai-ches 
in  vain  for  the  distinctive  features  of  the  primitive  ministerial  chai-acter 
— or  when  they  are  only  distinguished  from  the  crowd  of  busy  men,  by 
the  weekly  routine  of  their  allotted  employment;  and  when,  with  in. 
tensity  of  apphcation,  they  are  bowed  down  to  the  profitable  but  perish- 
able secularities  of  time,  disregarding  the  impeiishable  riches  of  their 
people's  eternity — tlien  is  the  time  when  their  fellow-laborers,  who  have 
not  yet  been  fascinated  by  the  spirit  of  the  world,  should  speak  aloud  in 
their  ears  and  awake  them  from  the  fatal  lethargy,  and  raise  them  from 
their  earthly  pursuits,  and  compel  them  to  the  reproduction  of  the  talent 
which  they  have  hid  in  the  enrth,  that  their  souls  may  be  saved  in  the 
day  when  their  Lord  cometh. 


UNCONSCIOUS    SPIRITUAL    DECAY.  749 

The  second  disease  that  threatens  the  hfe  of  the  church,  is  a  spirit  of 
indifference  about  reUgious  truth-  The  'doctrines  of  the  gospel  are  of 
vital  operation,  and  paramount  importance.  To  he  indifferent  about 
them  is  the  first  symj^tom  of  an  infection,  that,  if  not  remedied,  must 
terminate  in  death.  While  Christians  exercise  charity  toward  the  preju- 
dices or  faults  of  one  another,  it  by  no  means  follows  that,  in  the  exer- 
cise of  this  charity  they  are  to  sacrifice  the  truth,  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  to  the 
errors  of  a  false  philosophy  or  a  spurious  gospel.  The  great  basis  upon 
which  this  indifi'erentism  is  founded,  is  the  plausible  and  imposing  propo- 
sition, "  that  if  we  be  sincere  in  profession,  it  is  no  matter  what  Ave  be- 
lieve." This  dream  about  sincerity  is  a  sad  delusion.  It  reduce's  to  one 
common  level  the  religion  of  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  of  Mahomet 
the  Imposter,  of  the  Brahmins  of  India,  the  Sophis  of  Persia,  and  the 
Cannibals  of  the  South  Seas.  They  are  all,  without  question,  sincere. 
Therefore,  all  their  i-eligions  are  alike.  It  supersedes  the  necessity  of 
searching  the  Scriptures  for  the  mind  of  the  Lord,  or  of  jjraying  for  the 
light  and  guidance  of  his  Spirit.  It  puts  the  sinner's  sincerity  in  place 
of  the  atonement  of  Christ,  and  hi  place  of  the  work  of  the  Holy  Si)irit 
in  pui-ifying  his  heart.  The  word  of  God  tells  us,  with  all  possible  plain- 
ness, "  Except  ye  be  converted ;"  except  a  man  be  born  of  water  and  of 
the  Spirit,  "  ye  can  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God."  But  this 
specious  indifferentism  tells  us  at  once,  "  mind  none  of  these  declara- 
tions— for  if  a  man  be  sincere,  there  is  no  doubt  he  AviU  be  saved." 
God  forbid  I  should  undervalue  real  sincerity.  It  is  an  essential  princi- 
ple of  vital  godliness.  It  was  the  principle  of  Ihe  disciples  when  they 
left  all  to  follow  Christ ;  it  Was  the  principle  of  Paul  when  he  said, 
"  Lord,  what  wouldst  thou  have  me  to  do  ?"  But  the  pretended  sin- 
cerity against  which  I  speak,  is  the  sincerity  that  begins  in  carelessness 
about  religious  opinions  or  practice,  atid  then  wishes  to  beguile  others  to 
a  similar  indifterence.  I  speak  of  those  men  Avho,  too  much  prejudiced 
to  inquire,  and  too  obstinate  to  be  convinced  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in 
Jesus,  yet  seek,  under  the  plea  of  sincerity,  a  shelter  for  their  voluntary 
errors.  The  sincerity  of  the  Christian  makes  him  a  candid  inquirer,  and 
an  humble  receiver  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  The  test  of  truth  is 
not  his  own  suicerity,  but  an  appeal  to  the  Sci'iptures,  the  standard  of 
truth.  His  test  of  conduct  is  not  the  declared  sincerity  of  his  convic- 
tions of  duty,  but  conformity  to  the  will  of  God,  with  the  fruits  of  the 
Spirit  in  knowledge,  righteousn  ess,  and  true  holiness.  This  conformity 
is  evidence  of  the  life  of  God  in  the  soul,  or  in  the  church  ;  all  other 
sincerity  is  pretended,  and  merely  proves  the  mental  disease  of  those  by 
whom  it  is  pleaded  in  defense  of  their  aberrations. 

Finally.  Our  text  discovers  to  us  the  danger  of  substituting  the 
name  for  the  life  of  religion.  When  we  I'eflect  on  the  life  of  our  Ke- 
fleemer ;  and  Avhen  we  perceive  how  little  the  churches  are  conformed 
to  his  image — then  the  bearing  and  application  3f  the  epistle  in  our  text 


750  EENRT    COOKE. 

should  fall  heavy  upon  eveiy  ear,  and  sink  deep  into  every  heart.  Tlie 
various  conditions  of  the  churches  in  Asia  may  be  viewed  as  so  many 
prophetic  pictures  of  all  the  churches  upon  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  and  the 
epistles  of  Jesus  to  these  several  churches  as  impressive  declarations  of 
that  providential  government  which  he  exercises  over  them  to  the  end  of 
the  world.  To  one,  he  testifies,  "  I  know  thy  works,  and  labor,  and  pa- 
tience, and  that  for  my  name's  sake  thou  hast  labored  and  hast  not  faint- 
ed ;  nevertheless  I  have  somewhat  against  thee,  because  thou  hast  left  thy 
first  love.  Remember,  therefore,  from  whence  thou  art  fallen,  and  repent 
aiid  do  the  first  works,  or  else  I  will  come  unto  thee  quickly,  and  will 
remove  thy  candlestick  out  of  his  place,  except  thou  repent."  To 
another,  he  testifies,  "  I  know  thy  works  and  thy  poverty  (but  thou  art 
rich) ;  be  thou  faithful  unto  death  and  I  will  give  thee  a  cro^\ai  of  life." 
To  another,  he  testifies,  "I  know  thy  works,  that  thou  boldest  fast  my 
name  and  hast  not  denied  my  faith ;  but  I  have  a  few  things  against 
thee;  repent,  or  else  I  mil  come  unto  thee  quickly,  and  will  fight  against 
thee  with  the  sword  of  my  mouth."  To  another,  he  testifies,  "I  know 
thy  works,  and  charity,  and  service,  and  faith,  and  thy  patience  and  thy 
works,  and  the  last  to  be  more  than  the  first  Notwithstanding  I  have 
a  few  things  against  thee,  but  that  which  thou  hast,  hold  fast  till  I  come." 
To  another,  he  testifies,  "I  know  thy  works,"  etc. ;  "remember,  there- 
fore, how  thou  hast  received  and  heard,  and  hold  fast  and  repent."  To 
another,  he  testifies,  "  I  know  thy  works,  that  thou  art  neither  hot  nor 
cold ;  I  would  thou  wert  either  hot  or  cold  ;  I  counsel  thee  to  buy  of 
me  gold  tried  in  the  fire,  that  thou  mayest  be  rich  ;  and  white  raiment 
that  thou  mayest  be  clothed ;  and  eye-salve  that  thou  mayest  see.  Be 
zealous,  therefore,  and  repent."  To  another,  he  testifies  (and  I  humbly 
pray  God  that  this  last  testimony  may  be  found  descriptive  of  the  Pres- 
byterian churchy  whose  concerns  and  interests  we  are  met  to  consider 
and  to  conduct),  "  I  know  thy  works  :  behold,  I  have  set  before  thee  an 
open  door  and  no  man  can  shut  it ;  for  thou  hast  a  little  strength,  and 
hast  kept  my  Avord,  and  hast  not  denied  my  name ;  and  because  thou 
hast  kept  the  word  of  my  patience,  I  also  will  keep  thee  from  the  hour 
of  temptation,  which  shall  come  upon  all  the  earth  to  try  them  that 
dwell  upon  the  earth.  Behold,  I  come  quickly :  hold  that  fast  which 
thou  hast,  that  no  man  take  thy  crown.  Him  that  overcometh,  will  I 
make  a  pillar  in  the  temple  of  my  God,  and  I  will  write  i;pon  him  my 
new  name." 

Let  us,  then,  be  "watchful,  and  strengthen  the  things  that  remain 
that  are  ready  to  die."  Should  we  ever  forsake  the  Rock  of  ages,  the 
foundation  of  our  church,  the  fabric  will  crumble  into  ruin  ;  but  as  iOng 
as  we  rest  on  the  foundation,  Christ  Jesus  the  Lord,  "  God  manifest  in 
the  flesh,"  we  shall  remain,  through  the  changes  and  injuries  of  time, 
a  temple  unprofaned  by  the  foot  of  the  enemy — a  building  of  God 
amid  the  ruins  of  the  universe. 


DISCOURSE    LIII. 

RICHARD    WHATELY,    D.D.,    LL.O.* 

This  distinguished  prelate,  himself  the  son  of  a  clergyman  of  note  (the  Rev.  Dr 
Whately,  of  ISTousuch  Park,  Surrey),  was  born  in  1789.  The  youngest  of  a  family 
of  nine  children,  he  received,  nevertheless,  all  the  advantages  which  the  limited 
income  of  an  excellent  father  could  afford ;  and  commencing  his  studies  at  an  early 
age,  was,  in  due  time,  admitted  to  Oriel  College,  Oxford — a  school  famous  for  hav- 
ing sent  out  some  of  the  most  distinguished  thinkers  of  the  present  generation, 
among  whom  are  Arnold,  Copleston,  Newman,  and  others.  Having  completed  liis 
education,  he  was,  in  1811,  elected  a  fellow  of  this  college,  and  thus  put  in  posses- 
sion of  a  yearly  stipend,  sufficient  for  his  necessities,  but  guarantied  to  him  only  so 
long  as  he  remained  unmarried.  Subsequently  he  received  the  appointment  of 
college  tutor,  the  duties  of  which  he  performed  for  several  years.  Marrying  in 
1821,  he  lost  the  benefits  of  his  fellowship,  but  by  the  influence  of  an  uncle,  obtained 
the  rectory  of  Halesworth,  which  yielded  him  an  income  of  £450  per  annum.  In 
1825,  Lord  Granville,  Chancellor  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  appointed  him  Pres- 
ident of  St  Alban's  Hall,  where  he  had  as  a  co-laborer,  the  distinguished  Dr.  Samuel 
Hinds,  author  of  the  "  History  of  the  Rise  and  Early  Progress  of  Christianity,"  as  well 
as  of  other  learned  works.  In  1830,  he  was  elected  by  the  University  Professor  of 
Political  Economy,  and  during  the  following  year  was  consecrated  Archbishop  of 
Dublin,  and  Bishop  of  Glendalagh. 

As  an  archbishop  of  the  English  Church,  he  is  entitled  to  a  seat  in  the  House  of 
Peers ;  and  here,  though  ever  ready  to  perform  his  duty,  he  has  constantly  avoided 
party  strife,  and  thus  maintained  the  manly  independence  and  noble  impartiality  of 
his  character.  Whenever  questions  have  arisen  which  imposed  upon  him  the  duty 
of  speaking,  he  has  never  hesitated  either  to  combat  or  to  defend  the  ministry. 

The  elevation  of  Dr.  Whately  to  the  Episcopal  dignity  was,  doubtless,  due  to  his 
writings,  which  had,  for  a  long  time,  engaged  the  attention  of  the  University  of  Ox- 
ford. Unable  to  side  Avith  either  of  the  two  extreme  parties,  of  which  one  threat- 
ened to  destroy  the  English  Church  by  a  want  of  discipline,  while  the  other  seemed 
destined  to  paralyze  it  by  formality  and  priestly  rule,  he  resolved  to  exorcise  both ; 
and  the  plan  which  he  formed,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  executed  this  plan, 
deserve  to  be  remembered  by  all  the  defenders  of  the  Christian  religion.  Instead 
of  entering  the  Usts  and  provoking  the  contending  parties,  he  went  into  his  closet, 
and  with  a  sincere  love  of  truth,  and  an  humble  submission  to  the  teachings  of  the 

*  :*rost  of  the  strictly  biographical  data  of  this  sketch  have  been  translated  from  the 
profaco  of  the  Froiich  edition  of  Dr.  Whately's  "Kingdom  of  Christ,"  witten  by  M.  Reville, 
and  furnished  us  from  Dublin,  by  direction  of  the  archbishop. 


752  RICHARD    WHATELT. 

Holy  Spirit,  opened  the  Word  of  G-od ;  then,  ascending  the  pulpit  of  the  University, 
he  discoursed  in  language  clear  and  profound  upon  the  records  of  the  evangelists; 
and  the  letters  of  the  apostles.  In  the  discussion  of  the  various  themes  before  him, 
he  could  not  fail  to  encounter  the  Autinomian  exaggerations  of  the  one  party,  and 
the  clerical  pretensions  of  the  other ;  but,  without  indulging  in  any  personality,  and 
with  the  calmness  of  a  Christian  philosopher,  he  showed  that  none  of  these  things 
had  the  slightest  foundation  in  the  holy  Scriptures.  From  these  premises  he  drew, 
m  the  first  place,  this  very  wise  and  moderate  conclusion,  namely,  that  the  disciple 
of  Jesus  Cnrist  ought  to  guard  for  himself  his  interpretation  of  the  divine  Word ;  to 
persuade  others  to  adopt  it,  if  he  can,  but  never  to  enforce  it.  And,  in  the  second 
place,  that,  instead  of  reading  the  gospel  by  the  Ught  of  his  own  system,  the  servant 
of  Jesus  Christ  ought  to  examine  his  system  by  the  light  of  the  gospel ;  and  then,  to 
resolve  solemnly  to  believe  and  to  profess  pubhcly  every  thing  taught  by  the  Sa- 
viour's words. 

The  liberality  of  the  learned  prelate  aroused  the  displeasure  of  the  mere  scholas- 
tics of  the  English  Church.  He  was  accused  of  betraying  his  rehgion,  because  he 
acknowledged  Christians  of  other  denominations  as  his  brethren,  and  co-heirs  of  the 
kingdom  of  God ;  because  he  spoke  of  the  divinity  of  the  Saviour  as  spoke  the  Holy 
Spirit;  and  because  he  taught  man's  responsibility  as  well  as  man's  depravity. 
But  his  equanimity  has  never  been  disturbed  by  his  adversaries,  whose  bitterness 
affords  him  abundant  evidence  that  he  is  on  the  side  of  truth. 

The  original  form  of  most  of  the  works  of  Dr.  Whately,  which  are  very  volumi- 
nous, was  that  of  discourses,  delivered  either  from  the  desk  of  the  University,  or  from 
the  different  pulpits  in  which  he  officiated.  Besides  his  "  Lectures  on  Political  Econ- 
omy," his  "  Elements  of  Logic,"  and  his  "  Elements  of  Rhetoric,"  he  has  contributed 
Largely  to  the  departments  of  theology  and  moral  science.  Some  of  his  works  have 
been  translated  into  several  of  the  languages  of  Europe.  In  addition  to  those 
already  mentioned,  the  best  known  are :  '"  Essays  on  some  of  the  Peculiarities  of 
the  Christian  Religion  ;"  "  Essays  on  the  writings  of  St.  Paul;"  "  Essays  on  the  Er- 
rors of  Romanism ;"  "  Sermons  on  various  Subjects;"  "  Charges  and  other  Tracts;" 
"Essays  on  Dangers  to  the  Christian  Faith;"  "The  Use  and  Abuse  of  Party  Feel- 
ing in  Matters  of  Religion ;"  "  The  Kingdom  of  Christ  Dehneated ;"  "  Easy  Lessons 
in  Reasoning ;"  etc.,  etc. 

The  writings  of  Dr.  Whately  are  uniformly  characterized  by  clearness  of  thought, 
and  precision  and  transparency  of  style.  If  one  would  not  indorse  all  his  senti- 
ments, with  the  slightest  attention  he  may,  at  least,  comprehend  them.  The  follow- 
ing very  able  discourse  has  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  his  best.  It  is  inserted 
■with  the  sanction  of  the  archbishop. 


THE  NAME  IMMANUEL. 


"They  shall  call  his  name  Immanuel:  which,  being  interpreted,  is,  God  with  us."— Mat- 
thew, i.  23. 

This  prophecy  of  Isaiah,  which  the  Evangehst  brings  forward  as  hav- 
ing reference  to  the  birth  of  our  blessed  Saviour,  is  the  more  especially- 
remarkable  from  the  circumstance  that  it  was  7iot  fulfilled  in  that  sense 


THE    NAME    IMMANUEL.  753 

which,  to  an  English  reader,  the  exj^ression  would  seem  naturally  to 
bear.  The  name  given  to  him  was,  we  know,  not  Imraanuel,  but  (by 
the  express  direction  of  the  angel)  Jesus,  signifying  Saviour.  And  yet 
neither  the  Evangelist  himself,  who  records  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  then 
adduces  the  proj^hecy,  nor  any  of  the  sacred  writers,  has  thought  it 
necessary  to  explain  this  circumstance.  None  of  them  notice  as  seem- 
ingly at  variance  with  the  words  of  the  prophet,  or,  in  any  waj^  at  all 
remarkable,  our  Lord's  not  literally  bearing  the  very  name  Immanuel. 

In  this,  as  in  most  other  points  of  difficulty,  Scripture  will  explain 
itself.  You  will  be  at  no  loss  to  account  for  the  circumstance.  I  have 
mentioned,  if  you  will  refer  to,  some  of  those  numerous  passages  both  in 
the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  in  which  the  word  "  name"  is  employed 
according  to  the  then  common  usage ;  not  in  the  precise  and  literal 
sense  which  it  now  bears  among  us ;  but  to  denote  manifestation  of 
divine  potcer^  or  revelation  of  divine  xrAll^  by  a  special  communication. 
You  will  meet  with  a  multitude  of  expressions  in  Scripture  which  would 
be  unintelligible,  or  very  obscurely  and  imperfectly  intelligible,  to  any 
one  who  did  not  keep  this  in  mind.  In  such  expressions  (and  they  are 
exceedingly  frequent)  as  "  calling  on  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  praising, 
blessing,  magnifying  "  the  name  of  the  Loi'd,"  etc.,  to  an  English 
reader,  not  familiar  with  Scripture,  the  word  "  name'''  would  be  likely 
to  ai)pear  supei-fluous.  When  again  we  are  forbidden  in  the  third  com- 
mandment to  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  in  vain,  and  are  taught  in  the 
Lord's  Prayer  to  pray  that  God's  name  may  be  hallowed,  such  a  reader 
might  be  apt  to  understand  this  as  applying  merely  to  the  very  name 
of  God,  literally,  and  to  nothing  else ;  though  the  word  certainly  ought 
to  be  understood  as  extending  to  the  holy  Scriptures — to  the  sacra- 
ments— and,  in  short,  to  every  thing  connected  with  the  worship  of  the 
Lord  our  God.  To  such  a  reader,  again,  the  expression  of  overthrowing 
enemies,  or  performing  any  other  mighty  Avork,  "  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord,"  would  be  even  misunderstood  ;  as  it  would  seem  to  signify, 
merely  pvofessinr)  to  act  in  the  Lord's  service ;  whereas  it  is  plain  from 
the  context,  that  these,  and  other  such  phrases,  denote  the  performance 
of  the  works  through  actual  divine  assistance — not  only  with  the  in- 
vocation,  but  through  the  actual  dis])lay  and  manifestation  of  divine 
power.  When  again  our  Lord  Jesus  says  of  himself,  "  I  am  come  in 
my  Father's  name,  and  ye  receive  me  not ;  if  another  shall  come  in  his 
own  name,  him  ye  will  receive,"  it  is  plain  he  did  not  mean  that  the 
fiilse  Christ,  whom  the  Jews  that  had  rejected  Jesus,  folIoAved,  would 
not,  in  our  sense  of  the  phrase,  come  in  his  Father's  name  ;  i.  e.,  pro 
fessing  and  claiming,  as  he  did,  to  be  sent  from  God.  But,  by  "  coming 
in  his  Father's  name,"  he  plainly  means,  coming  supported  by  a  mani' 
festation  of  divine  power,  through  which  he  wrought  sensible  miracles. 
"  The  works,"  said  he,  "  that  I  do  in  my  Father's  name"  (i.  e.,  by  divine 
power)  "  they  bear  witness  of  me."     Others  would  come  hereafter  in 

48 


754  RICHARD    WHATELT. 

their  own  "  names ;"  i.  e.,  though  i:)retending  to  be  sent  from  God,  yet 
manifesting  no  power  beyond  the  natural  ability  of  man — requiring  to 
be  believed  on  their  own  bare  assertion,  instead  of  appealing  to  (what  is 
in  Scrij)ture  called  the  "  name  of  God")  a  display  of  divine  interference. 

\Yhen  again  the  Israelites  are  enjoined,  in  the  Mosaic  Law,  to  oifer 
their  sacrifices,  not  in  all  places  indiscriminately,  but  in  the  place  which 
the  Lord  should  "  choose  to  set  his  name  there,"  the  meaning  plainly  is, 
that,  at  the  tabernacle  first,  and  afterward  at  Solomon's  temple,  the 
Lord  would  manifest  himself — would  be,  what  we  call,  especially  j^rcsent 
— hearing  prayer,  accepting  sacrifices,  and  dehvering  oracles. 

Hence  it  is  that  there  is  a  correspondence  between  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  that  temple  ;  which  he  himself  expressly  alluded  to  wdien 
he  described  his  death  and  resurrection,  as  a  destroying  and  re-build- 
ing, after  three  days,  of  the  temple ;  viz.,  says  the  Apostle  John,  "  the 
temple  of  his  body."  And  as  the  temple  at  Jerusalem  is  spoken  of  as 
the  place  which  the  Lord  should  "  choose,  to  cause  his  name  to  dwell 
there  ;"  so  of  the  promised  Messiah,  it  is  said  (evidently  in  a  corre- 
sponding sense),  that  his  "  name  should  be,  '  God  vnth  us  p  "  and,  again, 
that  his  "  name  should  be  called  (according  to  Jeremiah)  the  Lord  our 
righteousness;"  and  yet  again  (according  to  Isaiah),  that  his  name 
should  "  be  called  Wonderful,  Counselor,  the  mighty  God,  the  everlast- 
ing Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace  ;"  all  which  expressions  being  conform- 
able to  the  established  phraseology  x)f  the  Jews,  were  readily  imderstood 
to  mean,  that,  as  in  the  temple  of  Jerusalem,  so,  in  the  promised  Christ 
or  Messiah,  there  should  be  an  especial  indwelling  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence and  power;  that  in  him  should  be  a  manifestation  of  God's 
"  might"  and  "  wonderful  works,"  and  through  him  proclamation  of 
God's /a^AejVy  kindness,  and  an  offer  of  "^^eace"  with  mankind.  Their 
customary  use  of  the  words  "  name"  and  "  called"  conveyed  this  sense 
to  them.  The  only  question  ^vith  them  was,  whether  Jesus  of  Nazareth 
w^ere  the  person  to  whom  these  prophecies  applied,  and  in  whom  the 
Lord  God  had  thus  manifested  himself.  They  were  all  more  or  less 
startled  and  revolted  ("  offended,"  as  the  Evangelists  express  it)  at  his 
not  coming  forward  with  temporal  power  and  splendor,  as  they- had 
expected  ;  but  (as  you  may  observe  in  confirmation  of  what  I  have  been 
saying)  none  of  them  seem  to  have  been  at  all  in  expectation  that  he 
would  literally,  in  one  sense,  bear  the  "  name  of  Immanuel,"  and  to  have 
made  it  a  matter  of  surprise  or  objection  that  he  did  not. 

And  you  may  observe  that  when  the  question  was  debated  between 
tlie  believers  and  the  unbelievers  in  Jesus,  the  same  kind  of  language  was 
employed.  Our  Lord  himself  bid  his  discijtles  go  forth,  after  his  ascen- 
sion, and  make  converts  to  his  religion,  "  baptizing  them  "  (not  in,  the 
name,  as  it  appears  in  our  ti-anslation,  but)  "  into  the  name  of  the  Father, 
and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"  which  is  often  spoken  of,  simply, 
as  "  baptizuig  them  into  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus ;"  enlisting  them, 


THE    NAME    IMMANUEL.  755 

that  is,  into  his  service,  and  receiving  their  confession  that  God  had  thus 
manifested  or  declared  himself  in  him.  This  kind  of  language  was,  of 
course,  equally  inteUiglble  to  believers  and  unbelievers,  much  as  they 
differed  as  to  X\\efact.  We  find  the  chief  priests  using  it  when  they  for- 
bade the  apostle  to  speak  to  any  man  "in  his  name;"  they  having  just 
before  commanded  a  lame  man  to  "  rise  and  walk,  hi  the  name  of  Jesus 
of  Nazareth  ;"  and  having  declared  before  the  assembly,  that  "  there  is 
no  other  name  given  under  heaven,  whereby  we  must  be  saved."  Now 
it  is  plain  there  could  be  no  miraculous  virtue  in  the  sound  of  the  name, 
but  in  the  divine  power  and  manifestation  of  God  in  Jesus.  There  seems 
every  reason  to  suppose  that  this  employment  of  the  word  "  name"  (or 
"  title,"  as  it  might  naore  strictly  be  rendered)  arose  from  the  custom  of 
persons  assuming,  or  having  applied  to  them,  a  title,  alluding  to  some  re- 
markable action  or  quiility  ;  thence,  the  word  "  name"  came  to  be  used 
to  denote  the  very  performance  of  that  action,  or  the  possession  of  that 
quality,  which  had  given  rise  to  tlie  appellation  ;  and,  finally,  it  was  thus 
used  even  when  the  appellation  was  not  actually  borne ;  as,  for  histance, 
"  the  Lord  thy  God  who  is  a  jealous  God,"  and,  "  the  Lord,  Avhose 
name  is  Jealous,"  were  understood  as  equivalent  expressions. 

But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  custom,  you  will  find  it 
very  useful,  toward  the  right  understanding  of  Scripture,  to  familiarize 
your  mind,  by  examining  various  j^assages  (of  which  you  will  find  many 
more  than  I  have  cited),  to  the /act,  that  the  word  is  thus  used,  and  oi*- 
dinarily  used,  by  the  sacred  writers,  to  denote  any  especial  manifestation 
of  God's  presence  and  power,  and  immediate  communication  with  man, 
and  revelation  of  his  will  to  us.  And  you  will  find  such,  an  examination 
will,  if  carefully  conducted,  with  the  aid  of  no  greater  reflection  than  the 
plainest  Christian,  guided  by  God's  Holy  Spirit,  is  equal  to,  gradually 
throw  light  on  many  important  passages  which  Avould  otherwise  be 
either  very  obscure,  or  liable  to  be  mistaken.  It  will,  for  example, 
throw  much  light  on  the  true  character  of  that  great  Person,  whose 
coming  into  the  world  we  this  day  celebi'ate. 

And  on  this  pohit  I  shall  proceed  to  ofier  a  few  observations.  Let  us 
unite  in  the  prayer  which  he  offered  up  for  us  and  his  other  disciples  to 
the  Father,  "  that  we  may  knoto  him  the  only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ 
whom  he  hath  sent." 

All  Christians  are  agreed  that  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was,  in  some  way  or 
other,  the  promised  Immanuel ;  that  in  some  sense,  and  in  some  degree 
or  other,  "  God  was  ^vith  him,"  and  was  "  declared,"  or  manifested,  in 
and  by  him ;  that  he  was  called  the  Christ,  Messiah,  or  Anointed,  as 
being  in  some  especial  manner  "anointed"  (as  the  Apostle  Peter  ex- 
presses it)  "with  the  Holy  Ghost  and  with  power;  he  himself  having 
applied  to  himself  the  prophecy — "The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me 
because  he  hath  anointed  me  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor."  And 
many  intricate  and  fruitless  metaphysical  questions  have  been  debated 


756  RICHARD    WHATELY. 

among  different  sects  of  Christians,  as  to  the  divine  nature  of  our  Lord, 
and  the  manner  of  the  union  between  the  deity  and  a  man ;  the  parties 
engaged  in  these  questions  being  too  often  hurried  into  presumptuous,  as 
well  as  unprofitable,  speculations,  on  points  as  flxr  beyond  the  reach  of 
tke  human  intellect  as  colors  to  a  man  born  blind,  and  forgetting  that 
the  miion  of  the  soul  and  the  body  of  any  one  among  us,  can  neither  be 
explained  nor  comprehended  by  himself,  or  any  others,  and  apjDears  the 
more  mysterious  the  more  we  reflect  on  it. 

The  chief  practical  and  intelligible  question  for  Christians  to  decide,  as 
to  this  matter,  is,  simply,  whether  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  (supposing  it 
admitted,  I  mean,  that  there  is  but  one  God)  properly  an  object  of  di- 
vine worship^  or  not. 

We  know  that,  in  a  certain  manner,  God  was  with  Moses  (to  whom 
he  said,  "  Certainly  I  will  be  with  thee"),  and  with  the  other  prophets, 
who  were  all  called  "  men  of  God,"  and  all  of  whom,  though  in  various 
degrees,  received  immediate  communications  from  him  ;  and  most  of 
them,  at  least  (probably  all),  were  endued  with  a  divine  power  of  working 
sensible  miracles  ;  yet  none  of  these  claimed  or  received  any  divine  woi'- 
ship.  No  one  adored  God  as  manifested  in  Moses ;  and  Peter,  who 
had  wrought  so  many  miracles,  when  the  centurion  Cornelius  seemed 
disposed  so  to  adore  him,  forbade  him,  ''  saying,  '  Stand  up  ;  I  myself  also 
am  a  man !' "  Now,  the  question  is,  whether  God  was  with  Jesus  of 
Nazareth,  only  as  with  a  most  eminent  proj^het,  or  in  some  such  manner 
as  authorized  and  requires  us  to  icorsldp  God  in  Christ.  Those  who  deny 
Christ  this  worship,  and  1-epresent  him  as  only  the  greatest  among  the 
prophets,  charge  us  with  idolatry,  as  paying  divine  adoration  where  it  is 
not  due. 

To  this  it  is  sometimes  answered,  that  even  supposing  us  erroneous  in 
our  notion  of  Christ's  person,  still  we  ought  not  lo  be  charged  with  idol 
atry,  inasmuch  as  we  intend  to  direct  our  worship  to  the  one  true  God, 
and  not  a  man,  as  man,  or  to  any  angel  or  other  created  being.  But  this 
answer,  though  it  repels  the  charge  as  far  as  the  first  commandment  is 
concerned,  does  not  clear  any  one  in  regard  to  the  second  ;  and  many  of 
the  idolaters  among  the  Israelites  might  have  defended  themselves,  and 
most  likely  did,  on  the  same  ground.  Those,  indeed,  who  worshiped  Baal 
and  the  other  gods  of  the  heathen,  did  intend  to  direct  their  worship  to 
some  different  being  from  Jehovah ;  but  the  worshipers  of  the  golden 
calf  in  the  wilderness,  and  of  those  set  up  in  Bethel  and  Dan  long  after, 
and  most  probably,  also,  those  who  burned  mcense  to  the  brazen  serpent, 
intended  to  worship,  in  these  emblems,  the  Lord,  the  God  of  Israel ;  as, 
indeed,  we  may  judge  from  the  expression  used,  ""These  be  thy  gods,  O 
Israel,  who  brought  thee  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt:''  And-  these  two  sins, 
the  breach  of  the  first  and  of  the  second  commandments,  are  frequently 
and  strongly  distinguished  in  the  Old  Testament  history ;  as,  e.  g.,  in 
the  case  of  Jehu  who  is  recorded  as  ilaving  destroyed  Baal  out  of  Israel. 


THE    NiilE    IM  MAN  UAL.  .    75'7' 

yet  as  "  not  departing  from  the  sin  of  Jeroboam,  to  wit,  the  golden  calves 
in  Bethel  and  in  Dan." 

In  this,  and  in  several  other  cases  that  are  recorded,  there  .was  no 
breach  of  the  first  commandment,  but  only  of  the  second ;  viz.,  by  the 
worship  of  the  true  God  in  some  unauthorized  image,  emblem,  or  repre- 
sentation, in  which  the  worshipers  falsely  and  superstitiously  supposed 
some  such  divine  presence  to  reside,  as  made  it  a  fit  object  of  adoration. 
For  it  should  be  remembered  (and  this,  though  evident,  on  a  moment's 
reflection,  is  often  lost  sight  of),  it  should  be  remembered,  I  say,  that 
some,  even  the  most  brutish  idolaters,  ever  coidd  worship  a  block  of 
wood  or  stone,  as  mere  wood  and  stone.  Whether  man  pays  divine 
adoration  to  an  image,  or  a  piece  of  bread,  or  a  fire,  it  is  plainly  implied 
by  the  very  act  of  adoration  that  he  supposes  it  to  be  something  more 
than  a  lifeless  image,  or  a  piece  of  bread,  or  a  fire ;  he  must  conceive, 
whether  thlsely  or  truly,  that  some  divine  (or,  at  least,  spiritual  and 
superhuman)  power  resides  in  the  image,  or  is  in  some  manner  connected 
with  it. 

To  worship  a  stone,  considering  it  as  merely  a  stone,  is  not  only  impos- 
sible, but  inconceivable,  unmeaning,  and  selfcontradictory.  The  vio- 
lation, therefore,  of  the  second  commandment  must  consist  in  attributing 
falsely,  and  without  being  authorized,  some  such  divine  presence  to  some 
being  or  object  to  which  it  does  not  properly,  and  by  divine  appointment, 
belong, 

"Hence,  the  very  same  act  may  be  idolatrous,  or  not,  according  as  this 
divine  appomtment  is  wanting,  or  not.  For  instance,  when  God  first-  re- 
vealed himself  to  Moses  in  the  wilderness,  in  the  appearance  of  a  flame 
of  fire  blazing  from  the  bush,  he  was  commanded  to  "  put  off"  his  shoes 
from  his  feet"  (the  customary  mark  of  reverence  still  in  the  East),  be- 
cause the  place  Avhereon  he  stood  was  "  holy  ground  ;"  and  the  Lord 
spake  to  Moses  from  this  flame,  and  Moses  there  "  fell  on  his  face  and 
worshi})ed."  Now,  if  Moses  had,  either  before  or  afterward,  himself 
kindled  a  fire  and  worshiped  before  it,  as  a  suitable  emblem  of  the  Lord, 
and  as  having  the  same  divine  presence  in  it,  he  would  clearly  have  been 
guilty  of  idolatry ;  an  idolatry  which  Avas,  in  fact,  long  practiced,  and 
still  is,  by  some  of  the  Persians,  and  which  had  its  origin,  probably,  in 
the  traditions  respecting  these  real  manifestations  of  God.  The  diflerence 
between  the  worship  which  Moses  paid,  and  that  of  the  idolatrous  fire- 
Avorshipcrs,  is  a  diflerence  as  to  a  matter  o?  fact ;  in  the  one  case,  the 
manifestation  of  the  deity  was  reed ;  in  the  other,  an  unauthorized  and 
})resnmptu()us  fancy.  Moses,  no  doubt,  was  aware,  as  we  are,  that 
"God"  (as  the  CTangelist  John  expresses  it)  "no  man  hath  seen  at  any 
time ;"  but  he  considered  God  as  revealing  himself  and  holding  commu- 
nication through  the  means  of  the  visible  appearance  of  the  supernatural 
flame.  This  miraculous  flame  (or  '■'■glory  of  the  Lord,"  as  it  is  often 
called  in  Scripture)  continued  to  appear  from  a  cloudy  pillar,  as  a  visible 


758  RICHARD    WHATELY. 

guardian  and  conductor  of  the  Israelites  ;  and  from  its  being  the  means 
of  communication  between  the  Lord  and  them,  is  thence  repeate  lly 
called  the  Angel  (i.  e,,  messenger)  of  the  Lord.  E.  g.,  (Ex.,  xiv.  19,  20.) 
"  The  angel  of  the  Lord  which  went  before  the  camp  of  Israel,  removed 
and  went  behind  them  ;  and  the  pillar  of  the  cloud  went  from  before 
their  face,  and  stood  behind  them;  and  it  came  between  the  camp  of  the 
Egyptians  and  the  camp  of  Israel ;  and  it  was  a  cloud  and  darkness  to 
them,  but  it  gave  light  by  night  to  these."  And  it  is  worth  observing 
that  the  word  Angel  (or  messenger)  is  seldom  if  ever  appHed  in  the  Old 
Testament  (as  it  is  in  the  New),  to  ministering  sjiirits — persons  created 
by  the  Lord,  and  employed  in  his  service.  In  the  Old  Testament  it  is 
almost  always  applied  to  some  visible  appearance  in  which  there  was  an 
immediate  manifestation  of  the  Lord  himself  So  that  the  expressions 
of  "the  Lord,"  and  "the  Angel  of  the  Lord,"  are  frequently  used  in- 
discriminately, to  convey  the  same  sense.  Of  this  description,  you  w^ill 
find,  if  you  read  the  passages  attentively,  was  the  apiiearauce  of  the  an- 
gels to  Abraham  and  to  Lot,  in  (Genesis,  xviii.  19) ;  and  again  that  of  an 
angel  to  Balaam,  in  (Numbers,  xxii);  and  to  Manoah  and  his  wife,  in 
(Judges,  xiii) ;  and  the  same  in  other  places.  Accordingly,  in  the  Old 
Testament,  when  an  angel  is  mentioned,  we  generally  read  of  divine 
worship  being  offered  and  accepted  ;  in  the  New  Testament,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  the  angels  or  ministers  recorded  as  appearing,  divine  worship 
either  is  not  offered,  or  is  rejected.  "  See  thou  do  it  not,"  says  the 
angel  to  John  in  (Rev.,  xxii),  "for  I  am  thy  fellow-servant," 

On  the  other  hand,  in  respect  to  the  part  of  Scripture  we  have  just 
\icen  considering,  you  may  observe,  that  when  the  Lord  promises  him- 
self to  lead  the  Israelites  through  the  wilderness  into  the  jDi-omised  land, 
he  elsewhere  explains  that  he  will  do  so  by  sending  his  angel,  i.  e.,  a  sen- 
sible manifestation  of  himself,  in  which  his  power  shall  reside  and  be  dis- 
played— his  "name,"  according  to  that  use  of  the  phrase  which  I  have 
before  adverted  to  :  "  Behold  (Ex.,  xxiii.  20)  I  send  an  angel  before  thee 
to  keep  thee  in  the  way,  and  to  biing  thee  in  to  the  place  which  I  have 
prepared.  Beware  of  him,  and  obey  his  voice  ;  provoke  him  not ;  for 
he  will  not  pardon  your  transgressions;  for  my  7imne  is  in  him.  But  if 
thou  shalt  indeed  obey  his  voice,  and  do  all  that  I  speak,  then  I  will  be 
an  enemy  unto  thine  enemies,"  etc. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  earnestly  on  the  scriptural  vises  of  the  word  name 
as  api^lied  to  a  manifestation  of  divine  power,  because  the  usage  of  our 
own  language  is  so  different  that  an  inattentive  reader  will  be  very 
likely,  on  this  point,  to  miss  the  true  sense  of  the  sacred  writers ;  and, 
because,  on  the  right  fixing  of  tfe  sense  chiefly  depends,  as  it  appears  to 
me,  the  determination  of  the  must  important,  or  at  least  first,  question 
in  religion,  viz.,  tolionx  we  are  to  %co"di)p.  We  must  learn  the  nature  of 
God  and  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  if  at  all,  from  the  Scriptures  ;  not  from 
philosophical  conjectures  and  speculations  of  our  own.     And  the  Scrip 


THE     NAME     IMMAXUEL,  759 

tures  will  not  lead  us  to  the  knowledge  of  evangelical  religion,  nnlesa 
they  are  both  carefully  and  candidly  studied.  Whoever  sets  out  with  a 
favorite  theory  of  his  own,  and  then  searches  the  Scriptures  for  con- 
firmations of  it,  will  hardly  ever  fail  to  find  them.  He  will  he  ^dewing 
objects  through  a  colored  glass,  which  will  impart  its  own  tint  to  evei-y 
thing  he  looks  at.  If,  again,  you  fix  on  some  single  detached  sentence 
of  the  Bible  that  happens  to  strike  you,  and  make  this  the  guide  of  your 
belief  or  your  conduct,  without  taking  any  pains  to  ascertain  its  real 
sense  by  a  careful  examination  of  the  rest  of  Scripture,  you  may  fail  of 
the  truth,  and  flxil  through  your  o^ii  fault ;  because  you  must  be  well 
aware  that  a  single  sentence  })icked  out  from  a  conversation  or  a  letter 
of  your  own,  and  taken  entirely  by  itself,  might  convey  a  very  imperfect, 
or  even  erroneous  notion  of  your  own  sentiments. 

,  And  if  any  one  tells  you  that,  as  the  sacred  writers  addressed  tliem- 
selves  to  simple,  unlearned  men,  and  therefore  you  should  take  the  plain 
and  obvious  sense  of  what  they  say,  you  should  consider  that  this  maxim 
is  just,  only  so  long  as  you  keep  before  you  the  question,  "plain  and  ob- 
vious to  ichotn  f  To  us^  in  this  countiy,  reading  in  a  translation,  and 
at  a  distance  of  near  eighteen  centuries  ?  Or,  plain  and  obvious  to  the 
persons  Avhora  the  apostles  and  other  sacred  writers  were  actually  ad- 
dressing ?» 

No  one  can  scarcely  doubt  that  they  wrote  and  spoke  so  as  to  be 
understood  readily  by  those  around  them.  The  sense  in  which  these 
would  most  naturally  understand  them,  it  seems  reasonable  to  suppose 
must  be  the  true  sense.  And  if  in  any  points  the  customs  and  habitual 
mode  of  thinking  and  speaking  among  the  hearers  of  the  apostles  were 
diiferent  from  our  own,  this  difference  (which  the  Scriptures  themselves 
will  enable  an  attentive  reader  to  understand),  must  be  taken  into 
account  in  our  interpretation  of  what  is  said. 

To  take  an  instance  from  the  subject  we  have  been  already  treating 
of:  when  it  was  prophesied  of  the  promised  Messiah,  "they  shall  call 
liis  name  Immanuel ;"  the  plain  and  obvious  sense  of  this  passage,  to  an 
English  reader,  would  lead  him  to  expect  that  our  Lord  should  actually 
and  literally  go  by  that  name  ;  but  this  certainly  was  not  (and  I  have 
already  explained  why  it  was  not),  the  obvious  sense  of  the  passage  to 
the  readers  of  that  time  and  countiy,  and  no  one,  accordingly,  either  of 
the  followers  or  the  enemies  of  our  Lord,  seems  to  have  felt  the  smallest 
surprise  that  the  name  of  one  who  professed  to  be  the  promised  ]Messiah 
should  be,  not  Immanuel,  but  Jesus. 

Again,  when  our  Lord  distinguishes  between  himself  and  the  false 
Christs  who  should  come  after  him,  by  saying  that  whereas  he  came 
in  his  "Father's  name^''  fAey  would  come  in  their  "own  name;''''  this 
would  imjily,  in  its  obvious  sense,  to  an  English  reader,  that  while  he 
professed  to  come  from  God,  the  others  would  make  no  such  ]trofession. 
But  we  know  that  the  fact  was  not  so.     It  has  been  already  explained 


760  EICHARD     WHATELT. 

that  Avhat  he  meant,  and  was  readily  understood  to  mean,  by  those  whc 
heard  him,  was,  that  which  actually  took  place  ;  viz.,  that  the  false 
Christ  whom  the  greater  part  of  the  Jewish  nation  received,  did  not, 
though  pretending  to  be  sent  from  God,  display  the  miraculous  powers, 
and  perform  the  works  that  Jesus  did  "  in  his  Father's  name."' 

But  the  Scriptures  themselves  will,  as  I  have  said,  serve  to  ex^jlain 
their  own  meaning  in  the  most  essential  points,  if  studied  under  the 
guidance  of  God's  Holy  Spirit,  with  an  humble,  patient,  diligent,  and 
candid  mind.  And  such  a  mind,  even  without  extensive  learning  or 
great  ability,  will  be  more  enlightened  by  them  than  the  most  learned  or 
the  most  ingenious,  if  led  away  by  conceited  and  presumptuous  fancies, 
and  given  up  to  indolent  prejudice,  or  blinded  by  spiritual  pride  or  the 
spirit  of  party. 

To  apply,  then,  what  has  been  said,  to  the  great  question,  which,  as  I 
have  observed,  may,  I  thiuk,  be  settled  by  the  considerations  I  have  laid 
before  you : 

Those  who  pay  divine  worship  to  Jesus  Christ,  are,  as  I  have  said,  not 
necessarily  cleared  of  the  charge  of  sinful  idolatry,  by  the  mere  consider- 
ation that  they  intend  to  direct  their  worship  to-the  one  true  God ;  but 
they  are  cleared  if  the  Scriptures  authorize  and  enjoin  us  to  woTsliip  God 
in  Christ  /  if  we  are  taught  that  "  God  was  in  Christ,  reconciling  the 
world  unto  himself;"  if  we  are  taught,  not  merely  that  "the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  was  upon  him,"  but  that  "  God  giveth  not  the  Spirit  by  meas- 
ure unto  him,"  since  (as  the  apostle  expresses  it),  "In  him  dwelleth  all 
the  fullness  of  the  Godhead  bodily;"  if  we  are  taught,  in  short,  that  his 
name  being  called  Immanwal,  "  God  with  us,"  denotes,  according  to 
every  fair  interjDretation,  God's  having  chosen  so  to  '■'■place  his  name^^  in 
the  man  Christ  Jesus — so  to  dwell  in  him,  i.  e.,  and  to  manifest  or  declare 
himself  in  him,  as  to  be,  in  him,  properly  worshiped ;  if  all  this  be  so, 
then  are  we,  in  this  worship,  obeying  the  divine  will,  and  not  incurrmg 
the  charge  of  sinful  idolatry. 

But  why  do  I  say  sij/ful  idolatry  ?  Is  not  the  very  word  always  so 
used  as  to  imply  a  sin  ?  It  is  so ;  but  if  any  one  should  choose,  instead 
of  looking  to  common  usage,  to  turn  to  the  strict  etymological  sense  of 
the  word  "  idolater,"  and  to  ask  whether  we  are  or  are  not  "  worship- 
ers of  an  image,"  we  ought  not  without  hesitation  to  answer  that  we 
are.  No  one  ca?i  (as  I  said),  address  his  prayers  to  a  stone,  as  a  mere 
stone,  or  a  piece  of  bread,  as  no  more  than  bread  ;  nor  can  pay  divine 
adoration  to  a  mere  man,  whom  he  himself  considered  as  no  more  than 
a  man  :  in  all  cases  he  can  not  but  direct  his  worship  to  some  divine 
virtue  or  presence,  which  he  supposes  (whether  with  or  without  good 
reason)  to  reside  in  the  object  of  his  worship.  To  presume  to  do  this  in 
any  case,  Avithout  the  divine  appomtment,  is  the  sin  of  idolatry  offensive 
to  the  "jealous  God."  But  we  worship  God  in  his  beloved  Son,  in 
whom,  the  Scriptures  teach  us,  "  it  hath  pleased  the  Father  that  all  fuU 


THE    NAME    IMMANUEL.  >jQi 

ness  should  dwell ;"  "  througli  whom  we  have  access  to  the  Fatlier ;" 
and  through  him  alone;  for  "I"  (said  he  himself)  "am  the  way,  and  no 
man  cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me,"  "  Have  I  been  so  long  with 
you"  (says  he  again)  "  and  hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip  ?  He  that 
hath  seen  me,  hath  seen  the  Father.  Believest  thou  not  that  I  am  in 
the  Father,  and  the  Father  in  me  ?  and  how  sayest  thou  then,  show  us 
the  Father  ?" 

We  differ,  then,  from  the  -worshipers  of  any  mere  man,  whether  an 
impostor,  as  Mohammed,  for  instance,  or  a  saint,  as  Moses  or  Peter,  or  of 
a  graven  image,  or  of  a  fire,  or  of  any  thing  else  that  they  have  set  up 
for  themselves  ;  we  differ  from  them,  I  say,  in  this,  the  essential  circum- 
stance, that  their  worship  is  unauthorized,  presumptuous,  and  vain,  while 
ours  is  divinely  appointed  ;  theT/  "  worship  they  know  not  what ;  we 
know  what  we  worship."  But  the  Jcmd  of  adoration  which  idolaters  pay 
to  then-  images,  so  far  corresponds  to  the  Christian's,  to  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  that  we  might  very  reasonably  and  intelUgibly  describe  him  by 
that  term,  even  if  we  had  not,  as  we  have,  the  express  authority  of  one 
of  his  own  apostles  for  doing  so.  Paul,  in  the- epistle  to  the  Colossians, 
distinctly  calls  him,  "  the  image  of  the  invisible  God  :"  using  in  this 
place  the  word  (einuv)  which  is  commonly  emi:)loyed  for  an  "  image." 
When  again,  to  the  Hebrews,  he  calls  hun  the  "  brightness  of  God's 
glory,"  alluding  evidently  to  the  radiant  flame  by  which  the  Lord  had 
been  accustomed  to  manifest  his  presence  of  old,  "and  the  express 
image  of  his  person  :"  the  word  rendered  "  express  image"  (xapaKrrjp), 
denotes  a  stamp,  or  impress — any  thing  imprinted,  as  the  form  of  a  seal 
is,  on  wax. 

Of  course  he  could  not  mean  that  the  visible  body  of  Christ,  or  any 
other  visible  thing,  could  be  literally  an  image  or  resemblance  of  the 
ifivisible  God.  He  must  have  meant,  that  our  Lord's  human  life  and 
character  on  earth,  give  us  the  best  representation  we  are  capable  of 
receiving  of  the  divine  greatness  and  goodness  ;  even  as  a  statue,  though 
it  have  not  real  flesh  and  blood,  as  a  man  has,  conveys  to  us  a  notion  of 
his  outward  appearance.  But  did  he  not  also,  beside  this,  mean  a  great 
deal  more  ?  An  image,  or  picture  of  any  one  we  are  acquainted  with, 
may  remind  us  of  his  person,  and  may,  for  that  reason,  be  cherished  with 
regard ;  but  we  should  never  think  of  conversing  with,  or  expecting  it 
to  speak  or  act  in  any  way.  Nor  would  the  heathen  idolaters  have  said 
to  a  graven  image,  "  Deliver  me,  for  thou  art  my  god,"  if  they  had  not 
erroneously  imagined  some  s})iritual  power  to  reside  in  it ;  that  the  god 
it  represented  had  (in  the  scriptural  expression)  caused  his  name  to 
dwell  there.  Now,  Jesus,  himself^  describes  himself  (as  do  his  aj)Ostles), 
as  not  only  conveying  to  us  a  notion  of  the  Father's  character,  but  as 
possessing  the  Father's  power,  offices,  and  attributes,  and  claiming  the 
honor  due  to  the  Father  :  "All  power"  (said  he)  "is  given  unto  me  in 
heaven  and  in  earth."     "The  Father  judgeth  no  man,  but  hath  conunit- 


752  RICHARD     WHATELT. 

ted  all  judgment  unto  the  Son,  that  all  men  should  honor  the  So7i,  even 
as  they  honor  the  Father,"  Surely,  therefore,  Paul,  in  speaking  of  this 
"  image  of  the  invisible  God,"  must  have  been  understood  as  of  an  image 
m  which  that  God  was  to  be  adored. 

And  this  will  be  the  more  evident  if  you  consider  what  sort  of  notion 
such  expressions  would  naturally  convey  to  those  paiticular  persons 
Avhom  the  apostle  is  addressing.  They  were  surrounded  by,  and  familiar 
with,  idolaters — men  who  were  accustomed  to  Avorship  images,  in  which 
resided  (as  they  imagined)  some  present  deity — some  celestial  power, 
which  could  listen  to  their  prayers  ! 

Would  not,  therefore,  one  of  Paul's  converts  conclude,  from  his  lan- 
guage, that  Christ  was  the  one  authoiized  image  of  the  true  God,  ap- 
pointed to  receive  that  worship  which  the  heathen  superstitiously  paid 
to  images  made  with  their  own  hands  ?  Such  an  interj)retation  they 
could  not  have  failed  to  put  on  his  words ;  and  what  is  more,  he  must 
have  been  sure  that  the  v'orld  so  understood  him,  unless  he  took  care 
to  put  in  an  express  caution  against  it,  and  to  warn  them  that  Christ 
was  not  to  be  an  object  of  worship.  Bid  he,  then,  give  any  such  cau- 
tion ?  So  tar  from  it,  that  he  takes  vaiious  occasions  to  say  the  direct 
contrary.  For  instance,  he  says  (as  plainly  as  he  could  say  it,  according 
to  that  use  of  the  word  "  name,"  which  has  been  already  explained) 
that  the  manifestation  of  God  in  Jesus  Christ  is  not  only  superior  to 
any  other  ever  made  before,  but  is  such  as  to  demand  divine  worship. 
"  God,"  says  he,  "hath  given  him  a  name  which  is  above  every  name, 
that  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven, 
and  things  in  earth,  and  things  under  the  earth."  It  is  chiefly  from  this 
passage,  I  conceive,  that  tl\e  custom  arose  of  making  an  outward  ges- 
ture of  reverence  when  the  name  of  Jesus  is  pronounced.  When  this 
external  homage  to  the  sound  of  the  word  serves  to  remind  us  of  the 
inward  and  real  veneration  due  to  the  divine  manifestation  in  our  Lord, 
the  custom  is  useful.  But  it  is  absurd  and  hurtful,  when  (as  I  fear  is 
often  the  case)  the  outward  reverence  for  the  name  is  made  the  substi- 
tute for  an  inward  reverence  for  the  person  of  Jesus  ;  Avhen  we  imagine 
that  we  obey  the  direction  of  the  apostle  by  literally  bending  the  body, 
when  the  literal  name  of  Jesus  is  uttered.  By  his  name  is  meant  (as  has 
been  already  fully  explained  to  you),  much  more  than  the  mere  sound 
of  the  word  ;  and  by  the  bending  of  the  knee  is  meant  (as  the  apostle's 
hearers  must  have  well  understood)  the  religious  veneration  of  the 
heart  toward  him  w^ho  is  "  one  with  the  Father,"  and  "  ui  whom  God 
W'as,  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself." 

The  hearei-s  of  the  apostles,  then,  were,  by  them  (it  is  plain)  not 
:nci-ely  left,  but  led,  to  be,  in  this  sense,  worsliipers  of  an  image — the 
one  divinely-appointed  and  authorized  image.  Nor  did  the  apostles 
merely  teucJb  them  thus  to  worship  God  in  Christ,  but  set  them  the 
example. 


THE    XAME     IMMANUEL.  7^3 

There  are,  indeed,  very  few  Christian  prayers  expressly  recorded  in 
Scripture  ;  but  fi'om  these  few,  it  should  seem  that  our  Lord's  disciplea 
understood  his  injunction  to  them,  to  pray  to  the  Father  in  his  ncnne,  as 
meaning  that  they  were  to  address  their  jyrai/ei'S  directly  to  Christ,  and 
jDray  to  God  in  him.  This,  indeed,  if  you  consider  what  has  been  said 
on  the  use  of  the  Avord  name,  is  what  we  might  naturally  have  sujjposed 
loould  be  their  interpretation  of  the  command  of  God  to  ask  of  God  in 
Christ's  name  ;  i.  e.,  of  God  as  manifested  in  Christ  for  the  redemption  of 
the  world.  And  the  few  instances  that  are  recorded,  go  to  confirm  this. 
Keeping  in  mind  that  the  title  of  "  the  Lord"  is  that  which  the  Christ- 
ians constantly  applied  to  Jesus  Christ,  look  at  the  prayer  recorded  in 
the  beginning  of  Acts,  where  they  apply  to  him  who  had  in  person 
chosen  each  of  the  apostles  to  fill  up  for  himself  the  number  left  deficient 
by  the  apostacy  of  Judas.  They  do  not  say  "  Our  Father,  Ave  pray 
thee,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  fill  up  the  number  of  his  apostles," 
but  they  apply  themselves  to  him  direct;  saying,  " Thou,  Lord,  who 
knowest  the  hearts  of  all  men  {mpdioyvcjaa),  shoAV  Avhether  of  these  two 
thou  hast  chosen." 

Again,  look  to  the  dying  prayer  of  the  blessed  martyr,  Stephen,  whose 
birth-day  to  immortal  life  Ave  celebrate  to-morrow.  His  prayers  are  an 
evident  imitation  of  those  of  his  crucified  Master.  Yet  he  does  not  use 
the  same  invocation  of  Father,  but  addresses  himself  direct  to  Christ. 
Our  Lord  had  said,  Avhen  his  enemies  were  nailing  him  to  the  cross, 
"  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  knoAV  not  Avhat  they  do ;"  and  again, 
when  about  to  expire,  "  Father,  into  thy  hands  I  commend  my  Spirit." 
Stephen,  in  manifest  imitation  of  iiim,  says,  "  Lord,  lay  not  this  sin  to 
their  charge  ;"  and  again,  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit."  It  is  phiin, 
that  these  persons,  if  they  designed  at  all  (as  they  surely  did)  to  obey 
the  injunction  of  praying  to  the  Father  in  Christ's  name,  must  have 
supposed  themselves  to  be  conforming  to  it,  by  praying  immediately  to 
Christ.  It  Avould  perhaps  be  too  much  to  assert  positively  that  they 
prayed  usually  in  this  form,  and  seldom  in  any  other ;  but  it  is  plain 
that,  according  to  their  vicAvs,  such  might  have  been  their  usual  prac- 
tice ;  and,  I  believe,  not  above  one  instance  of  a  departure  from  it  is 
recorded.  It  is  remarkable,  too,  that  of  the  same  character  is  the  oldest, 
or  one  of  the  oldest,  of  all  the  prjiyers  for  general  use,  that  have  come 
down  to  us  composed  by  an  uninspired  Christian;  that  of  the  celebrated 
Clirysostom,  retained  in  our  service.  It  is  addressed  to  Christ  himself, 
Avith  the  title  of  "  Almighty  God,"  and  Avith  an  allusion  to  his  promise, 
to  be  prese^it  in  the  midst  of  his  disciples,  and  that  they  should  obtain 
Avhat  they  sliould  agree  to  ask  in  a  connnon  (or  joint)  supplication, 
Avhen  assembled  in  his  name — "  Almighty  God,  avIio  hast  given  us  grace, 
at  this  time,  AA'ith  one  accord  to  make  our  common  sup})lleation  unio 
thee  ;  and  dost  promise,  that  Avhen  two  or  three  are  gathered  together 
in  thy  name,  thou  Avilt  grant  their  request ;  fuljSll  noAV,  O  Lord,  the  de* 


764  RICHARD    WHATELT. 

sires  and  petitions  of  thy  servants,  as  may  be  most  expedient  for  tbem ; 
granting  us  in  this  world  knowledge  of  thy  truth,  and  in  the  world  to 
come  life  everlasting." 

Do  not,  then  (I  would  observe  in  conclusion) — do  not  forget  that  he 
"  through  whom  we  have  access  to  the  Fathei-,"  is  still  with  us  ;  and 
■ndll  be,  as  he  has  promised,  "  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world."  His 
bodily  presence,  indeed,  is  withdrawn  ;  which,  as  he  declared,  is  "  ex- 
pedient for  us ;"  since  that  bodily  presence  could  not  be  enjoyed  by 
numbers  of  disciples,  at  once,  and  in  various  places ;  but  he  has  promised 
to  be  with  us  by  his  Spirit,  wherever,  and  whenever,  a  congregation, 
even  of  two  or  three,  "  are  gathered  together  in  his  name.''^  "  There," 
said  he,  "  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them."  Draw  near  to  him,  then,  in 
faith,  and  bow  the  knees  of  your  hearts  before  him ;  remembering  that 
though  you  see  him  not  with  your  eyes,  he  has  j^romised  to  "  manifest 
himself  unto  every  one  that  will  love  him  and  keep  his  commandments." 
"  If  a  man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words,  and  my  Father  will  love 
him ;  we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our  abode  with  him." 

Shall  we  now  accordingly,  my  Christian  brethren  (gathered  together 
as  we  are  in  Christ's  name),  "  agree  touching  something  we  shall  ask," 
and  which  he  has  promised  "  shall  be  given  us  by  the  Father,  who  is  in 
heaven  ?"  But  we  must  ask  something  that  we  are  sure  will  be  suitable 
for  us.  For  in  many  cases  we  know  not  what  is  truly  for  our  good  ;  and 
we  can  not  suppose  he  meant  to  promise  us  the  fulfillment,  to  our  own 
hurt,  of  prayers  we  might  blmdly  and  ignorantly  offer.  And  hence 
Chrysostom  wisely  prays  him  so  to  hear  his  servants'  prayers,  "  as  may 
be  most  expedient  for  them." 

And  let  all  of  us  unite  in  offering  to  him  Avho  has  redeemed^  and  who 
is  novi  ready  to  govern  and  support  us,  and  who  will  one  di^j  judge  us, 
the  adoration  contained  in  one  of  the  very  earliest  of  the  Christian 
hymns:  "When  thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  thou  didst 
open  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers.  "  Thou  sittest  at  the  right 
hand  of  God,  in  the  glory  of  the  Father.  We  believe  that  thou  shalt 
come  to  be  our  judge  ;  we  therefore  pray  thee,  help  thy  servants,  whom 
thou  hast  redeemed  with  thy  precious  blood.  Make  them  to  be  num- 
bered with  thy  saints,  in  glory  everlasting.  O  Lord,  save  thy  people, 
and  bless  thine  heritage  ;  govern  them,  and  lift  them  up  forever.  Day 
by  day,  we  magnify  thee  ;  and  we  loorshq)  thxj  name  ever,  world  with- 
out end." 

"  Now  unto  the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  the  only  T\ase  God ; 
unto  him  that  is  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask 
or  think,  according  to  the  power  that  worketh  in  us;  unto  him  be  glory 
in  the  church  by  Christ  Jesus,  throughout  all  ages,  world  without  end. 
Amen." 


DISCOURSE    LIV, 


ALEXANDER    KING^,    D.D. 

Dr.  King  was  born  in  the  county  of  Wicklow,  Ireland,  in  the  year  1814.  Hia 
fathei-,  named  Thomas  King,  had  been  brought  up  a  Presbyterian,  and  was  related 
to  several  of  the  eminent  men  who  had  been  prominent  in  the  movements  of  the 
first  "  United  Irishmen,"  before  those  movements  became  implicated  in  anti-Prot- 
estant conspiracies ;  and  though  attached  to  the  Established  Church  (there  being 
then  no  Presbyterianism  in  the  county  of  Wicklow),  yet  retained  liis  Presbyterian 
and  liberal  notions.  His  mother  had  been  educated  in  the  English  Established 
Church ;  was  of  an  English  family  named  Watts,  collaterally  related  to  the  family 
of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Watts,  "  the  poet  of  nonconformity."  The  son  was  designed 
for  the  ministry  in  the  Established  Church;  but  his  earhest  impressions  did  not  tend 
to  form  a  strong  attachment  to  that  institution.  He  became  famihar  with  hberal 
and  popular  notions ;  learned  the  Shorter  Catechism  and  Watts's  hymns  for  children ; 
and,  next  to  the  Bible,  had  been  most  accustomed  to  quotations  from  Brown's  poems 
(which  his  father  seemed  to  have  always  at  hand  from  memory),  and  to  various  in- 
cidental references  to  the  great  doctrines  of  liberty  and  right.  When  quite  a  grown 
boy,  and  possessed  of  a  good  share  of  general  knowledge,  he  regarded  his  mother 
as  singular  among  and  above  women,  for  every  thing  excellent  and  lovely,  and  it 
was  from  her  piety  he  received  his  first  religious  impressions. 

His  conversion  occurrea  when  he  was  about  fourteen  years  old,  in  the  Estalilished 
Church,  in  which  he  was  confirmed.  He  afterward  formed  decided  convictions  as  a 
Dissenter,  principally  in  consequence  of  the  constitution  of  an  ecclesiastical  establish- 
ment appearing  to  be  contrary  to  religious  liberty,  and  opposed  to  the  New  Test- 
ament ;  and  the  system  of  "  priests'  orders"  and  the  sacraments,  being,  as  he  con- 
ceived, derived  from  Popery,  and  not  from  the  Word  of  God. 

An  excellent  clergyman  in  the  establishment,  who  knew  his  conscientious 
difficulties,  was  the  first  to  recommend  him  to  enter  the  ministry  among  the  Inde- 
pendents ;  and  this  worthy,  liberal  Christian  man  still  continues  his  warm  personal 
friend,  although  conscientiously  retaining  his  own  position.  He  was  educated, 
principally,  in  Dublin,  and  spent  the  last  four  years,  preparatory  to  entering  upon 
the  ministry,  in  the  Dublin  Theological  College,  under  tlie  instructions  of  the  late 
Rev.  W.  H.  Cooper  and  others.  He  was  ordained  to  the  ministry  in  1838 ;  spent 
nearly  two  years  at  home  missionary  work,  and  settled  as  pastor  of  the  Independent 
church,  in  Cork,  in  1840. 

In  1846  he  returned  to  Dublin  and  took  the  pastoral  charge  (temporarily)  of  the 
old  Congregational  church,  in  "  Plunkct  street  mcetini>--house,"  while  assisting  to  con- 
duct the  mission  of  the  Irish  Congrec:ational  Union     In  1848  he  visited  America 


766  ALEXANDER    KING. 

at  the  request  of  Dr.  Baird  and  other  friends,  for  the  purpose  of  interesting  the 
American  churches  in  missionary  eflbrt  in  Irela.id,  where  he  received  marked  at- 
tention, and  accomplished  great  good.  In  seven  months  he  traveled  about  six 
thousand  miles,  going  by  the  north  out  to  St.  Louis  and  Illinois,  besides  visiting 
through  all  the  Atlantic  States,  from  Washington  City,  District  of  Columbia,  to 
Maine.  He  also  made  a  short  visit  to  Canada,  and  was  the  first  minister  from  the 
Old  World  to  attend  and  preach  at  the  annual  meetings  of  the  Congregational  Union 
of  Canada.  From  the  beginning  of  1849  to  the  middle  of  1856,  he  labored  in  Ire- 
land (principally  for  the  enlightenment  of  Roman  Cathohcs)  in  connection  with 
American  societies.  In  November,  1856,  he  commenced  pastoral  ministrations  in  a 
new  sphere,  in  a  beautiful  ncAV  chapel,  lately  erected  in  Brighton  (south  of  England) 
by  the  English  Congregational  Chapel  Building  Society. 

Dr.  King  has  not  published  any  large  or  important  works.  His  first  pamphlet, 
entitled,  "  The  Might  and  the  Right  of  the  People,"*  contains  the  first  public  call  for 
the  movement  which  originated  the  initiation  of  the  Queen's  College,  and  he  was 
the  only  minister  of  rehgion  who  took  part  in  the  preparatory  meeting  for  obtaining 
these  colleges,  which  took  place  in  the  city  of  Cork.  His  letter  to  Father  Mathew 
occasioned  his  issuing  a  cheap  edition  of  the  Douay  Bible,  which  circulated  largely 
among  Roman  Catholics.  Other  pamphlets  have  been  on  "  The  Life  and  Labors  of 
St.  Patrick,"  and  on  various  points  of  the  Roman  Catholic  controversy. 

Dr.  King  speaks  and  writes  in  a  bold,  dashing  manner,  and  though  comparatively 
rf;gardless  of  the  niceties  of  style,  is  often  highly  rhetorical  and  effective.  His  marked 
peculiarities  are  pretty  fairly  brought  out  in  the  subjoined  discourse,  which  was 
preached  in  Queen's  Square  Chapel,  Brighton,  last  December,  and  forwarded  by 
himself  for  insertion  in  this  work.     It  is,  by  permission,  somewhat  abridged. 


A    WARNIIsTG    TO    THE    CHURCHES. 

"  He  that  hath  an  ear,  let  him  hear,  what  the  Spirit  saith  unto  the  churches." — 
Rev.,  ii.  7. 

Reason  and  religion  unite  to  testify  that  this  world  is  under  the  moral 
government  of  God.  As  professed  Christians,  we  are  bound  to  recognize 
and  appreciate  this  glorious  fact ;  and  to  study  human  history  and  divine 
providence  in  their  relations  to  the  gospel  of  Christ.  Christianity  is  the 
great  exponent  of  God's  moral  government.  Yet  we  may  learn  some- 
thing of  the  principles  of  that  government,  and  discover  its  presence  and. 
its  power,  through  circumstances  and  events,  in  themselves  trivial,  sec- 
ular, carnal,  and  altogether  destitute  of  a  sacred  cliaracter. 

When  Ave  speak  of  God's  moral  government  of  this  world,  we  allude 
to  his  superintendence  and  control  of  the  affairs  of  men,  and  the  exercise 
of  his  sovereignty  and  righteous  judgment  regarding  them.  The  affairs 
of  men  are  frequently  associated  with  littleness,  and  vileness,  and  ungod- 
liness !ind  wrong ;  but,  considered  in  connection  with  the  government  of 
♦^  Cousistirig  of  letters  to  Daniel  O'Counell,  Father  Mathew,  and  otJiors 


A    WARXIXG    TO     THE     CIIURCnES. 


767 


God,  tlicy  apijear  invested  witli  a  solemn  interest  that  is  derived  from 
the  awful  grandeur  of  this  relationship ;  just  as  the  glories  of  heaven's 
sunlight  are  shed  upon  the  beggar's  rags,  upon  the  dungeon's  walls,  upon 
the  horrors  of  the  gibbet  or  the  battle-tield,  and  upon  all  the  sorrows,  and 
crimes,  that  crush  and  curse  the  earth.  As  Christianity  is  the  fullest  em- 
bodiment and  expression  to  us  of  the  objects  and  jDrinciples  of  God's 
moral  government,  so,  doubtless,  that  government  .s  administered  with 
si:)ecial  reference  to  the  honor  and  progress  of  the  gos2)el.  The  divine 
word  expounds  the  divhie  administration  in  regard  to  human  conduct 
and  affairs,  so  that  we  may  estimate  the  actions  and  characters  of  men  by 
reference  to  the  laws  of  God;  and  the  divine  government  proceeds  upon 
principles  by  which  human  conduct  and  affairs  take  rank  in  the  universe, 
according  to  their  relations  to  the  interests  of  Christianity. 

These  are  solemn  and  suggestive  thoughts  :  Omnipotence  reigns,  to 
give  effect  to  mercy.  God  governs,  to  redeem  and  bless.  Jesus  is  ex- 
alted a  Prince  and  a  Saviour.  He  reigns  in  righteousness,  mighty  to 
save.  He  must  reign  until  all  his  enemies  be  made  his  footstool.  What- 
ever resists  his  purposes  of  mercy,  must  perish  by  the  breath  of  his 
anger.  His  power  shall  punish  and  destroy  all  that  is  hostile  to  his 
reigning  and  redeeming  love. 

It  is  in  harmony  with  these  thoughts,  and  not  in  any  spirit  of  sectarian 
animosity  or  moroseness,  that  we  design  to  notice  some  instructive  facts 
in  the  constitution  and  history  of  the  Papacy ;  and  to  glance  at  some  re- 
markable modern  incidents  in  the  conduct  and  circumstances  of  its  chiefs. 
The  Papal  power  is  unquestionably  one  of  the  most  wonderful  systems 
ever  known  among  men.  In  its  origin  and  growth — in  its  organization 
and  development — in  the  depth  of  its  administrative  sagacity — in  the 
height  of  its  aspiring  ambition — in  the  daring  grandeur  of  its  assump- 
tions— in  the  appalling  mystery  of  its  achievements — it  stands  unrivalled 
and  unique  in  the  history  of  the  world !  To  many  now  it  appears  incredible, 
and  to  all  it  will  yet  appear  as  a  great  mystery  in  the  history  of  our  race, 
that  such  a  system  could  have  sprung  from  an  institution  for  teaching 
religion ;  and  that  religion  the  purest,  the  meekest,  the  most  spiiitual 
and  holy,  the  most  beneficent  and  divine,  ever  known  among  mankind. 
This  is  the  peculiar,  perplexing,  instructive  fact  in  the  Papacy.  It  has 
an  "  apostolical  succession !"  It  is,  in  a  sense,  the  historical  offspring  of  a 
pure  and  scriptural  Christian  church.  It  stands,  and  has  for  ages  stood, 
on  the  ground  where  once  the  imperial  Paganism  proudly  decreed  the 
annihilation  of  Christianity — on  the  ground  where  proud,  persecuting, 
imperial  Paganism  fell,  before  the  Christianity  it  had  attempted  to  de- 
stroy. It  claims  to  be  the  representative  and  inheritor — nay,  the  very 
completion  and  development — of  that  Christianity  by  which  that  Par 
ganism  was  overthrown.  It  possesses  trophies  Avhich  that  victorious 
Christianity  wrested  from  its  fallen  foe.  It  has  set  up  its  own  seat  of 
power  in  CiBsar's  palace,  amidst  the  fuius  of  the  temples  of  Caesar's  gods ; 


768  ALEXANDER    KING. 

and  it  challenges  the  world's  assent  to  the  historical  demonstration  that 
Christianity  is  divine ;  axd — that  the  chair  of  the  Pope  is  the  throne  oj 
God  on  earth  ! 

Among  the  thrones  and  crowns  of  worldly  authority,  it  shines  with 
awful  splendor  as  the  oldest  dynasty  in  Christendom,  In  its  extremest 
debasement  and  decrepitude  it  holds  alliance  with  the  proudest  sove- 
reigns in  the  world ;  and  by  wielding  a  power  with  which  none  of  them 
can  trifle,  it  makes  them  the  instruments  of  its  aggrandizement,  and  the 
vassals  of  its  supremacy.  By  an  imposing  and  tragical  exhibition  of 
Christian  facts,  and  by  the  aids  of  a  gorgeous  ceremonial,  it  secures  thtf 
religious  homage  of  multitudes  of  devout  and  humble  souls  ;  and  by  its 
sublime  assumi^tion  of  political  autocracy  and  divine  attributes,  it  estab- 
lishes its  authority  over  the  most  ardent  and  ambitious.  Thus  the  Papal 
jjower  has  secured  a  temporal  dominion,  and  established  a  religious  des- 
potism, in  the  name  of  Christianity.  The  nations  have  wondered  afler 
this  great  mystery,  as  with  "  the  voice  of  many  waters"  its  authority 
has  been  acknowledged,  and  its  praises  have  been  celebrated  in  the 
earth.  It  history  has  shown  siich  sjDoils  and  trophies  as  no  other  con- 
queror can  boast :  monarchs  det)  roned — kingdoms  convulsed — nati//n? 
enslaved — and  the  civihzation,  literature,  wealth,  liberties — all  the  rights 
and  resources  of  the  mightiest  states — compelled  to  do  homage  to  its 
power.  Nay,  even  the  ordinances  of  heaven  have  been  repealed — tlie 
word  of  God  has  been  prohibited — the  doctrines  of  salvation  ti  ve  been 
set  aside  for  monkish  fables  and  heathen  rites — and  the  gospe^  of  peace 
and  love  has  been  turned  into  an  implement  of  priestly  domination — the 
symbol  and  the  sanction  of  tyranny  and  blood. 

Evenin  our  own  day,  when  the  fires  of  persecution  are  extinguished,  and 
the  rusty  implements  of  torture  are,  by  most  persons,  regarded  with  dis- 
gust and  horror,  this  mysterious  power  counts  its  millions  of  willing  vic- 
tims among  the  exalted  and  lowly,  the  rude  and  the  refined.  It  holds 
spell-bound  in  superstitious  veneration  masses  of  the  pious  poor  ;  while  it 
boasts  its  converts  drawn  from  the  high  places  of  educated  and  aristo- 
cratic Protestantism.  With  the  stains  of  its  past  atrocities  upon  it — with 
its  gripe  upon  the  throat  of  liberty,  and  its  heel  upon  the  profaned  and 
mutilated  gospel — it  stands  up  in  presence  of  the  august  civilization  of 
this  age,  and  with  admirable  (Effrontery  puts  forth  its  pretensions,  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  to  the  dominion  of  the  world  ! 

How  and  whence  this  enormous  and  stupendous  development  of  evil, 
in  connection  with  the  Christian  name  ?  By  what  process  did  the  Pa- 
pacy grow  to  be  what  it  has  been,  and  what  it  is  ?  This  is  a  very  im- 
portant inquiry,  and  the  answer  is  pregnant  Math  instruction  and  warning 
of  the  highest  interest.  We  must  carry  this  investigation  back  to  the 
inspired  records  of  Christianity  itself  There  M-e  learn  how  sadly  the 
light  of  God's  revelation  has  become  darkened  to  the  world  by  the  follies 
and  the  sins  of  men.     The  same  testimony  that  informs  us  of  "  the  word 


A    WARNING    TO    THE     CHURCHES.  7G9 

of  truth,  the  gospel  of  our  salvation,"  also  warns  us  of  insidious  errors, 
false  doctrines,  and  evil  workings  ;  by  which  the  gospel  is  subverted,  and 
men  bring  upon  themselves  swift  destruction. 

In  the  presence  of  miraculous  gifts,  and  under  the  inspired  ministra- 
tions of  the  apostles,  we  find  nearly  all  the  first  societies  of  Christian 
converts  in  constant  and  imminent  peril  of  departing  from  the  faith,  and 
some  of  them  actually  tending  to  apostacy.  Some  of  them  were  fascina- 
ted by  a  revival  of  the  "  carnal  ordinances"  of  Judaism.  They  forsook 
the  simple  doctrines  of  Christianity,  for  a  religion  of  ceremonialism ;  or 
attempted  to  unite  a  code  of  ritual  sanctity  with  the  intelligent  spiritual- 
ity of  the  gospel.  Some,  "  who  loved  to  have  the  pre-eminence,"  set 
themselves  up  as  leaders  and  dictators  among  their  brethren,  and  en- 
deavored "  to  draw  away  disciples  after  them  ;"  and  thus  introduced  the 
evils  of  schismatical  contention,  and  sowed  the  seeds  of  clerical  ambition 
and  ruthless  intolerance,  which  afterwards  wrought  such  mischief  in  the 
churches.  Others,  again,  undertook  to  vindicate  or  modify  the  doctrines 
of  the  gospel,  by  amalgamating  them  with  the  speculations  of  Pagan 
philoso].hy,  and  throwing  around  them  various  conceits  and  expositions 
of  their  own,  until  the  truth  was  buried  beneath  a  mass  of  error.  And 
some  became  so  tainted  by  surrounding  abominations,  and  perverted 
by  carnal  reasonings,  that  they  sank  into  the  grossest  pollution,  and 
"  made  shipwreck  of  the  faith,"  On  every  hand  we  find  roots  of  bitter- 
ness spi'inging  up,  troubling  the  churches  ;  the  germs  of  incipient  apostacy 
somctjmes  appearing  to  grow  with  appalling  vigor  and  rank  luxuriance, 
hastening  to  brhig  forth  fruit  unto  death.  Hence  the  frequent  warnings 
and  earnest  expostulations  of  the  apostles,  exhorting  the  disciples  to 
"  keep  themselves  pure" — to  "  stand  fast  in  the  faith" — to  "  try  the 
spirits" — to  receive  "no  other  doctrines'.'  than  those  which  had  been 
"  delivered  to  them" — to  "  beware  of  false  teachers" — to  avoid  unprofit- 
able "  contentions  and  strifes  about  words" — to  reject  "  the  traditions  and 
commandments  of  men."  "  Even  now,"  they  said,  "  are  there  many  anti- 
christs !"  "Many  false  prophets  are  gone  out  into  the  world."  "The 
mystery  of  iniquity  doth  already  work."  From  these  early  and  fatal 
manifestations  of  pernicious  errors  within  the  pale  of  the  Christian  pro- 
fession, they  predicted  that  great  apostacy,  which  should  afterwards 
come,  "  with  the  working  of  Satan ;  with  power,  and  signs,  and  lying 
wonders  ;  and  with  all  deccivableness  of  unrighteousness  in  them  that 
perish,  because  they  received  not  the  love  of  the  truth,  that  they  might 
be  saved." 

IIow  marvelous  that  the  spread  and  prevalence  of  fiilse  Christianity 
should  thus  become  a  proof  to  us  that  Christianity  is  true  !  And  O,  with 
wliat  profound  reverence  and  holy  awe  should  we  adore  that  inscrutable 
wisdom  which  prepares  for  the  final  victory  and  consummate  glory  of 
the  Redeemer,  by  allowing,  even  ■s\'ithin  the  precincts  of  his  mediatorml 
dominion,  the  appearance  and  growth,  through   ages,   of  a  diabolical 

49 


770  ALEXANDER    KING. 

usurpation,  "  that  opposeth  and  exalteth  itself,  above  all  that  is  called 
God  or  that  is  worshii^ed,"  until  "  the  Lord  shall  consume  it  with  the 
breath  of  his  mouth,  and  clestroy  it  by  the  brightness  of  his  coming!" 
"  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ! 
Just  and  true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  saints  !"  Out  of  the  ci-ude 
and  germinating  errors  of  the  apostolic  age,  by  a  gradual  and  natural 
course  of  development,  through  the  succeeding  centuries — the  Papacy 
AROSE !  In  its  conflicts  with  the  dominant  Paganism,  the  defective 
Christiantity  of  those  times  imbibed  much  of  the  spirit,  and  adopted 
many  of  the  notions  and  observances,  of  its  corrupt  and  powerful  foe. 
By  the  influences  thus  introduced,  the  process  of  deterioration  was  ac- 
celerated, and  the  downward  tendency  increased.  Each  succeeding 
degree  of  corruption  necessitated  and  facilitated  another,  until  a  Avhole 
code  of  idolatrous  superstition  became  incorporated  with  nominal  Chris- 
tianity; and  the  compound  exhibited  refinements  in  iniquity,  and  a 
hideous  growth  of  moral  deformity,  which  primitive  Paganism  never 
knew. 

When  imperial  policy  adopted  "  Christianity"  as  a  war-cry  in  the 
strife  of  factions,  and  afterwards  used  it  as  an  instrument  of  government, 
the  corrupting  influence  of  this  alliance  united  to  increase  the  impurity 
and  degradation  of  the  church.  An  ambitious  priesthood  strove  and 
scrambled  for  political  power.  The  profession  of  the  gospel  was  asso- 
ciated with  inti-igue  and  imposture — with  violence,  intolerance,  and  cai'- 
nal  strife  ;  until  the  way  was  prepared  for  setting  up  a  clerical  dominion 
upon  the  throne  of  the  Caesars,  and,  ultimately,  for  making  the  kingdoms 
of  modern  Europe  so  many  feoffs  and  vassalages  of  the  empire  of  the 
Popes.  We  do  not  now  call  attention  to  the  political  events  through 
which  the  Papal  system  attained  its  completion  ;  although  it  were  easy 
and  instructive  to  mark  this  progress  from  Constantine  to  Charlemagne, 
and  from  Charlemagne  to  the  Council  of  Trent.  Our  object  is  to  study 
the  hegmnings  of  this  astonishing  system,  and  to  derive  instruction  for 
ourselves  fi'om  a  serious  investigation  of  the  germinant  princij^les — the 
seeds  of  evil — out  of  which  such  desolating  mischief  arose. 

A  departure  from  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel,  a  defection  from  spir- 
itual Christianity,  a  usurpation  against  Christian  liberty — produced  the 
PAPACY.  Religious  zeal,  associated  with  worldly  policy,  clerical  am- 
bition, and  popular  ignorance,  issued  in  the  great  apostacy,  which 
paganised  Christianity  and  imperilled  the  salvation  of  the  world  !  These 
things  are  assuredly  calculated  to  suggest  to  us  salutary  warnings  and 
instructions.  They  are  "  for  our  admonition,  upon  whom  the  ends  of 
the  world  have  come."  They  most  impressively  teach  us  to  guard 
against  the  beginnings  of  evil.  They  admonish  us,  as  with  the  united 
voices  of  God's  revelation  in  the  gospel,  and  his  awful  and  glorious 
providence,  not  to  cherish  any  of  those  elements  of  corruption,  that 
contributed  to  the  formation  of  the  great  "  mystery  of  iniquity." 


A    WARNING    TO     THE     CnURCIIES.  771 

This  subject  sometimes  calls  up  in  my  mind  a  sad,  but  suitable  analogy. 
Some  years  ago,  the  people  of  these  countries  thought  of  the  cholera  as 
a  disease  pecuUar  to  foreign  climes.  It  was  imagined  that  some  natural 
laws  connected  with  the  atmosjjhere,  or  the  soil,  or  the  intervening 
ocean,  effectually  confined  it  to  those  distant  lands ;  and  though  we 
might  pity  the  inhabitants  of  those  ill-fated  and  far-off  regions,  yet,^br 
ourselves,  it  was  supposed  we  need  not  be  alarmed :  our  position 
MADE  us  SAFE  !  That  delusion  was  effectually,  but  i:)ainfully  removed. 
A  bitter  experience  taught  us  that  we  were  wrong.  Several  times  has 
our  land  mourned,  as  if  a  destroying  angel  were  spreading  his  wings 
over  our  dwellings,  and  smiting  their  inmates  with  the  blast  of  death. 
It  has  been  found  that  the  state  of  things  among  ourselves  supplied  the 
destroyer  with  the  aliment  of  his  life  and  the  means  of  our  destruction. 
In  the  habits  of  our  people — in  the  dwellings  of  our  poor — in  the  streets 
of  our  cities — in  the  purlieus  around  our  cathedrals  and  our  palaces — 
were  found  the  predisposing  causes  of  disease,  the  squalor  and  pollution, 
by  which  the  pestilence  was  fed.  Now,  it  is  understood  that  our  safety 
depends  upon  our  purity.  To  cleanse  our  cities,  is  to  save  our  people. 
Every  sanitary  hoard  is  an  anti-cholera  institution :  and,  by  God's 
blessing  upon  such  means,  we  expect  the  plague  to  be  stayed. 

Every  one  can  apply  this  illustration. 

Tlie  indifference  and  false  security,  which  formerly  prevailed  regard- 
ing the  spread  of  Popery  among  us,  have  been,  in  some  measure,  di*. 
pelled  by  its  recent  advances.  The  plague  has  entered  our  dwellings : 
"  the  pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness,"  and  "  the  destruction  that 
wasteth  at  noon-day,"  are  in  our  midst.  Our  carnal  dreams  of  Protest- 
ant inflillibUity  have  been  disturbed  ;  and  now  the  voice  of  duty  calls  us 
all  to  vigilant  and  holy  efforts  to  purify  our  churches  and  to  save  the 
land.  Our  brethren  in  the  Established  Church  are  most  exposed  to  this 
■  evil.  They  most  demand  our  sympathy  and  our  prayers.  The  post  of 
danger  is  the  post  of  honor ;  and  if  they  be  "  valiant  for  the  truth,"  and 
meet  the  motley  legions  of  Rome,  equii^ped  with  "  the  whole  armor  of 
God,"  and  "  quit  themselves  like  men,  as  good  soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ," 
then  a  double  glory  Avill  rest  upon  them  as  the  victorious  vanguard  in 
the  great  Reformation-battle  of  this  age.  If  they  falter  and  fliil  in  the 
hour  of  conflict,  their  children's  children  may  howl  around  their  graves, 
muttering  execrations  ujjon  their  memory,  as  arch-traitors  to  their  coun- 
try and  their  God.  May  all  holy  influences  descend  upon  them,  and 
heavenly  power  sustain  them,  that  their  hearts  may  not  quail  in  the  day 
of  trial. 

It  is  high  time  that  all  our  Protestant  peojile  were  brought  to  under- 
stand the  true  idea  of  a  Christian  church,  as  a  voluntary  society  of 
Christian  people,  and  not  a  close  corporation  of  clerical  interpreters.  As 
the  Article  in  the  English  Prayer  Book  beautifully  expresses  it :  "  :i 
church  is  a  congregation   of  faithful  men."     Let  these  congregations 


772  ALEXANDER    KING. 

recognize  and  assert  their  rights  and  privileges  in  allegiance  to  Christ ; 
and  take  into  their  own  hands  the  administration  of  their  own  aflairs  ; 
and  they  will  soon  find  the  way  to  get  rid  of  Anglican  Romanism,  and 
to  worship  God  without  the  mediation  of  priests. 

Let  the  united  voice  of  all  our  Protestant  churches  m^eet,  and  answei 
all  the  Romish  assumptions  on  this  head,  by  the  glorious  Scripture  testi- 
mony, that  there  is  no  proper  and  literal  priesthood  in  Christianity,  but 
that  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  pro- 
fession, "  who,  by  the  one  offering  of  himself,  has  brought  in  everlasting 
righteousness,  and  obtained  eternal  redemption  for  us ;"  and  that  the 
only  other  priesthood  in  Christianity,  is  the  common  privilege  of  all  true 
believers — of  ministers  and  people  alike — and  of  ininisters,  not  as  min- 
isters, but  as  believers — who  are  God's  "  spiritual  priesthood,  to  offer  up 
spiritual  sacrifices,  acceptable  to  God  by  Jesus  Christ."  All  bodies  of 
Protestant  Dissenters  are  vitally  interested  in  this  question.  It  is  a 
humiliating  fact,  that  the  spirit  of  Popery  is  natural  to  us  all ;  and  all 
ecclesiastical  systems  are  more  or  less  calculated  to  foster  it.  Our  sec- 
tarian differences,  and  the  rivalries  and  antipathies  which  they  occasion, 
have  inflicted  much  mischief  upon  the  cause  of  truth ;  and  among  the 
evils  existing  in  connection  with  nonconformity,  it  is  deeply  to  be  de- 
plored that  a  culpable  indifference  has  prevailed,  in  some  instances, 
regarding  the  baleful  influence  and  threatening  progress  of  Romanism  ; 
while  a  pitiful  imitation  of  the  Papacy  and  its  priestism  has  grown 
lip  in  some  of  our  churches. 

Let  ns,  by  the  grace  of  God,  avoid  all  this.  If  you  do  not  desire  to 
have  the  tragedy,  do  not,  I  pray  you,  have  anything  to  do  vnth  the 
farce. 

It  may  be  thought  a  little  thing ;  but  I  solemnly  believe  that  one  of 
the  highest  duties  to  which  earnest  Christians  are  called  in  the  j^resent 
day,  is  to  kepudiate  all  coNNECTioisr  between  Chkistianitt  anI) 
Shams  !  The  gospel  of  Christ  has  to  teach  the  world,  in  a  purer  sense 
than  the  world  has  known  it,  that  "  an  honest  man  is  the  noblest  work 
of  God  !"  Protestant  ministers  require  to  be  pre-eminently  honest  men. 
In  seeking  to  convince  and  persuade  men  for  God,  they  should  desire  to 
be  transparent  media,  through  which  God's  truth  shall  reach  the  human 
soul.  It  behooves  us  to  take  good  care  that  our  piety  shall  not  afford 
food  to  the  infidelity  that  surrounds  us.  We  should  endeavor  to  make 
honest  men  of  all  classes  and  of  all  capacities  understand  and  feel,  that  it 
is  not  our  professional  honor  we  are  seeking;  but  the  honor  of  God,  and 
the  salvation  of  their  souls.  We  must  therefore  put  away  from  us  all 
the  little  artifices  and  pious  frauds  of  semi-Protestant  Jesuitism ;  "  not 
walking  in  craftiness,  nor  handling  the  wm-d^of  God  deceitfully ;  but  by 
manifestation  of  the  truth,  commending  ourselves  to  every  man's  con- 
science in  the  sight  of  God." 

Our  subject,  and  the  signs  of  the  times,   demand  this  of  us.      The 


A    T7ARNIXG    :0    TKE    CIIURCnES.  773 

shrewd  and  practical  ^\>  >rldly  irien  of  this  age,  tlie  hard-headed  ana 
sometimes  hard-liearted  race,  which  evangeUcal  Protestantism  has  to  sanc- 
tify and  save,  arc  not  to  be  converted  or  convinced  by  oracuhir  assump- 
tions, or  tlie  i^latitndes  of  clerical  pretense.  Let  us,  then,  renounce  all 
claims  to  spiritual  dictatorship,  and  all  the  mimicries  of  priestism  ;  and 
stand  erect  before  our  fellow-racn,  in  the  moral  dignity  of  downright 
upright  Christian  manhood.  Be  it  our  desire  to  testify  to  all  men  "  the 
glorious  gospel  of  the  blessed  God  ;"  not  to  know  anything  among  men, 
"  but  Jesus  Christ  and  him  cruci6ed ;"  not  desiring  "  to  have  any 
dominion  over  laith,  but  tO'be  helpers  of  their  joy ;"  "seeking  the  profit 
of  many,  that  they  may  be  saved."  Let  us  unite  in  hearty,  holy, 
brotherly  efforts,  for  the  defense  and  -triumph  of  Christian  truth  ;  ever 
remembering  that  our  sufficiency  is  of  God  ;  and  that  the  Aveapons  of 
our  waifare  are  not  carnal,  but  mighty  through  him.  Especially  should 
it  be  the  constant  aim  and  earnest  prayer  of  all  true  Protestant  Christ- 
ians that  Roman  Catholics  may  be  brought  to  know  and  rejoice  in  "the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  j"  and  that  the  masses  of  our  people  may  be  turned 
unto  God. 

O  that  the  tide  of  popular  sympathy,  which  is  now,  in  many  cases, 
fast  ebbing  away  toward  the  dark  dead  sea  of  infidelity  and  ungodliness, 
were  turned  to  mingle  with  the  living  waters  which  flow  from  the 
throne  of  God !  Oh !  that  our  churches  and  their  ministers  were  all 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel ;  and  that  we  were  all  so  con- 
strained by  the  love  of  Christ  that  the  great  purpose  of  our  lives  should 
be  to  make  known  his  name,  and  manifest  the  glories  of  his  wondrous 
grace  !  Come  the  day  when  these  shall  be  the  characteristics  of  all  our 
Protestant  churches !  Then  shall  Britain  be  prepared  for  the  crash  of 
nations,  when  "  God  shall  arise  to  shake  terribly  the  earth  ;"  then  the 
pallor  of  detected  conspirators  shall  not  mantle  our  cheeks,  nor  the 
terror  of  a  divine  conscrii)tion  paralyze  our  hearts,  when  God's  own 
liand  shall  strike,  at  Rome,  that  death-knell  of  priestly  imposture,  which 
all  the  churches  shall  hear,  and  at  whose  echoes  men  and  angels  shall 
rejoice.  That  day  is  coming !  Who  can  tell  how  soon  its  dawn  may 
be  upon  us  ?  Day  of  Avrath  and  glory ;  day  of  terrible  retributions  and 
munificent  mercy !     May  we  be  prepared  for  its  appearuig  ! 

In  the  prospect  of  it,  let  all  the  churches  of  the  Reformation  x;nite  in 
a  penitential  and  revival  hymn,  that  may  become  a  choral  anthem  for  the 
jubilee  of  the  world  : 

"  God  be  merciful  unto  us,  and  bless  us ; 
•  And  cause  his  lace  to  sliiue  upon  us; 

That  thy  way  may  be  known  upon  eartli, 
Thy  saving  health  among  all  nations  I 
Let  the  people  praise  thee,  0  God, 
Let  all  the  people  praise  ^ee  I" 


DISCOURSE    LV. 

ROBERT    IRVINE,    D.D. 

This  gentleman  is  a  native  of  the  province  of  Ulster.  He  received  the  early  part 
of  his  professional  education  in  the  Royal  College  at  Belfast,  and  finished  his  theo- 
logical studies  in  Edinburg,  being  a  pupil  of  the  late  Dr.  Chalmers. 

After  the  disruption  in  Scotland  in  1843,  the  Irish  Assembly  set  to  work  with 
gi-eat  earnestness  to  furnish  missionaries  in  co-operation  with  the  Free  Church  of 
Scotland  to  the  British  colonies,  and  Dr.  Irvine  was  loosed  firom  an  important 
charge  in  Ballynahinch,  county  Down  (his  native  county)  and  sent  as  the  first 
missionary  of  the  Irish  church  to  British  America.  His  first  field  of  labor  was  in 
the  city  of  St.  John,  N.  B.,  the  great  commercial  metropoUs  of  that  province,  where 
he  labored  with  very  great  success  for  eight  years,  when  he  was  removed  to  the 
charge  of  the  second  church  in  the  city  of  Toronto,  Canada  West.  This  charge  he 
held  for  two  years,  and  during  the  time  he  occupied  this  post  the  Synod  of  Canada 
engaged  his  services  as  a  lecturer  on  Church  History  in  the  Knox's  College.  On 
the  '•smoval  of  Professor  Young  from  Hamilton,  to  fill  the  chair  of  moral  philoso- 
phy, vacated  in  Knox's  College,  Dr.  Irvine  received  a  unanimous  call  to  his  present 
charge  of  the  Knox  Church,  Hamilton,  Canada  West,  one  of  the  most  important 
and  influential  churches  in  the  province. 

Dr.  Irvine  is  about  forty  years  of  age,  middle  size,  with  a  slight  inclination  to 
corpulency.  He  is  a  man  of  high  literary  and  moral  qualifications,  of  gentlemanly 
bearing,  of  indefatigable  zeal  and  energy  of  purpose  ;  and  in  the  pulpit  and  through 
the  press,  is  doing  perhaps  as  much  as  almost  any  other  man  for  the  moral  eleva- 
tion of  the  province  favored  with  his  immediate  labors.  Dr.  Irvine  always  preaches 
without  notes  ;  even  one  of  his  longest  sentences,  filling  an  entire  paragraph,  will  be 
littered  with  ease  and  fluency,  without  a  single  scrap  of  a  pen  under  his  eye.  His 
appearance  in  the  pulpit  is  more  than  ordinarily  commanding  and  attractive ;  his 
delivery  distinct  and  impressive;  his  communications  rich  in  thought  and  evan- 
gelical in  sentiment ;  and  his  whole  style  formed  after  the  best  Scotch  models. 

The  discourse  which  we  give  is  one  of  a  course  of  lectures  delivered  in  1854-56 
on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity.  Its  great  length  obliges  us  to  abridge  some  of 
its  parts ;  but  the  luminous  and  effective  train  of  reasoning  is  preserved  enthe. 


POWER     OF     THE     TRUTB.  775 

THE  SELF-EVIDENCIXG  POWER  OF  THE  TRUTH. 

"  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God  hath  the  witness  in  himself." — 1  John,  v.  10. 

If  by  some  miraculous  decree  of  heaven,  every  vestige  of  a  visible 
religion  were  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  we  were  left  without 
a  Bible,  and  without  an  ordinance,  is  there  any  evidence  yet  remaining 
by  which  we  should  be  sustained  in  our  behef  that  Christianity  is  of 
God  ?  It  is  true  we  might,  from  our  recollection,  cite  the  miracles 
which  are  recorded  in  the  New  Testament — we  might  appeal  to  the 
story  of  the  shepherds  on  the  plains  of  Bethlehem — we  might  point 
to  that  miraculous  star  Avhich  cast  its  radiance  over  the  town  of  David — 
we  might  summon  the  lepers  who  were  cleansed,  the  palsied  and 
the  fevered  who  were  cured,  the  blind  whose  eyes  were  opened,  and  the 
dead  who  were  raised,  before  our  tribunal,  to  give  testimony  in  favor  of 
our  Christianity.  Nay  more,  we  might  bring  the  law  and  the  prophets 
to  Mount  Calvary,  and  read  them  by  the  dim  light  which  the  gloomy 
heavens,  even  Avith  reluctance,'  afibrded  to  the  reckless  crucifiers  of  our 
Lord  ;  we  might  appeal  to  the  earthquake,  to  the  rending  rocks,  to  the 
darkening  heavens,  and  to  all  that  inysterious  phenomena  that  accom- 
panied the  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour,  and  each  incident  would  speak 
and  declare  that  Christianity  is  divine.  Still,  admitting  that  we  can  not 
prove  to  the  satisfoction  of  the  skeptic  that  miracles  are  truth,  or  that 
prophecy  is  fulfilled,  or  that  the  morality  of  the  Bible  is  not  superior  to 
that  of  Socrates,  are  we  even  then  to  reject  our  Christianity  for  want 
of  evidence  ?  The  skeptic  will  I'eply  in  the  affirmative.  But  here  we 
meet  him,  and  simply  say,  that  because  I  am  unable  to  prove  to  his 
satisfaction  that  my  Qhristianity  is  from  heaven,  it  does  not  follow  that 
I  am  bound  to  reject  it.  Nor  does  it  follow  that  because  I  can  not  adduce 
evidence  enough  to  convince  Imn,  there  is  therefore  no  evidence.  There 
may  be  a  species  of  evidence  which  one  man  can  comprehend,  while 
another  can  not.  A  philosopher  can  comprehend  the  argument  derived 
from  science,  a  peasant  can  not ;  yet,  the  peasant  may  be  as  firmly 
wedded  to  his  Christianity  as  the  philosopher,  and,  for  aught  we  know, 
he  may  be  possessed  of  evidence  as  convincing  and  conclusive  as  that  of 
the  philosopher. 

The  evidences  of  Christianity  generally  dwelt  upon  are  of  a  kind 
in  which  the  reasoning  fixculties  of  the  Christian  philosopher  are 
brought  into  collision  with  those  of  the  skeptic.  But  the  following 
argument  is  more  saci-ed,  more  sublime,  and  yet  more  simple.  More 
sacred,  because  the  Spirit  of  God  alone  can  aflbrd  the  data  on  which  it 
rests ;  more  sublime,  because  it  is  the  class  of  evidence  in  which  the 
church  in  glory  rejoices ;  and  more  simj)le,  because  it  is  a  species  of  evi- 
dence which  the  most  unlettered  peasant  in  the  universe  can  comjjrehend. 
It  is  not  a  species  of  evidence  derived  front  the  facts  recorded  xcithout^ 


776  ROBERT    IRVINE. 

but  fi-'om  deeds  performed  loithin.  It  is  not  a  species  of  evidence  in  the 
consideration  of  which  the  human  intellect,  with  all  its  gigantic  powers 
of  research  and  reflection,  need  be  enlisted.  It  is  a  species  of  evidence 
Avhich  is  not  speculative,  but  purely  experimental.  It  can  not  boast  of 
its  Goliaths  and  its  Samsons,  it  can  not  cite  the  volumes  of  literature  to 
which  it  has  given  birth,  but  it  can  enlist  all  the  virtues,  all  the 
morality,  all  the  deep-toned  spirituality  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  point- 
ing to  these,  it  can  boast  that  these  are  the  offspring  of  Christianity,  and 
hence  the  parent  of  such  a  heavenly  progeny  must  be  divine. 

We  read  of  a  blind  man  whose  eyes  the  Saviour  miraculously 
opened,  and  when  called  upon  by  Pharisaical  skeptics  to  give  an  account 
of  the  miracle,  the  man  was  completely  puzzled.  His  parents  were  then 
api^ealed  to,  who  referred  once  more  t©  their  son,  assuring  the  cavillers 
that  the  man  was  born  blind.  Accusations  are  next  preferred  against 
the  Saviour,  and  he  is  charged  with  sin  :  "  Give  God  the  praise,  for  we 
know  that  this  man  is  a  sinner."  The  reply  involves  an  evidence 
so  strong,  that  all  the  skepticism  of  the  universe  can  not  resist  it : 
"Whether  he  be  a  sinner  or  no,  I  know  hot;  one  thing  I  know,  that 
whereas  I  was  blind  now  I  see."  The  Pharisees  could  not  understand 
the  miracle — the  physician  could  not  explain  it — the  man  on  whom  it 
was  jDcrformed  could  give  no  other  account  of  it  than  simply  that  a  nictn 
"  named  Jesus  made  clay,  and  anointed  his  eyes,  and  bade  him  go  Avash 
in  Siloam,"  which  he  did,  and  he  came  seeing.  Was  it  necessary  in  the 
case  that  this  man  should  understand  the  theory  of  optics?  Was  it 
^locessary  that  he  should  be  acquainted  with  the  philosophy  of  sight,  or 
the  nature  of  colors?  Did  he  require  the  information  of  any  friend  or 
acquaintance,  to  assure  him  that  he  could  now  see  ?  No.  His  own 
consciousness  was  the  witness.  And  the  sight  of  a  picture,  the  sight  of 
a  parent  or  friend,  was  to  him  a  more  convincing  evidence  of  the  fact 
that  he  could  see,  than  all  the  lectures  that  ever  were  written  or  read, 
on  the  philosophy  of  optics,  or  the  properties  of  light  and  color.  Now, 
it  does  not  follow  that  because  the  man  once  blind,  though  now  seeing, 
was  utterly  unable  to  give  a  philosophical  account  of  the  miracle,  or  be- 
cause he  was  miable  to  show  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  Pharisee  how  he 
had  been  made  to  see,  he  was  on  that  account  still  blind.  Or,  supposing 
one  of  those  cavillers  had  come  to  the  man,  and  attempted  to  persuade 
him  that  the  miracle  was  all  a  delusion  ;  that  he  did  not  see  ;  that  those 
eyeballs  were  still  blind,  and  that  the  miracle  was  a  fraud,  would  any 
amount  of  persuasion  have  convinced  the  man  of  the  correctness  of  such 
allegations  ?  Did  not  his  own  consciousness  satisfy  him  of  the  fact, 
vrhich  they  ignorantly,  impiously,  and  blasphemously  rejected? 

Or  let  US  put  the  matter  in  this  form.  We  read  among  the  miracles 
of  Christ  that  he  raised  Lazarus  from  the  dead.  IMany  of  the  fricnids 
of  Lazarus  were  cognizant  of  the  fact  that  he  had  been  conveyed  to  the 
grave,  after  he  had  been  kept  the  usual  time   jetween  the  decease  and 


POWER     OF    THE     TRUTH.  777 

the  interment.  He  had  been  four  days  in  the  graAC.  His  resurrection 
liad  ah-eady  been  known,  and  had  excited  considerable  inquiry  amonir 
the  populace.  Now,  supposing  sonae  unbelieving  Sadducee  had  visited 
Lazarus,  and  assured  him  that  the  fact  of  his  resurrection  was  all  a 
delusion,  that  he  was  still  a  dead  man,  a  prisoner  of  mortality,  would  it 
liave  required  a  lecture  on  the  nature  and  functions  of  life,  a  discourse  on 
the  organization  of  the  physical  system,  to  convince  Lazarus  that  he  was 
a  living  man  ?  No.  The  consciousness  of  the  man  was  a  more  convinc- 
ing and  satisfactory  proof  of  the  matter,  than  all  the  lectures  and  dis- 
courses that  ever  were  read,  published,  and  circulated  on  the  doctrines 
of  anatomy  and  physiology.  Lazarus  could  not  explain  the  miracle. 
The  Sadducees  could  not  understand  it,  and  therefore  they  would  not 
believe  it.  Yet  the  ignorance  of  Lazarus,  and  the  unbelief  of  the  Sad- 
ducees, did  not  make  the  miracle  less  true.  In  s})ite  of  both,  Lazarus  is 
a  living  man,  and  the  consciousness  of  his  being  alive  is  all  the*  evidence 
he  requires,  while  the  only  account  he  can  give  of  his  resurrection  is 
simply  that  he  was  dead  and  is  alive  again. 

Again,  supposing  some  one  is  seized  at  this  moment  with  an  acute 
pain,  a  physician  is  immediately  cited  to  examine  the  region  of  the  sys" 
tern  in  which  the  pain  is  supposed  to  exist.  He  can  see  no  inflammatory 
symptoms,  no  discolored  or  cutaneous  indications  of  disease.  He  ac- 
cordingly denies  the  existence  of  such  a  pain,  and  attempts  to  persuade 
the  sufferer  that  he  is  laboring  under  hallucination  ;  Avill  any  amount  of 
jjersuasion  convince  the  man  that  he  is  mistaken  ?  All  the  physicians  in 
Christendom  can  not  convince  him  that  he  is  free  from  pain.  Their 
skill  in  diagnosis — their  philosophy  of  cause  and  effect — their  knowledge 
of  anatomy,  may  be  perfectly  sound  and  perfectly  true,  but  all  this  will 
not  convince  the  sufferer  that  he  is  free  from  pain.  His  own  conscious- 
ness furnishes  him  with  evidence  more  convincing  than  all  the  reasoning 
of  all  the  philosophers  and  all  the  physicians,  since  the  days  of  Escu- 
lapius.  It  is  true,  he  can  not  explain  in  anatomical  phraseology  the 
nature  or  character  of  the  pain,  neither  can  he  assign  any  cause  for  it, 
but  he  knows  that  he  is  suffering  pain,  and  it  is  vain  to  pei'suade  him  to 
the  contrary.  The  existence  of  the  pain,  in  question  is  attested  by  a 
sensation  of  which  he  is  as  conscious  as  he  is  of  his  own  existence,  and 
it  were  as  easy  to  persuade  him  that  he  had  no  existence,  as  that  he  had 
no  pain.  This  testimony  is  sufficient  to  establish  the  existence  of  pain 
in  the  physical  system ;  and  the  foct  that  one  or  two,  or  ten  thousand, 
deny  it,  is  not  sufficient  to  destroy  the  belief  in  its  existence  where  it  has 
an  existence.  Neither  will  the  fact  that  there  have  been  men,  from  time, 
iinmenioi-ial,  who  have  denied  the  existence  of  a  pain  in  such  a  region, 
destroy  the  consciousness  of  its  existence,  for  the  experience  of  another 
class,  who  have  existed  in  all  ages,  is  quite  sufficient  to  neutralize  that 
of  the  class  supposed,  and  still,  as  before,  there  is  a  surplus  in  favor  of 
our  assumed  possibility. 


778  ROBERT     IRVINE. 

The  point  of  tliese  illustrations  is  sufficiently  obvious,  and  we  slmll 
now  proceed  briefly  to  apply  them  to  the  case  before  us. 

The  species  of  evidence  by  which  the  facts  of  such  cases  are  attested 
is  not  such  as  may  satisfy  the  skeptic,  but  it  loses  nothing  on  that  ac- 
count. The  skeptic  reasons,  that  because  he  is  unable  to  appreciate  the 
nature  of  your  argument,  therefore  it  involves  a  fallacy.  You  are  treated 
as  a  blind  enthusiast,  destitute  of  common  sense,  and  of  reason,  because 
the  infidel  is  unable  to  comprehend  the  nature  of  that  experience,  by 
which  your  Christianity  is  attested.  It  is  neither  honest  nor  logical  to 
deny  the  existence  of  such  experience.  He  may  not  have  been  in  the 
circumstances  in  which  you  obtained  such  experience. 

A  simple-minded  Christian,  without  the  advantages  of  education, 
debarred  by  circumstances  over  which  he  had  no  control,  from  those 
sources  of  intelligence  which  his  more  privileged  opponents  enjoy,  with 
his  Bible  iii  his  hand,  and  the  Spirit  and  grace  of  God  in  his  heart,  is  fully 
persuaded  that  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  are  true.  Pie  can  not  tell 
why,  but  the  conviction  is  so  deeply  engraven  on  his  heart,  that  he  could 
no  more  surrender  it  than  he  could  part  with  liis  own  existence.  Nay, 
more,  to  deny  the  Bible  is  to  deny  his  very  being.  He  can  not  give  any 
other  account  of  his  Christianity  than  that  he  has  felt  all  that  the  Bible 
says.  Its  descriptions  of  sin — its  account  of  the  emotions  of  the  soul — 
its  statements  with  respect  to  the  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the 
human  heart,  exactly  accord  with  all  that  he  has  felt  passing  within,  and 
""vhen  he  thus  compares  all  that  Chiistianity  reveals  with  all  that  he 
experiences,  he  gives  the  same  testimony  to  its  character  that  the  woman 
of  Samaria  gave  to  its  divme  founder,  when  she  entered  the  streets  of 
the  city  :  "  Come  see  a  revelation  that  told  me  all  things  that  ever  I  felt ; 
it  not  this  Christianity?"  The  humble  and  unpretending'Christian  in 
question,  does  not  attempt  to  travel  over  the  range  of  inquiry  which  has 
been  embraced  in  a  course  of  lectures  on  Christianity.  He  does  not 
pretend  to  travel  through  the  regions -of  scientific  and  historic  literature 
in  search  of  relics  and  specimens  which  furnish  proofs  of  the  truth  of 
Christianity.  His  range  of  inquiry  is  more  limited  and  more  experi- 
mental, yet  not  the  less  certain.  He  is  directed  to  his  conclusion,  not 
by  the  Ught  of  science — not  by  the  jAilosophy  of  religion — not  by  any 
anatomical  acquaintance  with  the  structure  of  the  mind — not  by  any 
metaphysical  knowledge  of  the  principles  of  the  intellectual,  or  the  facul- 
ties of  the  moral,  department  of  his  nature.  But  like  the  sitflerer,  who 
feels  conscious  of  pain,  though  ignorant  of  the  structure  of  his  own 
frame-Avork,  he  knows  that  Christianity  is  true,  because  he  feels  its  truth. 
He  may  be  unable  to  assign  such  a  reason  for  the  truth  as  will  satisfy 
the  skeptic,  but  he  can  say  with  the  blind  man,  "  One  thing  I  know, 
that  whereas  I  was  blind,  now  I  see."  He  may  be  unable  to  describe 
the  nature  and  function  of  the  principle  which  constitutes  the  hidden 
life  in  the  soul ;  but  still  he  is  as  thoroughly  satisfied  that  "  he  was  dead 


POWER     OF    THE     TRUTH.  779 

and  is  alive  again,"  as  was  Lazarus  after  his  resurrection  from  the 
tomb. 

The  infidel  here  admits  his  own  defectiveness.  One  half  his  oppo- 
sition arises  from  the  tact  that  he  has  never  experienced  the  feelings  of 
the  Christian.  How,  then,  can  he  tell  what  these  feelings  are,  since  he 
has  never  possessed  them.  A  man  can  not  tell  whether  an  apple  be 
sweet  or  sour  if  he  never  tasted  it.  The  other  half  of  his  ojiposition 
arises  from  the  fact  that  he  knows  of  no  law  in  metaphysics  to  which  the 
experience  of  the  Christian  can  be  reduced ;  but  this  again  argues 
merely  his  ignorance.  There  may  be  a  law  for  aught  he  knows.  It 
were  absurd  of  the  skeptic  to  deny  that  there  are  two  methods  of  ex- 
tracting the  cube  root  of  a  certain  number,  because  he  only  knows  one 
method.  Hence,  according  to  the  candid  admission  of  the  skeptic,  his 
opposition  to  the  self-evidencing  power  of  Christianity,  arises  entirely 
from  ignorance. 

He  may  feel  himself  safe  in  reasoning  with  the  uneducated,  and  with 
men  of  humble  capacity ;  but  when  men  of  equal  power,  men  of  equal 
advantages  in  point  of  education,  men  as  capable  of  grai)pling  with  any 
problem  in  physical  or  metaphysical  science,  as  he  is — when  such  men 
can  be  cited  to  add  their  testimony  to  that  of  the  humble  experimental- 
ist on  this  subject,  then  we  consider  that  the  truth  of  Christianity  may 
be  fairly  inferred  from  its  own  irresistible  testimony  to  the  conscience 
and  the  heart.  Chalmei's  tells  us  that  Christianity  has  carried  creden- 
tials into  his  heart,  so  authentic  and  so  convincing,  that  he  can  not  for  a 
moment  impeach  them  with  forgery ;  they  bear  the  very  signature  of 
divinity,  they  are  stamped  Avith  the  seal  of  Jehovah,  and  they  are  felt  to 
be  God's  own  manuscript  within,  authenticated  and  sealed  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  To  deny  it  were  to  deny  his  moral  vision,  and  to  impeach  his 
veracity.  He  is  as  firmly  persuaded  of  the  truth  and  infallibility  of  this 
internal  document,  as  he  is  of  the  fact  that  he  saw,  in  a  certain  Ubrary,  a 
parchment  containing  a  Hebrew  manuscript.  Now,  supposing  Chalmers 
tells  us  that  ten  years  ago,  he  saw  in  the  British  Museum  a  roll  of  parch- 
ment inscribed  with  Hebrew  characters,  and  said  to  have  been  written  by 
Ezra,  after  the  Babylonish  captivity,  will  any  of  us  impeach  his  veracity 
by  denying  that  he  ever  saw  such  a  document  ?  If  then,  with  evidence 
as  convincing  as  that  of  ocular  demonstration,  he  tells  us  that  there  is  a 
writing  in  the  inner  chamber  of  his  soul — that  this  is  a  certificate  of  the 
truthfulness  of  Christianity  ;  that  he  has  scanned  it  and  perused  it ;  that 
to  deny  it  were  to  deny  his  very  existence — if  with  such  testimony,  from 
such  a  quarter,  we  will  not  admit  the  self-evidencing  power  of  the  truth 
of  Christianity,  we  can  have  no  higher. 

But  this  is  the  united  and  concurrent  testimony  of  Christians,  and  as 
such  it  is  entitled  to  a  high  place  among  the  arguments  for  the  truth 
of  Christianity.  It  is,  in  fact,  God's  own  argument  to  the  soul.  All 
other  arguments  are  collected  from  circumstances  of  which  the  reasoning 


780  EGBERT    IRVINE. 

and  observing  faculties  take  cognizance  ;  but  this  is  an  argument  clerived 
from  the  "  Spirit  of  God,  witnessing  with  our  si:)irits  that  we  are  the 
children  of  God."  That  the  infidel  can  not  understand  it— that  he  can 
not  appreciate  it — we  do  not  wonder.  Before  he  can  understand  it,  he 
must  become  a  Christian,  That  men  like  Hume  should  reject  it,  Ave  do 
not  wonder,  because  it  is  an  argument  addressed  to  the  heart,  not  to  the 
head.  But  that  minds  as  great  as  his,  hearts  as  benevolent  as  his,  felt 
its  suasion,  believed  in  its  authenticity,  and  relied  on  its  testimony,  we 
fearlessly  maintain.  If  we  should  multij)ly  the  names  already  introduced 
by  one  thousand  or  one  million,  our  argument  is  strengthened  in  the 
same  ratio.  Every  Christian  philosopher  introduced  into  our  calcula- 
tion, adds  so  much  weight  to  our  argument ;  and  here  we  might  sum- 
mon all  the  testimony  of  all  God's  saints  from  the  days  of  Enoch,  who, 
"  before  his  translation,  had  this  testimony,  that  he  pleased  God,"  till 
the  present  moment.  And  if,  as  has  already  been  demonstrated,  there 
shall  be  found  only  as  many  learned  Christians  on  the  one  side,  as  there 
are  learned  skeptics  on  the  other,  then  the  argument  is  unquestionably 
on  the  side  of  Christianity,  inasmuch  as  to  all  other  arguments  we  can 
append  this — the  argument  from  experience.  And  supposing,  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  that  one,  or  two,  or  ten,  or  an  hundred  of  the  most 
learned  and  most  talented  of  our  Christian  divines  were  mistaken,  and 
their  alleged  experience  were  a  mere  imaginary  thing,  is  it  likely  that 
the  whole  class  of  Christians  in  all  ages,  and  in  all  countries,  could  be  so 
deceived  ?  How  comes  it  that  they  all/ee?  the  same  emotions,  that  they 
all  speah  the  same  language,  that  they  all  experience  the  same  conflict, 
that  they  all  contend  against  the  same  spiritual  opposition,  and  that  they 
all  aspire  with  the  very  same  assiduity  after  immortality  ?  Is  it  not  that 
they  are  all  subjects  of  the  same  government,  and  that  they  are  all 
taught  by  the  same  divine  preceptor  ?  This  uniformity  of  feeling  and  of 
sentiment,  argues  a  unity  of  design  and  a  unity  of  operation  ;  and 
whether  men  maintain  that  this  is  the  work  of  a  person,  or  merely  an 
influence^  it  is  manifest  there  is  such  a  unity  in  the  cause,  and  such  a 
uniformity  in  the  effect,  as  must  satisfy  every  intelligent  and  rational 
Christian,  that  he  is  indebted  to  a  dimne  person  for  his  Christianity,  and 
though  he  sees  not  the  visible  agent,  "  descending  like  a  dove  in  bodily 
shape,  and  abiding  upon  him,"  as  upon  his  Lord  at  Jordan,  still  he  is  not 
the  less  convinced  on  that  account  of  the  existence^  personality ^  and  real 
divinity  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

But  this  argument  is  deemed  by  some  unphilosophical.  We  regard 
that  a  i^hilosophical  principle  which  exhiliits  the  relationship  between 
cause  and  effect.  It  is  not  deemed  unplulosoj)hical  to  maintain,  that 
experience  and  observation  are  the  two  grand  sources  of  knowledge. 
Now  it  appears,  from  remarks  already  made,  that  these  are  the  two 
grand  sources  from  which  the  knowledge  is  derived  whereon  we  ground 
our  argument.     The  word  of  God  without,  and  the  Spirit  of  God  within 


POWER     CF     T..  i]     TRUTH.  7S1 

are  the  two  graud  sources  of  intelligence,  from  which  we  derive  our 
knowledge  of  the  truth  of  Christianity. 

Hence  our  argument  is  no  more  unphilosophical  than  the  argument 
of  Locke  or  Newton,  Locke  was  conscious  of  certain  trains  of  thou"-ht 
passing  within  his  own  mind,  and  he  found,  by  examination,  tliat  shnilav 
ti-ains  of  thought  existed  in  the  minds  of  other  men,  hence  his  Essay  on 
the  Human  Understanding.  Who  will  deny  that  such  a  book  is  a  philo- 
sophical book  ?  Newton  perceived  that  the  prismatic  colors,  when  ar- 
ranged in  a  certain  way,  produced  a  particular  picture  on  his  own  eye, 
and,  by  observation,  he  discovered  that  they  produced  similar  eifects  on 
the  eyes  of  others,  and  hence  his  Treatise  on  Optics.  The  same  might 
be  said  of  every  other  author  in  metaphysical  and  physical  science,  and 
yet  the  skeptic  will  not  deny  that  the  arguments  based  on  observation 
and  experience,  are  philosophical  in  other  departments  of  learning. 
Why,  then,  deny  the  Christian  the  same  privilege  you  grant  to  the 
mctaj^hysician  or  other  natural  philosopher  ?  If  you  admit  that  Locke 
and  Newton  are  phiIoso})hers,  that  their  works  ai-e  specimens  of  philo- 
sophical literature,  unparalleled  for  accuracy  of  thought,  and  perspicuity 
of  demonstration,  then,  on  the  same  principle,  you  are  bound  to  admit 
that  such  works  as  Dr.  Alexander  on  "  Christian  Experience,"  "  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  the  biograpliical  sketches  of  many  a  saint  of 
God,  to  which  we  might  allude,  are  as  philosoj^hical  as  the  works  al- 
ready adverted  to.  Alexander  derived  his  information,  and  collected 
the  material,  which  he  so  admirably  arranged  and  analyzed,  evidently 
from  observation  and  experience — the  very  sources  fi-om  which  Locke 
and  Newton  derived  their  information.  And  wherein  do  they  difter  ? 
Only  in  the  field  of  inquiry  over  which  they  respectively  travel.  New- 
ton traverses  the  field  of  matter.  Lock  the  field  of  mind.  Alexander 
the  field  of  spirit.  The  first  explores  the  regions  of  j^hysical  science,  the 
second  those  of  metaphysical  science,  and  the  third  those  of  moral  and 
spiritual  science.  Observation  and  experience  being  the  grand  sources 
wherein  each  derives  his  knowledge. 

But  Ave  maintain  that  whatever  exhibits  the  relationship  between 
cause  and  efiect  is  philosophical.  And.  where  do  we  find  this  relation- 
ship more  clearly  demonstrated  than  in  the  Spirit's  working  upon  a 
human  heart?  Here  is  a  man  who  complains  of  thirst.  He  can  not  ex- 
plain to  you  the  various  circumstances  which  have  contributed  to  pro- 
duce this  thirst,  but  he  experiences  the  feeling.  Again,  you  administer 
a  quantity  of  water  to  this  thirsty  man.  He  is  not  a  chemist,  and  there- 
fore he  can  not  analyze  the  water,  and  t*jll  you  how  many  particles  of 
oxygen,  and  how  many  particles  of  hydiogen  it  contains.  Nor  is  it  ne- 
cessary that  he  should.  He  receives  the  beverage,  and  his  thirst  is 
immediately  quenched.  But  supposing  a  physician  were  to  attempt  to 
persuade  him  that  he  is  not  thirsty,  and  a  chemist  were  to  attempt  to 
reason  hira  into  the  idea  that  the  beverage  he  solicits  will  not  quench 


782  ROBERT    IRVINE, 

his  thirst,  is  it  not  manifest  that  a  single  draught  of  the  water,  when 
received,  exhibits  much  more  clearly  the  relationship  between  cause  and 
eftect,  than  all  the  theories  of  the  physician  on  the  one  hand,  and  all  the 
analysis  of  the  chemist  on  the  other.  Who,  then,  is  the  philosopher? 
Undoubtedly  the  man  who  has,  from  a  firm  and  irrepressible  belief  in 
the  cause,  experienced  and  rez.lized  the  effect.  But  the  relationship  be- 
tween cause  and  effect  is  not  more  clearly  demonstrable  m  any  dej)art- 
ment  of  physical  science,  than  it  is  in  Christianity.  Every  one  familiar 
with  the  history  of  Saul  of  Tarsus,  must  admit,  that  Saul  the  persecutoi', 
and  Paul,  the  preacher  of  righteousness,  differ  so  widely,  as  to  afford 
unequivocal  proof  that  a  change  has  taken  place.  Now,  let  any  Hume, 
or  Volney,  or  Paine,  or  Lord  Herbert,  account  for  this  change.  These 
men,  as  philosophers,  believe  in  cause  and  effect — biit  here  is  the  effect, 
and  they  can  not  point  to  any  legitimate  cause.  Where,  then,  is  the 
defect  ?  Not  in  Christianity,  for  it  assigns  a  cause.  It  reveals  and  ex- 
plains the  cause,  and  therefore  the  defect  is  in  infidelity  itself  Infidelity 
charges  us  with  defectiveness  in  philosophy,  but  we  perceive  that  the 
defect  is  not  in  Christianity,  for  it  demonstrates  the  relationship  between 
every  effect  and  its  legitimate  cause,  while  infidelity,  looking  at  the 
changes  produced  in  the  mmds  of  such  men  as  Paul,  John  Bunyan,  John 
Newton,  and  many  others,  feels  utterly  unable  to  account  for  them. 
Every  Christian,  then,  is  a  better  philosopher  than  an  infidel.  He  can 
trace  the  effects  which  have  been  produced  in  his  own  heart  and  life  to 
an  adequate  cause,  while  the  infidel  is  compelled,  in  looking  at  the 
Christian  as  he  once  was,  and  as  he  now  is,  to  regard  him  as  an  anomaly 
in  philosophy — an  effect  without  a  cause. 

Every  real  Christian  is  satisfied  that  his  Christianity  is  divine,  and 
every  real  Christian  can  give  such  a  philosophical  account  of  his  Chris- 
tianity, as  exhibits  the  doctrine  of  cause  and  effect,  although  he  may  be 
ignorant  of  the  method  of  operation.  Two  sick  men  receive  medicine 
and  are  cured — the  one  a  physician,  the  other  a  peasant — the  effect  is  the 
same  in  both  cases — it  is  a  cure.  The  one  can  explain  the  nature  of  its 
action,  and  the  suitableness  of  the  medicine  to  the  disease  in  question,  the 
other  can  not ;  both,  however,  can  trace  the  cure  to  its  legitimate  cause 
— each  has  the  witness  in  himself,  and  there  is  a  relation  between  the 
medicine  and  the  restoration  to  health.  It  is  so  in  Christianity.  Every 
man  who  has  received  Christianity  in  his  heart,  has  the  evidence  in  him- 
self that  it  is  of  God.  A  change  has  passed  upon  him  which  no  power 
but  a  divine  could  accomplish — a  transformation  has  taken  place  in  his 
moral  system,  which  no  agency  save  an  omnipotent  could  effect — a 
revolution  has  been  produced  in  his  thoughts,  feelings,  and  emotions,  as 
great  as  though  heaven  and  earth  had  been  moved — a  miracle  has  been 
wrought  in  his  soul  as  great  as  that  which  awoke  the  body  of  Lazarus 
from  the  slumbers  of  the  tomb.  And  though  one,  or  ten,  or  ten  mil- 
lions of  skeptics  were  to  deny  it,  his  belief  is  not  shaken  by  their  in- 
lidL'lity  ;  for  "  he  Juith  the  tcitness  in  himself?'' 


€\t    lllehlj    fitlpit. 


VJaBattrefemaa-fe^^'" 


/?.€€^- 


^^L^&^ 


DISCOURSE    LTI. 

WILLIAM      ROBERTS. 

The  TVehh  element  in  the  present  American  religious  influence,  is  quite  import- 
ant. It  were  easy  to  form  a  long  list  of  preachers  who  are,  by  descent  or  immigra- 
tion, "Welshmen;  and  the  number  of  lay  members  is  greater  than  is  generally 
supposed.  In  New  York  city  alone,  they  amount  to  some  nine  thousand,  and  are 
composed  of  Wesleyans,  Baptists,  Congi-egationalists,  and  Calvinists  (or  Calvinistic 
Methodists).  Of  these,  the  last-named  body  is  probably  most  numerous  :  it  num- 
bered, in  1854,  in  the  United  States,  sixty-seven  preachers,  and  ninety-two  churches. 
In  Wales,  their  membership,  the  same  year,  was  59,377.  The  religious  head-quar- 
ters of  this  denomination,  in  New  York,  is  in  Allen-street ;  and  they  have  to  their 
ministry  the  subject  of  this  sketch. 

Mr.  Roberts  was  born  September  25th,  1809,  at  Llanerchymedd,  in  the  Island  of 
Anglesea,  North  Wales,  of  parents  in  humble  life,  and  brought  up  in  connection  with 
the  Calvinistic  Methodist  church.  There  are  two  sons,  beside  himself,  who  are  m.in- 
isters.  He  was  the  subject  of  powerful  convictions  of  sin  when  about  fourteen  years 
of  age,  and  was  savingly  impressed  by  reading,  alternately  with  his  mother,  on  a 
Sabbath  evening,  the  first  chapter  of  John's  first  epistle,  especially  the  eighth  verse. 

After  attending  the  school  in  his  native  village,  and  when  sixteen  years  of  age,  he 
was  placed  under  the  tuition  of  Rev.  W.  Griffith,  Congregational  minister,  Holy- 
head, where  he  studied  the  elements  of  the  English  language  and  classics.  When 
twenty  years  old,  he  entered  the  Presl^yterian  Collegiate  Institution,  Ormond  Quay, 
Dublin,  where  he  studied  mathematics,  the  classics,  etc. 

He  was  licensed  to  preach  by  the  Synod,  or  Quarterly  Association,  in  June, 
1831,  and  resided  at  Holyhead,  and  itinerated  on  the  Island  of  Anglesea,  until  May, 
1849,  when,  upon  the  unanimous  invitation  of  the  Liverpool  Presbytery,  he  became 
pastor  of  an  English  church  at  Runcorn,  which  belonged  to  the  Countess  of  Hun- 
tington's connection.  In  this  charge  he  was  greatly  blessed  in  the  work  of  winning 
souls  to  Christ.  He  is  now  pastor  of  the  Welsh  Calvinistic  Methodist  church,  Allen- 
street,  New  York,  having  come  to  the  United  States  at  the  urgent  and  unanimous 
call  of  the  church,  and  with  the  prospect  of  rendering  greater  service  to  Messiahs 
kingdom. 

Mr.  Roberts  has  put  forth  a  publication  "  On  the  Abrahamic  Covenant,"  and  one 
"  On  the  Election  of  Grace."  He  is  now  editor  of  a  Welsh  quarterly,  called  tlie 
" Traethodydd,"  or  "Essayist." 

As  a  preacher,  Mr.  Roberts  possesses,  in  a  happy  degree,  some  of  the  marked 
peculiarities  of  the  Welsli  pulpit.  His  manner  is  animated  and  energetic,  his  matter 
rich  in  gospel  truths,  and  his  general  style  simple,  passionate,  illusirative,  and  im- 
pressive.   The  following  discourse  has  not  before  been  pubhshed. 

50 


786  WILLIAM    ROBERTS. 

CHRIST   THE   MIGHTY   SAVIOUR. 

"  Mighty  to  save." — Isaiah,  Ixiii.  1. 

The  redemption  of  sinners  is  effected  through  a  wonderful  procesa 
of  conquest  and  destruction.  In  the  accomplishment  of  the  stupendous 
scheme  of  our  salvation,  the  deliverance  of  the  soul  is  invariably  the 
result  of  victory  and  devastation.  Four  mighty  empires  are  vanquished 
and  demolished  in  the  rescue  of  sinners  from  the  state  of  their  spiritual 
thralldrom — the  kingdom  of  Satan,  the  dominion  of  sin,  the  supremacy 
of  the  world,  and  the  empire  of  death.  In  regard  of  the  moral  govern- 
ment  of  Jehovah,  there  exists  a  most  suitable  and  effective  provision  for 
its  pacification,  its  exaltation,  and  its  establishment  in  the  highest  honor 
and  dignity.  "  It  is  magnified  nnd  made  honorable."  Hence  it  appears, 
that  the  grand  design  propounded  therein,  is,  not  to  overcome  and  de- 
stroy, but  to  propitiate  and  glorify  the  constituent  principles  of  the 
divine  government.  Xevertheless,  the  tyrannical  and  opj)ressive  domin- 
ions of  Satan,  sin,  the  world,  and  death  must  be  overthrown  and  abol- 
ished in  order  to  complete  the  salvation  of  human  sinners;  "for  he 
(Christ)  must  reign  till  he  hath  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet."  To  effect 
this  great  undertaking  on  legitimate  grounds,  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary for  the  eternal  Son  of  God  to  propitiate  and  magnify  the  divine 
government  by  a  sufficient  ransom,  even  his  precious  blood.  The  media- 
torial throne  of  Christ  as  the  King  of  Zion,  has  been  founded  and  erected 
upon  the  merits  of  his  atoning  sacrifice  as  a  Priest.  Hence  the  elements 
of  his  priestly  office  constitute  the  basis  of  the  power  and  authority  of 
his  kingly  office  ;  and  the  great  work  which  he  accomplishes  in  the  lat- 
ter capacity,  is,  the  actual  redemption  of  sinners  by  overcoming  and 
destroying  their  bitter  and  cruel  enemies.  His  meritorious  victory  over 
these  powerful  empires  through  his  atonement  as  a  Priest,  was  prepara- 
tory to  his  effectual  triumph  over  them  as  a  king,  by  the  influences  of 
his  Spirit.  He  bruised  the  serpent's  head  on  the  cross,  that  he  might 
actually  redeem  sinners  from  the  jjower  of  Satan.  He  overcame  -the 
world  in  its  insults  and  proffered  honors,  that  he  might  save  his  people 
from  the  enchanting  pomps  and  vanities  of  "  the  present  evil  world." 
He  finished  transgression  in  respect  to  its  punishment,  in  order  to  destroy 
the  reigning  power  of  sin  in  the  soul.  He  swallowed  uj)  death  in  vic- 
tory, tliat  he  might  shelter  believers  from  the  venomous  sting  of  death. 
Thus  his  ineritorious  triumph  on  the  cross,  is  to  be  regarded  as  the 
ground  of  his  actual  triumph  by  the  gospel. 

.And  besides,  the  ascendancy  of  the  benign  principles  of  Messiah's 
kingdom  in  the  world,  will  doubtless  be  realized  through  the  interposi- 
tion of  providence,  in  the  overthrow  and  demolition  of  those  civil  powera 
which  stand  opposed  to  the  prevalency  of  its  interests. 

Thus  it  is  evident  that  the  salvation  of  sinners  individually^  and  the 


CHRIST    THE    MIGHTY    SAVIOUR.  787 

redemption  of  the  work!  universally^  are  accomplished  by  a  mysterious 
dispensation  of  victory  and  destruction. 

Our  Lord,  in  the  ilhistrious  prophecy  of  which  the  text  forms  a  part, 
is  beautiflilly  represented  as  a  mighty  conqueror  returning  in  triumpli 
from  the  field  of  battle,  having  his  garments  covered  with  the  blood  oi 
his  enemies,  appearing  "  as  one  that  treadeth  in  the  winefat."  The 
prophet  being  struck  with  his  majestic  appearance,  anxiously  inquires, 
"  who  is  this  that  cometh  from  Edora,  with  dyed  garments  from  Bozrah  ?" 

NoAV,  mark,  the  kingdom  of  Edom  or  Idumea  of  which  Bozrah  was 
the  chief  city,  was  a  ri\al  and  an  enemy  of  the  Jews,  the  people  of  God. 
The  word  Edom  signifies  red,  as  is  blood ;  and  Bozrah  means  vintage. 
According  to  the  prophetical  idiom,  this  denotes  God's  vengeance  on  his 
enemies.  Now,  Edom  and  Bozrah,  in  reference  to  the  Messiah,  are  to  be 
understood  mystically  and  not  literally.  The  Jewish  writers  have  gen- 
erally supposed  that  Edom,  in  the  language  of  prophecy,  stands  for  Rome. 
And  it  is  an  undoubted  fact,  that  both  pagan  and  papal  Rome  have  been 
avowed  and  cruel  enemies  to  the  true  Christian  church,  just  as  Edom 
was  to  the  Jewish  church.  And  Bozrah  being  the  capital  of  Edom, 
mystically  means,  the  chief  seat  of  their  power. 

Some  are  of  opinion  that  the  i:>rophecy  refers  to  the  subversion  of  j^a- 
gan  Rome,  through  the  advancement  of  Constantino  the  Great,  to  the 
imperial  throne.  Moreover  it  is  to  have  a  further  and  fuller  accomplish- 
rnent  in  the  final  destruction  of  papal  Rome,  and  all  the  anti-Christian 
powers  of  Europe.  But,  we  must  bear  in  mind,  that  there  is  an  insep- 
arable connection  between  the  triumphs  of  Christ's  atonement,  and  all 
his  future  achievements,  inasmuch  as  the  former  is  the  cause,  and  the 
latter  the  eftect. 

In  all  his  triumphs  Messiah  appears  arrayed  in  glorious  apparel,  as 
some  mighty  Prince,  and  traveling,  not  as  one  wearied  with  the  combat, 
but  "  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength,"  able  and  prepared  to  vanquish 
all  opposing  powers.  And  when  it  was  asked,  "  Who  is  this,"  etc.,  Mes- 
siah himself  answers,  "I  that  speak  in  rigliteousness."  I,  who  pro- 
nounce sentence  in  righteousness  upon  my  enemies ;  and  am  "  mighty 
to  save"  ray  church  from  the  tyranny  and  oppression  of  her  adversaries. 

Having  made  these  preliminaiy  remarks,  let  me  invite  your  attention 
to  what  is  implied,  and  what  is  declared  in  the  text.  The  truth  implied, 
is,  the  misery,  wretchedness,  and  danger  of  man's  state  by  nature.  The 
truth  declared,  is,  the  all-sufficiency  of  Christ's  power  to  save  him  from 
las  lost  and  ruined  condition — "  mighty  to  save." 

I.  Let  us  notice  the  misery,  wketciiedxess,  axd  danger  of  man's 

STATE    BY   NATURE. 

The  terms  Saviour,  salvation,  and  to  save,  imply  that  the  condition  of 
man  by  nature,  is  one  of  misery  and  danger.  His  state  is  such  as  to 
require  a  mighty  Saviour. 


788  WILLIAK    BOBERTb. 

1.  "We  remark,  that  man  is  in  a  lost  and  perishing  condiUon.  ITuman- 
ity  is  defined,  in  the  language  of  inspiration,  as  "  that  wliich  was  lost." 
Here  man  is  represented  under  the  diflerent  emblems  of  a  lost  sheep, 
and  a  criminal  sentenced  to  die.  As  a  lost  sheep,  he  has  abandoned  God, 
his  faithful  and  provident  shepherd  ;  he  has  departed  from  the  sheepfold 
of  his  covenant ;  he  has  broken  over  the  limits  of  his  law ;  he  has  strayed 
from  the  fruitful  land  of  his  favor,  into  the  sterile  wilderness  of  this 
world,  and  here  he  is  surrounded  by  the  devouring  wolves  of  worldly 
lusts,  and  the  roaring  lions  of  the  infernal  den,  exposed  to  all  their  cruelty, 
ferocity,  and  destructive  powers.  Now  Christ,  the  good  shepherd,  must 
be  "  mighty  to  save,"  ere  he  could  rescue  sinners  from  under  the  claws, 
nay,  from  the  very  jaws  of  such  powei'ful  and  unsatiated  monsters. 

Again,  man  is  described  in  the  sacred  volume  as  a  culprit  under  the 
awful  sentence  of  death.  "  Judgment  is  come  upon  all  men  to  condem- 
nation."  "  He  that  believeth  not,  is  condemned  ah-eady."  "  We  have 
before  proved,"  says  the  Apostle  Paul,  "  both  Jews  and  Gentiles,  that 
they  are  all  under  sin,"  ^.  e.,  we  have  proved  from  the  records  of  the 
court  of  heaven,  that  all  have  been  found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  die 
eternally.  There  it  is  written,  "there  is  none  righteous,  no,  not  one." 
"  The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die."  Now,  the  sentence  thus  denounced 
against  man  is  strictly  just,  immutable,  and  unalterable,  though  transfei*- 
able  ;  and,  indeed,  it  involves  in  its  nature  an  infinite  punishment.'  Hei  e 
you  may  easily  perceive,  that  Christ  must  be  "  mighty  to  save,"  before  he 
could  possibly  suffer  an  infinite  punishment  in  a  definite  period  of  time. 

2.  We  observe,  that  the  state  of  man,  by  nature,  is  that  of  poverty — 
of  degradation — of  misery. 

Now,  my  fellow-sinners,  think  not  that  I  am  speaking  only  of  the  dark 
and  benighted  heathen — of  the  wild  tribes  of  Africa,  or  the  wandering 
hordes  of  Arabia,  or  the  savage  and  barbarous  Indians,  or  even  the  mass 
of  the  degraded,  deluded,  and  abandoned  beings  about  you : — no^  no, 
"ifAowartthe  man."  Though  rolling  in  wealth  and  afiluence;  thov;gli 
occupying  respectable  positions  in  society,  and  though  adorned  with  all 
the  imposing  accompaniments  of  knowledge  and  learning,  yet  in  a  moral 
point  of  view  thou  art  in  a  state  of  poverty,  degradation,  and  misery. 
Thou  mayest  be  unconscious  of  it ;  but  in  reality  this  is  thy  condition. 

Man  is  so  awfully  ruined  by  sin,  that  the  Holy  Spirit  employs  the 
most  striking  and  lively  figures  to  represent  it.  He  is  described  as  dis- 
eased— as  leprous.  Leprosy  is  an  incurable  disease  to  all  human  agency. 
Man's  wisdom  and  skill  have  proved  themselves  too  weak  to  overcome 
its  fatal  ravages.  Nevertheless,  the  great  Physician  of  souls  is  so  mighty 
in  skill  and  Avisdom,  that  he  has  provided  an  infallible  remedy  for  the 
leprosy  of  sin. 

Man  is  farther  stated  to  be  blind,  naked,  and  dead.  He  has  been  horn 
blind  ;  his  nakedness  is  of  such  a  character,  that  no  means  of  coveiing 
could  be  devised,  by  any  created  understanding ;  and  he  is  so  dead  in 


CHRIST    THE     MIGHTY     SAVIOUR.  789 

tresiDasses  and,  sins  as  to  swarm  abundantly  of  the  morbid  and  filthy- 
worms  of  corruption  and  depravity.  Now,  the  Saviour  must  be  mighty 
in  ability  and  ingenuity,  or  he  could  never  open  the  eyes  of  one  that  has 
been  horn  in  moral  blindness.  He  must  be  mighty  ha  his  work,  otherwise 
he  could  not  have  wrought  a  robe  of  righteousness  to  cover  the  naked 
ness  of  man's  guilt,  from  the  all-seeing  eye  of  the  heart-searching  God 
He  must  be  mighty  in  power  and  authority,  or  he  could  not  dehver  man 
from  the  strong  grasp  of  spiritual  death,  and  restore  him  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  Ufe  of  holiness  and  happiness. 

Again,  man  is  represented  as  a  debtor — as  a  prisoner — as  a  slave.  His 
liabilities  are  infinitely  beyond  his  power  of  discharging  them.  He  is  a 
moral  bankrupt ;  and  has  nothing  to  pay.  He  is  a  prisoner  lawfully 
committed  into  the  custody  of  divine  justice.  His  hopes  are  cut  ofl",  so 
far  as  himself  is  concerned.  And  besides,  he  is  reduced  to  a  state  of 
bondage,  being  the  willing  slave  of  Satan,  who  holds  him  captive  at  his 
will.  Now,  the  Saviour  must  be  mighty  in  wealth — the  treasures  of  his 
merit  must  be  inexhaustible,  otherwise  he  could  not  pay  man's  enormous 
debt.  His  atonement  must  be  mighty  in  value  and  virtue,  or  it  could 
never  have  satisfied  the  demands  of  divine  justice,  so  as  to  eflect  the 
liberation  of  the  prisoner.  And  he  must  be  mighty  in  strength  and  in- 
fluence, or  else  he  could  not  baflle  the  power  of  Satan,  and  win  over  the 
heart  of  the  poor  slave  into  his  holy  service 

3.  We  remark  that  the  natural  condition  of  man  is  a  state  of  moral 
impotency.  In  reference  to  this  the  great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles  says, 
"  For  when  we  were  yet  without  strength,  in  due  time  Christ  died  for 
the  ungodly."  He  is  utterly  incapable  of  rescuing  himself.  He  has  lost 
the  divine  image,  and  consequently  has  lost  his  moral  beauty  and  excel- 
lence ;  he  can  not  find  a  substitute  for  it  in  all  his  invented  artificials,  or 
his  imagined  good  qualities.  He  has  lost  his  spiritual  liberty,  and  there- 
fore has  lost  the  very  elements  of  his  happiness  ;  and  he  can  not  redeem 
it  by  any  sacrifice  whatever.  "  The  redemption  of  his  soul  is  precious, 
and  it  ceaseth  forever,"  as  regards  any  provision  of  his  own.  He  has 
lost  the  divine  favor,  and,  consequently,  has  lost  all  claim  to  the  protec- 
tion of  his  Maker ;  and  it  is  infinitely  beyond  his  poAver  to  regain  it.  O, 
the  great  loss  of  man  through  sin  !  It  is  enough  to  make  angels  weep. 
To  his  case  may  be  applied  the  doleful  cry  of  Jeremiah  with  respect  to 
the  desolations  of  Jerusalem  and  tlije  temple,  "  How  is  the  gold  become 
dim  !  How  is  the  most  fine  gold  changed  !  the  stones  of  the  sanctuary 
are  poured  out  in  the  top  of  every  street."  Is  it  not  truly  lamentable 
and  heart-rending  to  behold  God's  lieutenant  on  earth  the  abject  slave 
of  Satan? — the  honorable  and  noble  creature,  man,  reduced  to  the  most 
degrading,  fiUhy,  and  loathsome  oftices? — he  who  wore  the  precious  and 
glittering  diadem  of  holiness  and  happiness,  cast  into  the  dungeon  of  im- 
purity,  corruption  and  misery  ? — he  who  was  created  in  God's  image  ex- 
changed  into  that  of  a  demon  ?    Awful  reflection  ! 


790  WILLIAM    ROBEKTS. 

4.  Another  doleful  feature  of  man's  state  by  nature,  is  his  irvsensihillty  to 
misery  and  exposure.  He  is  unconscious  of  his  danger.  This  character 
istic  of  his  condition  exhibits  it  in  a  still  more  wretched  and  deplorable  as- 
pect. Although  he  is  in  the  power  of  Satan,  as  a  slave  in  the  possession  of 
a  pitiless  tyrant,  yet  is  he  insensible  to  the  degradation  of  his  position. 
Though  he  stands,  as  it  were,  on  the  precipice  of  eternal  perdition,  yet  is  he 
vmconscious  of  his  imminent  peril.  He  is  asleep  under  the  influence  of 
moral  lethargy.  Though  the  fell  disease  of  sin  is  rapidly  devastating  his 
soul,  yet  he  feels  not  his  ruin.  He  labors  under  the  fearful  malady  of  spirit- 
tied  insanity.  He  thoughtlessly  laughs  at  things  which  should  make  him 
weep  bitterly.  He  scorns  and  sneers  at  truths  which  shoidd  overwhelm  him 
with  fear  and  trembling.  He  treats  with  perfect  contempt  those  things 
which  might  prove  of  substantial  and  eternal  benefit  to  his  soul.  He  is  mor- 
ally  mad.  These  are  the  real  features  of  the  wretchedness  and  misery  of 
man's  state  by  nature.  He  is  fallen  !  He  is  fallen  !  What  shall  become 
of  him  ?  Shall  we  give  him  up  as  eternally  lost  ?  Shall  we  entomb  him 
in  the  grave-yard  of  despair  ?  Shall  we  commit  him  to  the  dungeon  of 
irreparable  misery  ?  No,  no.  Is  there  hope  of  his  recovery  ?  Yes. 
Look  !  Behold  !  Gaze  !  "  Who  is  this  that  cometh  from  Edom,  with 
dyed  garments  from  Bozrah  ;  this  that  is  glorious  in  his  apparel,  travel- 
ing in  the  greatness  of  his  strength  ?"  Hear,  O  heavens,  and  give  ear,  O 
earth  !  for  the  glorious  personage  authoritatively  replies,  "  I  that  speak 
in  righteousness  and  am  mighty  to  save."  This  naturally  leads  us  to 
what  is  expressed  in  the  text,  even  the  all-sufliciency  of  Christ's  power 
to  save  man  from  his  lost  and  ruined  condition — "  mighty  to  save.'''' 

n.  Now  observe  Christ's  power  to  save  the  wretched  axd  the 
LOST,     This  appears  evident  if  we  consider  three  things. 

1.  His  pre-eminent  qualifications  as  a  Saviour. 

2.  The  nature  and  extent  of  the  salvation  which  he  accomplishes. 

3.  The  examples  of  his  saving  power  as  exhibited  in  the  Scriptures. 
We  observe  1.  That  he  is  mighty  to  save,  because  his  qualifications 

for  the  stupendous  undertaking  are  incomparable.    His  qualifications  are 
twofold,  personal  and  oflicial. 

Let  us  notice  his  personal  qualifications.  "  Great  is  the  mystery  of 
godliness.  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh,"  in  order  "  to  seek  and  to  save 
that  which  was  lost."  God  and  man  have  been  united  together  in  his 
person  ;  the  Son  of  God  has  become  the  Son  of  man ;  the  supreme  na- 
ture in  heaven,  and  the  most  excellent  upon  earth,  have  been  linked 
together ;  for  what  purpose  ?  That  he  might  be  "  mighty  to  save." 
Heaven  and  earth ;  eternity  and  time ;  finitude  and  infinitude ;  the 
Creator  and  creature,  have  been  inseparably  united  in  his  person.  He 
must  be  "  mighty  to  save."  As  man,  he  was  capable  of  bleeding  and 
suflering  ;  for  "  without  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no  remission."  Aa 
God,  he  was  sufiiciently  able  to  sustain  the  tremendous  weight  of  divine 


CHRIST    THE     MIGHTY     SAVIOUR.  791 

wrath — a  burden  which  would  have  unavoidably  crushed  the  whole  hu- 
man race,  nay,  the  whole  universe  of  intelligences,  had  it  come  in  contact 
with  it,  to  the  very  dej^ths  of  hell.  As  man,  he  was  capable  of  dying  in 
our  room  and  stead ;  as  God,  he  was  able  to  impart  infinite  value  and 
merit  to  his  death.  As  man,  he  entered  into  the  very  territories  of 
death,  and  permitted  "  the  king  of  terrors"  to  bind  him  in  his  iron  chains  ; 
as  God,  he  broke  them  asunder  "  as  a  thread  of  tow  is  broken  when  it 
toucheth  the  fire,"  and  rose  triumphantly,  having  deprived  the  governor 
of  the  prison  of  his  keys.  "  I  have  the  keys  (says  he)  of  hell  and  of 
death."     "  Miglity  to  save." 

Let  us  again  briefly  observe  his  official  qualifications.  He  sustained 
the  office  of  a  Saviour  by  divine  appointment.  He  has  been  delegated, 
authorized,  and  commissioned  to  save  by  the  supreme  Governor  of  the 
universe;  hence  he  says  he  was  anointed,  and  sent  "to  bind  up  the 
broken-hearted,  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  cajitives,  and  the  opening  of 
the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound."  He  has  received  his  diploma  from 
the  highest  authority.  An  official  power  has  been  reposed  in  him.  The 
high  authority  of  God's  exalted  throne  rests  with  him  :  hence  the  salva- 
tion of  sinners  is  represented  under  the  emblem  "  of  a  pure  river  of 
water  of  life,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God."  He  appeared  upon 
earth  for  the  sublime  purpose  of  destroying  the  works  of  the  devil ;  and 
besides,  he  has  accomplished  all  that  was  necessary,  in  respect  to  merits 
to  save  sinners.  He  has  "  magnified  the  law,  and  made  it  honorable." 
He  has  endured  the  punishment  due  to  sin,  and  thereby  became  the 
propitiation  for  sin  ;  he  has  triumphed  over  man's  spiritual  foes ;  he 
"hath  abolished  death  ;"  and  he  has  ascended  into  heaven  as  a  mighty 
conqueror  to  intercede  for  transgressors.  The  stupendous  work  which 
he  has  already  accomplished,  as  preparatory  to  our  salvation,  is  a  de- 
cisive evidence  to  the  whole  universe  of  intelligences  that  "he  is  mighty 
to  save."  Devils  have  grievously  realized  the  vastness  of  his  overcom- 
ing power ;  angels  have  been  astounded  Avitnesses  of  the  exceeding- 
greatness  of  his  redeeming  power ;  and  the  Father  exultingly  glorifies 
in  the  ever-glorious  manilestations  of  his  saving  power,  saying,  "  I  have 
laid  their  help  upon  one  that  is  mighty." 

2.  The  nature  and  extent  of  the  salvation  effected  by  him,  con- 
stitute an  indisputable  evidence  of  his  mightiness  to  save.  He  is 
mighty  to  save,  in  the  first  place, 

From  the  curse  of  the  km.  "  Christ  hath  redeemed  us  from  the 
curse  of  the  law."  Infinite  power  is  embodied  in  God's  curse.  It  was 
sufficiently  mighty  to  hurl  legions  of  angels  from  the  heights  of  celestial 
happiness,  and  plunge  them  into  the  depths  of  licllish  misery.  It  was 
powerful  enough  to  open  the  Avindows  of  heaven  with  one  hand,  so  to 
speak,  and  with  the  other  to  burst  asunder  the  fountains  of  the  great 
deep,  in  order  to  drown  a  world  of  rebellious  men  with  an  overflowing 
deluge.     It  is  so  mighty  as  to  be  capable  of  inflicting  irre])arable  de- 


792  WILLIAM    ROBERTS. 

struction,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  ui^on  all  the  hosts  of  obstinate 
rebels  throughout  the  vast  dominions  of  God.  Moreover,  when  its  fiery 
cloud  burst  upon  the  head  of  the  Saviour,  it  came  in  contact  with  its 
superior,  inasmuch  as  its  devouring  flames  were  extinguished  with  his 
blood ;  and  his  ofiice  now  is,  to  save  sinners  as  brands  plucked  from  the 
burnings. 

He  is  almighty  to  save  from  the  dominion,  pollution,  and  defilement 
of  sin.  He  does  not  only  save  from  the  guilt  of  sin  involved  in  the  curse 
of  the  law,  but  also  from  the  reigning  power  and  contaminating  in- 
fluence of  sin.  The  strength  of  man's  corruption  is  terrific:  hence  it  is 
called  "  the  law  of  sin  and  death."  Its  power  is  utterly  invincible  to  all 
human  effort  and  skill.  Sin  is  stronger  than  the  energetic  and  per- 
suasive  powers  of  reason — stronger  than  the  agonizing  pangs  of  a  guilty 
conscience — stronger  than  the  potent  ties  of  the  most  endeared  friend- 
ship)— stronger  than  the  forcible  restraints  of  scientific  knowledge — 
stronger  than  the  prevailing  edicts  of  earthly  potentates- — nay,  it  has 
survived  the  most  horrible  and  desolating  judgments  of  Jehovah  him- 
self It  enfetters  men  in  its  iron  chains  in  spite  of  the  light  of  reason — 
in  spite  of  all  the  accusations  of  conscience — in  spite  of  the  bitter  tears 
of  the  dearest  friends  and  relatives — in  spite  of  respectability  and  re- 
nown— in  spite  of  the  ameliorating  efforts  of  philosophers  and  the  rapid 
advancement  of  science — in  spite  of  the  resolute  enactments  of  human 
governments ;  yea,  in  spite  of  the  frowns  and  inflictions  of  the  divine 
government.  My  fellow-sinner,  beware  of  the  delusive  and  destructive 
power  of  sin,  or  it  will  drag  you  to  the  bottomless  pit,  from  the  midst 
of  all  your  earthly  comforts.  But,  "who  is  this  that  cometh  from 
Edom,"  etc.  His  name  is  Jesus  ;  ah  !  he  is  mightier  than  sin  ;  for  "  he 
saves  his  people  from  their  sins."  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest ;  on 
earth  peace,  good-will  toward  men."  "  Our  Kedeemer  is  strong,  the 
Lord  of  hosts  is  his  name." 

He  is  almighty  to  save  from  the  poioer  and  malice  of  Satan.  In 
reference  to  this  the  inspired  apostle  says  of  himself  and  his  brethren, 
"  Who  hath  delivered  us  from  the  power  of  darkness,  and  hath  translated 
us  into  the  kingdom  of  his  dear  Son."  Satan  is  represented  imder  the 
different  emblems  of  a  "  strong  man  armed  ;"  and  a  "  roaring  lion."  As 
a  "strong  man  armed,"  he  watchfully  and  diligently  "keepeth  his 
palace"  in  the  heart  of  the  unregenerate  man  ;  but,  blessed  be  God, 
Jesus  is  "  stronger  than  he."  He  comes  upon  him  in  the  chariot  of  the 
gospel — storms  the  palace  by  the  cannons  of  conviction — overpowers  the 
tyrant — drives  out  the  usurper — divides  his  spoils,  and  then  takes  pos- 
session of  the  mansion,  so  that  henceforth,  he  dwells  therem  by  his  Spirit. 

He  is  almighty  to  save  from  the  stijig  of  death — the  power  of  the 
grave,  and  the  torath  to  come.  Death  is  a  mighty  conqueror.  Pie  ia 
not  only  "  the  king  of  terrors,"  but  the  terror  of  kings.  He  has  irre- 
sistibly driven  the  most  powerful  potentates  that  ever  flourished  from 


CHRIST    THE     MIGHTY     SAVIOUR.  793 

their  royal  palaces  into  the  small,  cold,  and  dismal  "  house  appointed 
for  all  living."  He  has  easily  triumphed  over  the  most  renowned  con- 
querors that  ever  displayed  their  skill  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  he  has 
caused  the  morbid  worm  to  crawl  upon  their  brow.  The  most  robust 
giants  that  ever  signalized  themselves  by  their  undaunted  courage  and 
strength,  have  been  crumbled  to  dust  by  his  mighty  and  chilly  hands. 
And  besides,  he  has  a  poisonous  sting,  with  which  he  envenoms  the 
soul  to  irretrievable  destruction.  And  the  grave  is  the  strong  prison  in 
which  he  incarcerates  the  human  family — there  they  are,  as  it  were, 
securely  deposited  and  locked  up,  bound  in  the  chains  of  mortality, 
while  the  power  of  God's  anger  is  sufficient  to  consume  all  the 
sources  of  the  soul's  comfort,  and  cause  it  to  weep  and  lament  thi-ough- 
out  the  u!itold  ages  of  eternity. 

But,  listen  !  a  greater  than  death  and  the  grave  is  here.  Here  also 
is  one  whose  atonement  is  an  amjile  refuge  from  the  destructive  storm 
of  divine  wrath.  He  has  gloriously  triumphed  over  the  former ;  and 
has  completely  appeased  the  fury  of  the  latter.  He  loudly  exclaims  in 
reference  to  his  people,  "I  will  ransom  them  from  the  power  of  the 
grave ;  I  will  redeem  them  from  death :  O  death,  I  will  be  thy  plague  ; 
O  grave,  I  ^ill  be  thy  destruction."  Let  us  address  him  in  the  for- 
cible words  of  the  poet : — 

"  Death  of  death,  and  hell's  destruction, 
Land  me  safe  on  Canaan's  shore : 
Songs  of  praises, 
I  -will  ever  give  to  thee." 

Finally,  the  salvation  which  he  effects  for  believers,  includes  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  soul  hito  the  full  and  eternal  enjoyment  of  heavenly  bliss  and 
glory  ;  the  resurrection  of  the  body  from  the  tomb  of  mortality  ;  and 
their  united  glorification  in  the  mansions  of  immortality  and  joy.  "Who 
shall  change  our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  his  glorious 
body,  according  to  the  workmg,"  or  as  the  Welsh  version  renders  it,  the 
mighty  working,  "  whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  unto  himself" 

3.  Let  "US  notice  the  examples  of  his  saving  power  as  exhibited  in  the 
Scriptures.  We  shall  classify  them  under  three  distinctions — sinners  of 
all  ranks  and  stations — of  all  character  and  description — in  all  circum- 
stances and  emergencies. 

He  has  saved  sinners  of  all  ranks  and  stations.  We  shall  mention 
only  one  instance  of  each  kind.  He  has  saved  a  king — David,  the 
king  of  Israel.  He  has  saved  a  prince — Abijah,  the  son  of  Jeroboam. 
He  has  saved  a  prime  minister — Daniel,  in  the  Chaldean  court.  He  has 
saved  a  lord-lieuteiiant — Joseph,  in  Egypt.  He  has  saved  a  chancellor 
of  the  exchequer — the  mighty  eunuch  under  Candace,  queen  of  Ethiopia. 
He  has  saved  a  member  of  the  Congress  or  Parliament — Nicodcmus. 
He  has  saved  a  chamberlain  of  a  royal  city — Aratus.     He  has  saved  a 


794  WILLIAM    EOBERTS. 

counselor — Joseph  of  Arimathea.  He  has  saved  an  attorney  at  Imc-' 
Zenas.  He  has  saved  a  physician — Luke.  He  has  saved  a  collegian—' 
Saul  of  Tarsus.  He  has  saved  a  collector  of  taxes^  the  chief  of  them — 
Zaccheus.  He  has  saved  a  toll-collector — Matthew.  He  lias  saved  a 
mechanic — Aquilla.  He  has  saved  a.  Jailor — the  one  in  Philippi.  Ho 
has  saved  an  unfaithfd  servant — Onesimus.  He  has  saved  a  beggar — 
Lazarus.     "  Mighty  to  save." 

He  has  saved  sinners  of  every  character.  He  has  saved  an  idolater — 
Manasseh.  He  has  saved  a  voluptuary — Solomon.  He  has  saved  a 
worldling — Zaccheus.  He  has  saved  a  blasphemer  and  persecutor — Saul 
of  Tarsus.  He  has  saved  a  backslider — Thomas.  He  has  saved  a  harlot — • 
the  woman  of  Samaria.  He  has  saved  a  thief — the  one  on  the  cross.  He 
has  saved  murderers,  nay  even  his  own  murderers.  His  blood  was  suffi- 
ciently efficacious  to  wash  away  the  stains  of  guilt  stamped  on  their  con- 
science, by  shedding  his  own  innocent  blood.  It  is  more  than  probable 
that  many  of  his  executioners  Avere  numbered  among  the  three  thousand 
souls  saved  on  the  day  of  Pentecost.  Just  observe  the  description  given 
of  the  atrocious  characters  which  he  saved  at  Corinth :  "  Fornicators, 
idolaters,  effi^minate,  abusers  of  themselves  with  mankind,  thieves,  cov- 
etous, drunkards,  revilers  and  extortioners:  and  such  were  some  of  you; 
but  ye  are  washed,  but  ye  are  sanctified,  but  ye  are  justified  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  our  God."—"  Mighty  to  save." 

He  is  mighty  to  save  in  all  circumstances  and  emergencies.  He 
saved  Thomas  from  the  powerful  grasp  of  unbelief.  He  saved  Peter  from 
under  the  destructive  claws  of  the  roaring  lion.  He  saved  Solomon  from 
the  enchanting  delusion  of  carnal  pleasure.  He  saved  Daniel  from  the 
of  ferocious  beasts.  He  saved  Shadrach,  Meshach  and  Abednego  from 
the  burning,  fiery  furnace.  Such  were  the  displays  of  his  power  on  their 
behalf,  that,  on  the  one  hand,  he  peremptorily  ordered  the  devouring 
element  to  consume  their  bands  and  fetters,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  re- 
strained it  to  singe  a  single  hair  of  their  heads,  or  even  to  pass  its  smell 
upon  their  clothes.  The  fire  had  no  power  over  them,  because  the 
mighty  Saviour  was  present  with  them.  He  saved  Jonah  from  the 
whale's  belly.  He  saved  the  thief  on  the  cross  from  the  very  jaws  of 
destruction,  and  snatched  his,  soul  into  paradise,  as  a  trophy  of  his  victory 
over  the  powers  of  darkness.  In  short,  the  immensity  of  his  power  Avill 
not  be  fully  developed,  until  the  unnumbered  multitudes  of  the  redeemed 
shall  be  exhibited  to  the  universe  of  intelligences  at  the  final  day. 

But  what  is  necessary  in  order  to  realize  the  saving  power  of  Christ 
in  our  own  souls?  We  must  be  conscious  of  our  lost  and  perishing 
condition;  we  must  renounce  all  confidence  in  human  merit,  and  sur- 
render ourselves,  as  hell-deserving  siiniers,  to  his  care  and  custody. 
May  God  grant  us  a  heart  to  believe  in  him,  being  "  fully  persuaded  that 
he  is  able  to  keep  that  which  is  committed  unto  him  against  that  day." 
Amen, 


DISCOURSE    LVII. 

W  I  L  I.  I  A  M     R  E  E  S . 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Rees  is  a  minister  among  the  Congregationalists.  His  father's  and 
mother's  names  were  David  and  Anne  Rees.  who  lived  at  a  farm  called  Cheribren 
Isaf,  in  the  parish  of  Lansanan,  Denbighsliire,  INorth  Wales,  where  William,  the 
subject  of  our  sketch,  was  born  in  the  year  1802.  He  is,  therefore,  in  his  55th 
year. 

He  entered  tlie  ministry  about  the  year  1830.  In  1831  he  received  and  accepted 
the  unanimous  call  of  the  Congregational  church  in  the  town  of  Mostyn,  Flintshire, 
N.  W.,  where  he  performed  the  onerous  duties  of  his  office  with  great  acceptance 
and  success. 

In  the  year  1837  he  accepted  the  unanimous  and  urgent  invitation  of  the  church 
assembling  in  Swan-street,  Denbigh,  N.  W.,  as  the  successor  to  the  late  devoted  and 
faithful  servant  of  Christ,  the  Rev.  D.  Roberts.  Sometime  about  the  year  1847  he 
accepted  the  unanimous  and  importunate  call  of  the  Congregational  church  assem- 
bling in  Great  Cross  Hall,  Liverpool.  About  the  year  1852  he  resigned  his  charge 
at  this  place,  and  accepted  an  invitation  from  another  church  of  the  same  persuasion 
and  in  the  same  town,  assembhng  at  Salem  Chapel,  where  he  now  remains.  In  all 
the  above  places,  he  has  been  owned  by  his  Master  as  a  "  worknian  that  needeth 
not  to  be  ashamed." 

His-  published  works  are,  "  A  Memoir  of  the  late  celebrated  and  renowned 
preacher,  the  Rev.  William  Williams,  of  Wern ;"  "  An  Essay  on  Natural  and  Re- 
vealed Rehgion ;"  "  Providence  and  Prophecy,"  which  has  been  published  in  En- 
glish. In  our  author,  there  is,  like  Moses,  a  happy  combination  of  the  preacher  and 
the  poet  Several  of  his  bardic  productions  have  appeared  in  a  volume  entitled, 
"  Camadau  Hiraethog ;  or,  the  Songs  of  Hiraothog," — "  Gwilym  Hiraethog,"  be- 
ing his  Bardic  name;  the  term  "Hiraethog"  being  borrowed  from  a  mountain 
of  that  name,  near  his  native  place.  The  most  eminent  of  his  poetic  compositions 
is  his  "  Ode  on  Peace,"  which  is  a  distinguished  lyrize  poem. 

Mr.  Rees  is  a  tall,  slender  man,  long  face  and  neck,  with  a  prominent  foreheads 
body  well-proportioned,  and  features  deeply  marked  with  the  small  pox.  He  has 
suffered  the  loss  of  one  of  his  eyes,  probably  by  the  ravages  of  that  disease.  He 
is  a  man  of  original  genius  and  philosophic  mind,  cultivated  and  refined  by  hard 
study  and  close  application.  His  self-possession,  intonation,  attitude,  fluency,  elo* 
qucnce,  and  elevated  sentiments  render  him  one  of  the  most  renowned  orators  of 
the  day.  The  following  beautiful,  condensed  discourse  will  interest  the  reader,  auJ 
give  an  idea  of  the  peculiarities  of  his  style. 


796  WILLIAM    REES. 


SORROWING  SOULS  AXD  STARRY  SYSTEMS. 

"  He  healeth  the  broken  in  heart  and  bindeth  up  their  wounds.  He  tclleth  the  uumbei 
of  the  stars ;  he  calletli  them  all  by  their  names." — Psalm  cxlvii.,  3,  4. 

In  this  Psalm,  the  hand  of  Deity  is  seen  everywhere :  building  up  Je- 
rusalem, and  gathering  together  the  outcasts  of  Israel ;  administering 
relief  to  wounded  souls,  and  guiding  the  revolutions  of  stars  ;  exalting 
the  meek,  and  casting  down  the  wicked ;  covering  the  heavens  with 
clouds  ;  pouring  the  fructifying  showers  upon  the  earth,  thus  clothing 
the  hills  with  verdure,  and  producing  supplies  for  man  and  beast;  blessing 
the  country  with  protection,  plenty,  and  peace,  and  sending  his  "Avords" 
— his  moral  influence — swiftly  through  the  earth.  In  truth,  his  agency 
here  is  traced  the  universe  through  :  in  the  bright  sky  and  the  green 
fields,  in  the  showers  and  the  hoar  frosts,  in  the  life  of  the  lower  creation, 
and  in  every  thing  pertaining  to  the  individual,  social,  and  religious  his- 
tory of  man.  The  birth  of  religion  consists  in  the  soul's  waking  up  from 
the  dream  of  common  life,  to  the  conviction  that  God  works  in  all  things. 
Its  first  words  are,  "  Surely,  God  is  in  this  place,  and  I  knew  it  riot." 

Notice  here,  God's  relation  to  sorwiomg  souls  and  the  starry  system. 

I.  His  relation  to  sorrowing  souls.  "  He  healeth  the  broken  in 
heart."  There  are  broken  hearts  and  wounded  souls  in  this  world.  The 
flowing  tear,  the  pensive  look,  the  deep-drawn  sigh  are  everywhere 
symptoms  of  sorrowing  souls.  The  whole  human  creation  is  groaning : 
there  are  hearts  broken  by  opjyressiofi,  disapjyomtnient,  calunijiy,  be- 
reavement, and  moral  conviction.  All  this  sorrow  is  of  human  origina- 
tion. It  springs  not,  as  a  necessity,  from  the  constitution  of  things — it 
comes  not  through  the  regular  working,  but  the  positive  infraction  of 
God's  laws.  Misery  is  the  creation  of  the  creature,  not  of  the  Creator. 
"  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself]^^  etc.  God  works  here  to  remove 
all  this  misery — to  heal  and  restore.  Christianity  is  the  restorative 
element  he  applies  ;  it  is  the  balm  of  Gilead ;  it  is  the  tree  whose  fruit 
is  for  the  healing  of  the  nations. 

II.  His  relation  to  starry  systems.  "  He  telleth  the  number  of 
the  stars."  Astronomy  informs  us  that  one  hundred  millions  of  stars 
may  be  seen  through  the  telescope  in  our  sky,  and  that  each  of  these  is 
the  center  of  a  system,  and  has  therefore  a  sky  of  its  own,  incalculably 
deeper  and  broader  than  these  vast  heavens  that  encircle  us.  In  this 
supposition,  there  is  involved  a  number  of  "  stars"  which  no  arithmetio 
can  compute,  and  which  baffle  all  imagination  in  the  attempt  to  appreci- 
ate. But  this,  it  would  seem,  after  all,  is  as  nothing  compared  with  the 
immeasurable  universe.  Yet  these  stars,  though  they  cover  immensity, 
thick  as  grass  on  earth's  soil,  or  as  sand  on  ocean's  shore,  are  all  known 


SORROT\'ING    SOULS     AND     STA.l.tT    SYSTEMS.        797 

to  Gofl.  "  He  telleth  the  number,"  etc.  He  knows  the  age,  produc- 
tions, size,  velocity,  influence,  and  tenants  of  each.  "  Lift  up  your  eyes 
on  higli,  and  behold  who  hath  created  these  things,  that  bringeth  out 
their  liost  by  number :  he  calleth  them  all  by  name."  He  marshals 
them  as  the  general  his  battalions,  "  He  binds  the  sweet  influence  of 
Pleiades,  and  he  looses  the  bands  of  Orion.  He  bringeth  forth  Mazzarotb 
iu  his  season,  and  he  guides  Arcturus  with  his  sons." 

Looking  at  men  in  relation  to  this  subject,  they  fall  into  tliree  grand 
classes : 

1.  Tliosc  who  deny  God's  active  relation  to  both  soids  and  stars. 
These  comprehend  two  distinct  sections  of  theoretic  infidels — those 
who  deny  the  existence  of  God  altogether,  and  those  who  admit  his  ex- 
istence, but  deny  his  superintendence  in  the  universe  ;  the  latter  regard 
all  the  phenomena  and  changes  of  nature,  as  taking  place,  not  by  the 
agency  of  God,  but  by  the  principles  or  laws  which  he  impressed  upon 
it  at  first.  The  universe  is  to  them  like  a  jjlant :  all  the  vital  forces  of 
action  are  in  itself,  and  it  will  go  on,  until  they  exhaust  and  die. 

2.  Those  who  admit  God's  active  relation  to  stars,  but  deny  it  to  soxds. 
They  say  that  it  is  derogatory  to  infinite  Majesty  to  suppose  his  taking 
any  notice  of  broken  hearts.  He  has  to  do  with  the  great,  but  not  with 
the  little.  What  is  man  to  the  world  in  which  he  lives?  He  is  as 
nothing  compared  with  its  towering  mountains,  majestic  oceans,  and 
mighty  continents.  And,  then,  what  is  this  globe  to  the  system  of 
which  it  is  a  part  ?  A  dew-drop  to  the  ocean — a  ray  to  the  sun  !  It  can 
not  be  that  the  infinite  One  would  condescend  to  notice  this  man-atom ! 

There  are  two  or  three  thoughts  which  make  this  objection  appear 
very  childish.  One  le,  that  wi«?i's  great  and  small  are  but  notions. 
When  I  say  that  a  thing  is  great,  all  I  mean  is,  that  it  is  great  to  me.  I 
call  the  tiny  leaf  on  which  I  tread  little  ;  but  to  its  insect  population  it 
is  a  vast  universe.  I  call  this  globe  great ;  but  to  the  eye  of  an  angel  it 
appears  but  a  mere  spark  in  the  sky.  To  God  there  is  nothing  great 
nor  small. 

Another  is,  tJiat  what  we  consider  smcdl,  are  influential  parts  of  the 
whole.  Science  ^>roves  that  the  motion  of  an  atom  must  propagate  influ- 
ence to  remotest  orbs  ;  that  all  created  being  is  but  one  great  chain,  of 
which  the  corpuscle  is  a  link  which,  if  touched,  will  send  its  vibration  to 
the  ultimate  points.  In  the  moral  system,  facts  show  that  the  solitary 
thought  of  an  obscure  man,  can  shake  empires,  produce  revolutions,  and 
reform  society.  Analogy  suggests,  and  Christianity  favors  the  suppo- 
sition, that  man  is  influentially  connected  Avith  the  whole  of  the  great 
spiritual  universe,  and  that  "to  principalities  and  powers  may  be  known," 
through  humble  man,  some  wonderful  things. 

Another  thought  is,  that,  even  on  the  assum2)tion  of  our  conception  of 
magiiitudes  being  correct,  ice  have  as  much  evidence  to  believe  that  God 
is  as  truly  at  work  in  the  small  as  the  great.    The  countless  myriads  of 


798  WILLIAM    REES. 

existence  revealed  by  the  microscope,  indicate  as  much  of  God  as  the 
telescopic  universe  unfolds. 

Again,  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  hum  m  souls,  though  in  suf- 
fering, are  greater  than  the  stars  in  all  their  sjylendor.  These  stars 
know  nothing  of  their  own  natures;  we  know  something  of  ours.  They 
can  not  think  of  us ;  we  can  think  of  them.  They  are  unconscious  of 
the  splendor  that  surrounds  them ;  we  are  awed  by  it.  They  know 
nothing  of  the  hand  that  made  them,  and  rolls  them  in  their  spheres  ; 
we  know  something  of  the  feeling  of  his  very  heart.  They  have  no 
power  to  alter  their  course,  or  to  pause  a  moment  in  their  career ;  avo 
can  say  what  the  great  sun  can  not  say — "  No" — to  the  Eternal.  They 
are  made  for  us,  not  we  for  them.  "They  shine  to  light  our  path,  and 
point  our  souls  to  God."  A  soid,  then,  broken  and  wounded  though  it 
be,  is  greater  than  these  stars. 

Still  another  thought  may  be  noticed,  namely,  that  there  is  higher 
evidence  to  believe  that  God  restores  souls,  than  that  he  takes  care  of 
stars.  The  highest  proof  is  consciousness.  I  infer,  from  my  under- 
standing, that  God  governs  the  heavenly  bodies ;  but  I  feel,  that  "  he 
healeth  the  broken  in  heart,  and  bindeth  up  their  wounds."  This 
thought  gives  to  its  objection  a  contemptible  insignificance. 

3.  Those  who  prof  ess  faith  in  God''s  active  relation  to  both,  but  who 
are  destitute  of  the  suitable  spiritual  feeling.  Antecedently,  we  should 
infer  that,  wherever  there  could  be  found  a  thinking  maral  nature  hke 
man's,  fully  believing  in  this  twofold  relation  of  God — his  connection 
with  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  Avith  all  pertaining  to  the  history  of 
itself — there  would  be  developed  in  that  nature,  as  the  necessary  conse- 
quence of  that  faith,  life,  humility,  and  devotion.  There  would  be  life; 
for  how  could  such  a  mind  really  believe  that  God  was  everywhere  in 
the  universe,  and  always  with  him,  and  be  dull  and  dormant  ?  There 
would  be  humility.  David,  when  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  the  nocturnal 
heavens,  and  saw  the  moon  walking  in  her  brightness,  and  the  stars 
circling  away  in  their  luminous  spheres,  was  overwhelmed  with  the 
sense  of  his  own  littleness,  and  exclaimed,  "What  is  man  that  thou  art 
mindful  of  him  ?"  A  proud  soul  has  710  faith.  There  would  also  be 
devotion.  "An  undevout  astronomer  is  mad  ;"  but  an  undevout  believer 
in  God's  connection  with  the  universe  and  man,  is  impossible. 

To  what  class,  my  friend,  in  relation  to  this  subject,  dost  thou  belong  ? 
Thou  wouldst  probably  revolt  at  the  idea  of  belonging  to  either  of  the 
former  two  ;  but  the  latter,  for  many  reasons,  is  worse  than  either  :  it  is 
to  play  the  hypocrite,  and  disgrace  religion.  Get,  then,  the  true  faith 
in  the  subject — the  foith  that  will  produce  this  true  quickening,  humbling, 
devotionalizing  effect — and  thou  shalt  catch  the  true  meaning  of  life — 
feel  the  world  to  be  a  temple  radiating  with  the  gloiy,  and  vocal  with  the 
j>raises  of  God ;  and  then  thou  shalt  step  on  the  true  line  of  human 
pi-ogress,  and  feel  the  proper  impulse  to  advance,  for  it  is  only  as  thou 
advancest  that  thou  canst  live  spiritually  or  be  happy. 


DISCOURSE    LVIII. 

THOMAS     AUBREY. 

Tms  eloquent  Wesleyan  Methodist  preacher  was  born  at  Pen  y  Cae,  twelve 
miles  from  Merthyr  Tydvil,  Glanmorganshire,  South  Wales,  about  the  year  1802, 
and  was  never  educated  in  any  college,  although  he  attended  the  national  school 
for  some  months.  His  parents  were  poor,  and  he  had  to  work  for  his  living  when 
very  young.  He  worked  at  the  rolling-mills  of  the  great  iron-works  at  Merthyr 
TydvO,  until  he  Avas  near  18  years  of  age,  when  he  was  converted  under  the  min- 
istry of  Rev.  John  Williams,  and  joining  the  society,  commenced  preaching,  and  was 
received  on  probation  to  the  regular  work  of  the  ministry — all  in  about  six  or  eight 
months. 

Says  one  who  labored  with  him  many  years  :*  "  When  I  first  knew  him,  he  was 
about  25  years  of  age,  about  5  feet  SI  inches  in  height,  very  slender;  large  bones, 
dark-brown  hair,  and  great  muscular  strength.  His  eyes  are  dark-brown,  very 
lively,  strong,  and  piercing ;  forehead  broad,  not  high,  yet  projecting  considerably ; 
and  very  high  cheek-bones.  His  voice  at  that  time  was  very  much  like  a  female's 
voice  at  the  commencement  of  his  discourse ;  but  getting  a  little  excited,  as  he  gen 
erally  did  in  about  twenty  minutes,  his  voice  would  change,  and  become  strong, 
clear,  and  very  melodious,  and  he  seemed  to  have  almost  a  perfect  command  over 
his  powers  of  articulation.  He  has  a  commanding  appearance,  is  now  stout,  and 
would  weigh  more  than  two  hundred  pounds." 

"  I  believe  his  first  appointment  by  conference  was  to  labor  in  the  city  of  London, 
where  he  remained  one  year.  Since  then,  he  has  traveled  in  the  most  important 
circuits  in  the  North  and  South  Wales  districts.  He  labored  six  years  in  Liverpool 
Most  of  his  time  was  spent  in  North  Wales.  He  is  now  in  his  third  year  in  the 
city  of  Bangor,  North  Wales.  Two  years  ago,  he  was  elected  chairman  of  the 
North  Wales  district,  which  is  a  very  important  position." 

Mr.  Aubrey  is  a  self-made  man :  not  the  most  learned,  but  probably  the  most 
eloquent  of  the  living  Welsh  clergy.  He  writes  but  Httle — always  preaching 
extempore,  and  with  uncommon  power.  He  is  a  good  Enghsh  scholar,  a  correct 
theologian,  and  a  man  of  a  gi-eat  soul.  Among  his  weaker  brethren,  he  is  said  to 
make  himself  their  equal ;  and  when  on  the  platform  among  the  English  classic 
scholars,  and  surrounded  by  the  celebrities,  he  would  be  looked  upon  as  their  equal 
also,  and  superior  to  many. 

The  following  elaborate  discourse  of  Mr.  Aubrey  is  one  of  the  few  he  has  pub- 
lished. No  labor  has  been  spared  in  its  translation  (now  for  the  first  time),  and  it 
will  be  read  with  interest  and  profit. 

*  The  Rev.  John  Ellis,  Now  York  city. 


800  THOMAS    AUBREY. 


CHRIST  AND  HIS  WORK  AWAKENING  PRAISE. 

"  And  from  Jesus  Christ,  who  is  the  flxithful  witness,  and  the  first-begotten  of  the  dead, 
and  the  prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth.  Unto  him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  oul 
Bins  in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and  his  Father ;  to 
him  be  glory  and  dominion  forever  and  ever.     Amen."— Rev.,  i  5,  6. 

As  needy  creatni-es  and  subjects  of  innumerable  mercies,  to  be  engaged 
in  prayer  and  praise  is  our  "  reasonable  service."  The«e  holy  exercises 
are  to  be  inseparably  connected  in  all  our  intercourse  with  the  Most 
High,  during  our  existence  in  the  present  state.  Whenever  vre  approach 
the  throne  of  grace,  to  supplicate  new  tokens  of  his  favor,  we  should  al- 
ways maintain  a  lively  consideration  and  a  feeling  sense  of  our  obligations 
to  him  for  blessings  already  received.  We  never  feel  less  inclination  to 
have  compassion  upon  a  miserable  and  necessitous  beggar,  than  when  the 
impression  is  deeply  made  upon  our  mind,  that  he  is  an  ungrateful  crea- 
ture. And,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  never  more  ready  to  extend  a 
helj)ing  hand,  than  when  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  individual 
who  solicits  our  aid  will  thankfully  acknowledge  the  smallest  gift.  It  is 
true  that  our  ways  are  not  always  God's  ways ;  nevertheless,  the  way  in 
which  he  has  been  pleased  to  encourage  our  expectation  of  new  mercies 
at  his  hands,  is  by  our  cultivating  feelings  of  gratitude  for  past  favors 
and  making  an  appropriate  use  of  them.  Just  hear  the  language  of  in- 
spiration :  "  Be  careful  for  nothing ;  but  in  every  thing  by  prayer  and 
supj)lication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests  be  made  known  unto 
God."  Phil.,  iv.  6.  We  find  the  Apostle  John,  in  the  text  and  the  con- 
text, oifering  his  sacrifice  of  prayer  and  praise.  Under  the  terms,  "  grace 
and  peace,"  he  earnestly  implores  that  the  seven  churches  of  Asia  Mmor 
should  be  filled  with  all  spiritual  blessings,  adequate  to  their  varied  wants. 
And,  at  the  end  of  this  address,  he  ascribes,  most  cordially  and  pathet- 
ically all  the  praise  and  glory  to  God,  for  all  his  benefits,  and  especially 
for  his  redeeming  mercies,  tracing  them  to  their  great  sources — even  the 
love  of  God  to  man. 

In  the  text  three  things  are  presented  to  our  notice : 

I.  A  striking  representation  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God  in  his  mediato- 
rial character. 

II.  A  lively  description  of  the  work  which  he  accomplishes  in  that 
capacity. 

III.  A  fervid  ascription  of  praise  to  him,  as  the  Author  and  Finisher 
of  the  work. 

But  let  us  notice  : 

I.  The  striking  representation  comprised  in  the  text,  of  the  mediatorial 
character  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God. 
The  apostle  exhibits  him  under  official  titles.     He  calls  him  "  Jesus," 


CHRIST    AND    HIS    POWER    AWAKENING    PRAISE.        801 

which  is  synonymous  with  the  name  Joshua — even  a  Saviour.  And  yet 
it  IS  in  vain  we  look  to  any  creature  for  the  full  extent  of  what  is  in- 
volved in  the  term,  inasmuch  as  he  alone  "  saves  his  people  from  their 
sins."  Joshua  of  old  was  certainly  famous  for  his  achievements  and  ex- 
ploits. He  led  the  Israehtish  forces  along,  from  victory  to  victory,  and 
thereby  wrought  te')nporal  salvation  for  the  nation ;  but  he  could  not 
apply  the  blessings  of  a  spiritual  salvation  to  any  of  them.  This  belongs 
exclusively  to  Christ.  The  most  extensive  acquirements,  how^ever  ex- 
cellent or  exalted  ;  and  the  fullest  measure  of  grace,  however  influ- 
ential and  effective,  could  not  adequately  adapt  a  creature  for  the  great 
undertaking  of  saving  souls  from  sin  and  its  awful  consequences.  Sin 
involves  in  its  nature  such  dire  malignity  as  to  baffle  all  human  and  an- 
gelic powers.  No  power  but  that  of  divinity  could  possibly  save  from 
sin.  Now,  as  the  divine  perfections  are  not  transferable  to  a  creature, 
so,  "  none  of  them  can  by  any  means  redeem  his  brother ;  nor  give  to 
God  a  ransom  for  him."  But  our  Jesus  is  "  mighty  to  save."  He  has 
revealed  the  way  of  salvation  in  his  doctrine  ;  he  has  purchased  the  bless- 
ings of  salvation  in  his  death ;  he  has  shed  his  blood  "  for  the  remission 
of  sins,"  bearing  them  "  in  his  body  on  the  tree ;"  so  that,  "  with  his  stripes 
we  are  healed."  He  also  administers  salvation,  being  "  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  them  that  come  unto  God  by  him."  All  power  in  heaven  and 
eajth  has  been  committed  unto  him,  for  the  express  purpose  of  comj)leting 
the  salvation  of  "  every  one  that  believeth." 

"  GhrisV-  is  the  next  title  under  which  the  apostle  addresses  our  Lord. 
This  term  signifies,  the  Anointed.  When  Jesus  is  designated  as  the 
Anointed,  long  after  the  ceremony  of  anointing  with  oil  had  ceased 
among  the  Jews,  it  must  be  understood  of  his  consecration  by  God  to 
the  highest  office,  of  which  the  ancient  custom  under  the  Mosaic  dispen- 
sation, was  only  a  feeble  type  or  shadow.  He  has  been  set  apart  by  a 
holy  anointing  to  the  performance  of  a  more  imjjortant  office  than  any 
ever  sustained  by  a  creature ;  and  indeed  no  created  being  would  have 
been  capable  of  the  responsibilities  embodied  therein.  He  is  the  only 
mediator  between  God  and  man ;  and,  independent  of  his  mediation,  no 
intercourse  whatever  could  have  existed  betwixt  God  and  human  sinners. 

Now,  observe  ;  John  was  not  satisfied  with  a  general  apprehension  of 
Christ's  mediation ;  hence  he  descends  to  particulars,  denoting  the 
different  offices  involved  in  his  mediatorial  character:  '■'■  the  faith fal  wit- 
ness, and  the  Jirst-hegotten  of  the  dead,  and  the  prince  of  the  kings  of 
the  earth. 

Here  let  us  remark,  that  these  titles  are  ascribed  to  Christ,  with  refer- 
ence to  his  triple  office  as  Mediator — Prophet,  Priest,  and  King. 

These  offices  were  completely  united  in  him.  They  were  separately 
bestowed,  among  many,  under  the  old  dispensation  :  David  was  a  king 
and  a  prophet ;  IMelchisedec  a  king  and  a  priest ;  and  Samuel  a  priest 
and  a  prophet.      The  three  distinct  offices  were  never  united  in  any 

51 


802  THOMAS    AUBREY. 

individual  whatever,  until  they  met  together  in  Christ.  It  is  highly 
gratifying  to  the  mind  to  trace  their  connection  as  represented  in  several 
sections  of  the  inspired  writings.  In  Isaiah  ix.  6,  7,  Jesus  is  denominated 
a  "  Counselor,"  a  Prophet ;  "  the  everlasting  Father,"  or  the  Father 
of  the  everlasting  age ;  as  "  the  Priest  of  our  profession  ;"  and  "  the  Prince 
of  Peace,"  on  whose  shoulders  the  government  is  laid,  as  our  King.  In 
Isaiah,  Ixi.  1,  we  find  that  he  was  anointed  "to  preach  glad  tidings 
lanto  the  meek,"  as  Prophet ;  "  to  bind  up  the  broken-hearted,"  by  re- 
moving their  guilt,  as  Priest,  and  "  to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captive,  and 
the  opening  of  the  prison  to  them  that  are  bound,"  as  King.  In  Isaiah 
Ixiii.  1,  he  is  pointed  out  in  his  triumphant  exploits,  as  a  mighty  Con- 
queror ;  but  in  the  declaration  which  he  announces  of  himself,  his  pro- 
l^hetical  and  priestly  offices  are  lucidly  exhibited:  "I  that  speak  in 
righteousness,  and  mighty  to  save."  In  John,  xiv.  6,  also,  he  designates 
himself,  saying,  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the  life."  He  is  the 
way  as  Priest,  the  truth  as  Prophet,  and  the  life  as  King. 

1.  In  the  text,  his  projyhetical  office  is  distinctly  pointed  out  in  the  ap- 
pellation, '■'■  the  faithful  Witness.''''  Some  eminent  critics  affirm  that  the 
original  word  here  for  wdtness  signifies  a  martyr.  This  rendering  of  the 
term  conveys  the  idea  of  a  testimony,  sealed  and  ratified  by  intense  suf- 
fering and  painful  death. 

A  "  witness"  is  one  who  reveals  that  which  had  been  previously  un- 
known, or  one  who  verifies  and  elucidates  more  fully  what  had  been 
already  stated.  Christ  has  been  given  "  for  a  Witness  to  the  people,"  in 
both  these  respects.  He  has  furnished  us  with  a  complete  revelation  of 
the  divine  will  and  mind,  concerning  the  great  things  of  salvation — the 
truths  to  be  credited,  the  blessings  to  be  received,  and  the  duties  to  be 
performed,  in  order  to  be  wise,  holy,  and  happy. 

The  character,  the  excellences,  the  purposes,  and  appointments  of  Je- 
hovah are  exhibited  in  his  doctrine  with  such  splendor,  glory,  and  afia- 
bility,  as  to  call  forth  the  exercise  of  gratitude,  reverence,  and  love 
toward  him.  "  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time  ;"  yet,  "  the  only- 
begotten  Son,  which  is  m  the  bosom  of  the  Father,  he  hath  revealed 
him." 

Again,  how  short  and  simple,  and  yet  comprehensive  and  liberal,  is 
the  way  of  man's  restoration  to  the  divine  favor,  delineated  in  the  fol- 
lo^vdng  passages :  "As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the  wilderness,  even' 
so  must  the  Son  of  man  be  lifted  up,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  "  For  God  so  loved  the 
world,  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in 
him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  "  For  God  sent  not  his 
Son  into  the  world  to  condemn  the  world ;  but  that  the  world  through 
him  might  be  saved."  In  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  the  divine  plan  and 
design  of  man's  salvation  are  most  clearly  developed.  Man  is  repre- 
sented as  entirely  fallen,  as  utterly  polluted,  and  completely  ruined ;  that 


CHRIST    AND     HIS    POWER    AWAKENING-    PRAISE.      803 

Lis  plea  of  claim,  on  the  ground  of  righteousness,  as  well  as  his  hope  of 
forgiveness,  have  been  cut  oft"  and  swept  away  forever,  not  only  by  the 
heinousness  and  enormity  of  his  transgressions,  but  also  by  the  very 
depravity  of  his  nature ;  that  repentance,  however  deep,  and  sacrifices, 
however  costly,  are  altogether  ineffective,  and  that  by  faith  in  the  death 
of  Christ  alone,  he  can  be  delivered  from  the  condemnation  of  death,  and 
be  endowed  with  the  regenerating  and  sanctifying  influences  of  the 
Sjnrit,  to  meeten  him  for  the  enjoyment  of  eternal  life  in  a  future  state; 
and  henceforth  pardon  and  everlasting  life  are  freely  and  fully  offered  to 
"  every  one  that  believeth." 

Moreover,  Christ,  as  a  witness,  "  hath  brought  life  and  immortality  to 
light."  It  is  true  that  human  reason,  independent  of  divine  revelation, 
is  capable  of  producing  arguments  of  some  strength,  in  favor  of  the  prob- 
ahility  of  the  existence  of  a  future  state;  hut  jyrohahility  is  no  certainty. 
And  if  you  appeal  to  reason  in  reference  to  the  circumstances  or  the  mode 
of  existence,  and  the  character  of  the  society  which  these  shall  be,  it  is 
entirely  silent.  All  the  propositions  of  Socrates,  Plato,  and  Cicero,  con- 
cerning it,  were  only  hypotheses  and  suppositions.  Cicero  says,  that 
having  solemnly  contemplated  its  claims,  and  closely  investigated  the 
philosophic  arguments  advanced  in  its  favor,  he  Avas  led  to  believe  the 
veracity  of  the  doctrine  ;  nevertheless,  whenever  he  turned  his  mind 
from  the  subject,  all  appeared  to  him  as  a  dream  or  vision.  Socratea 
designates  his  views  of  it  as  hope:  he  would  not  positively  affirm  its  ex- 
istence ;  and  it  is  quite  evident  from  his  writings,  that  he  and  P'ato 
rested  their  behef  in  it  on  the  traditions  of  their  ancestors. 

And  it  is  worthy  of  our  notice  that  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  was 
rery  darkly  revealed  in  the  Jewish  Scriptures.  It  seems  to  have  been 
reserved  to  distinguish  and  crown  the  message  of  him  who,  in  his  own 
person,  is  "  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life."  We  do  not  assert  this  to 
be  the  chief  end  of  his  appearance,  although  it  was  an  important  part  of 
the  glory  involved  in  that  design,  inasmuch  as  "  he  hath  abolished  death, 
and  brought  life  and  immortality  to  light  through  the  gospel."  It  is 
a  fundamental  doctrine  of  Christianity,  without  which  the  whole  fabric 
•vrould  inevitably  flxll.  When  Christ,  the  Lord  of  all,  came  to  our  world, 
the  manger  was  his  cradle,  and  the  stable  his  palace;  and  why  so? 
Because  his  "  kingdom  was  not  of  this  world  ;"  consequently  there  must 
be  another.  And  besides,  on  wliat  principle  are  Christians  exhorted  and 
Tirged  fearlessly  to  brave  the  bloody  cruelties  of  their  enemies — who 
dragged  them  bound  into  dark  prisons,  who  pitilessly  nailed  them  to  a 
cross,  who  unrelentingly  tore  them  to  pieces  on  racks  and  wheels,  and 
who  enq^loyed  ten  thousand  different  modes  of  accumulating  the  severity 
of  their  pains — rather  than  deny  their  religion  and  turn  their  backs  on 
Chi-ist  ?  Well,  it  is  on  the  ground  that  the  utmost  power  of  their  em- 
bittered foes  could  not  reach  further  than  the  body;  while  One  existed 
who,  after  the  body  should  be  dead,  was  able  to  destroy  the  soul  in  hell. 


804  THOMAS    AUBREY. 

The  doctrine  of  a  future  state  lias  been  clearly  and  pathetically  set 
forth  by  our  Redeemer,  in  the  history  of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus,  where 
we  are  taught  that  the  former,  subsequent  to  his  death,  lifted  up  his  eyea 
in  hell,  being  in  torments ;  while  it  is  said  of  the  latter,  that  he  was  car- 
I'ied  of  the  angels  to  Abraham's  bosom.  Chi'ist  has  thus  summoned 
spirits  both  from  heaven  and  hell  to  corroborate  the  truthfulness  of  this 
doctrine,  so  that  we  read  it  in  the  light  of  the  burning  flames  of  hell,  and 
in  the  shining  beams  of  heavenly  visions. 

Again  :  the  resurrection  of  the  body  from  the  corruption  of  the  grave, 
is  another  doctrine  which  has  been  fully  developed  by  the  teaching  of 
Christ.  "  Ye  do  err,"  says  our  Lord  to  the  Sadducees,  who  denied  the 
resurrection  of  the  body,  "  because  ye  know  not  the  Scriptures  and  the 
power  of  God."  Here  our  Sa^iour  draws  a  powerful  inference  in  favor 
of  the  resurrection.  If  it  is  within  the  limits  of  the  divine  power,  and 
if  he  has  revealed  in  the  Scriptures  his  decree  concerning  it,  the  accom- 
plishment of  it  is  certain  beyond  a  doubt.  First,  it  is  evident  that  God 
is  possessed  of  a  power  sufticient  to  raise  the  dead.  None  who  admit  his 
divinity  can  reasonably  reject  this  doctrine.  He  who  was  capable  of  call- 
ing the  world  into  existence  out  of  nothing,  must  unquestionably  be  able 
to  raise  the  dead.  He  who  has  given  life,  had  also  power  to  restore  it. 
Hence  the  performance  of  it  rests  upon  his  will :  it  is  therefore  highly 
important  that  we  should  solemnly  appeal  to  the  revelation  which  he  has 
made  of  his  Avill  and  determination  resjDccting  it. 

And  then,  too,  our  Saviour  rests  his  argument  upon  revelation.  As 
the  Almighty  God  has,  in  the  Scriptures,  promised  to  raise  the  dead,  and 
as  he  is  faithful  to  all  his  stipulations,  he  will  doubtless  accomplish  it. 
And  notwithstanding  the  gloom  which  enveloped  the  Old  Testament 
revelations  concerning  it,  our  Lord  derives  his  argument  from  tlie  M'rit- 
ings  of  Moses,  the  only  authority  acknowledged  by  the  Sadducees ; 
"  but  as  touching  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,"  says  he,  "  have  ye  not 
read  that  which  was  spoken  unto  you  by  God,  saying,  I  am  the  God  of 
Abraham,  and  the  God  of  Isaac,  and  the  God  of  Jacob  ?  God  is  not  the 
God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living."  Here  our  Lord  grounds  his  argu- 
ment upon  the  relation  which  God  sustained  to  the  patriarchs  as  their 
God.  Hence  it  appears  that  the  God  of  heaven  has  stipulated  in  his  word, 
as  tJieir  God,  ultimately  to  complete  their  happiness ;  which  can  not  be 
effected  without  first  perfecting  their  nature  by  the  resurrection  of  their 
bodies  from  the  dead. 

And,  besides,  "he  is  the  God  of  the  living ;''"'  one  part  of  their  con- 
stitution being  held  captive  under  the  grasp  of  death,  he  must,  in  order 
to  vindicate  his  character,  restore  it  from  the  territory  of  death,  and 
endue  it,  as  well  as  the  soul,  with  immortal  life.  Thus,  in  the  character 
of  Christ  as  a  prophet,  the  highest  wisdom  and  authority  are  blended  to« 
gather,  and  displayed  with  incomparable  splendor. 


CHRIST    AND     niS    WORK    AWAKENING    PRAISE.      805 

2.  The  Apostle  John  speaks  of  Christ  as  sustaining  the  priestly  office  ; 
whei-efore  lie  calls  him  the  '■'■Jirst-hegoUen  from  the  dead?''  This  definition 
necessarily  involves  his  death,  otherwise  it  would  not  be  said  that  he  was 
the  first-begotten  from  the  dead.  Elsewhere  he  is  called  "  the  first-born 
of  every  creature,"  i.  e.,  the  supreme  prince  of  created  intelligences — 
the  "  first-born  among  many  brethren,"  i.  e.,  the  head  and  Saviour  of 
the  church,  his  mystical  body. 

In  the  text  he  is  called  "the  first-begotten  from  the  dead."  This  title 
is  given  him,  not  because  he  was  the  first  who  restored  himself  to  life  by 
liis  own  power.  In  this  sense,  he  is  as  much  the  ^a.'J^begotten  from  the 
dead,  as  \\\q  first.  Nor  is  it  applied  to  him  because  he  was  \hQ  first  ever 
delivered  from  the  strong  grasp  of  death,  for  Ave  find  in  Scripture  history 
that  several  had  been  raised  from  the  dead  prior  to  tlie  death  and  resur- 
rection of  Christ,     But  the  title  is  applied  to  him,  first, 

Because  his  resurrection  from  the  dead  forms  a  clear  and  decisive 
evidence  of  the  supreme  excellency  of  his  character.  The  great  apostle 
of  the  Gentiles  says  that  "  he  was  declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with 
power,  according  to  the  Spirit  of  holiness  by  the  resurrection  from  the 
dead."  It  was  not  by  his  resurrection  that  he  was  made  the  Son  of  God ; 
but  it  was  by  that  auspicious  event  that  he  was  declared  to  be  the  Son 
of  God.  In  his  public  ministry,  he  insisted  upon  his  claim  to  the  title,  and 
in  his  resurrection,  his  claim  was  vindicated  and  substantiated. 

Ho  is  also  called  "  the  first-begotten  from  the  dead,"  on  account  of  the 
high  authority  which  he  obtained  over  "  hell  and  death."  When  he  ap- 
peared to  the  "  beloved  disciple,"  in  the  great,  but  amiable  character 
of  God-man,  he  announced  himself,  "  I  am  he  that  liveth,  and  was  dead ; 
and,  behold,  I  am  alive  forevermore,  Amen  ;  and  have  the  keys  of  hell 
and  of  death."  To  be  in  possession  of  the  keys  of  the  invisible  world, 
denotes  his  exalted  and  absolute  power — his  royal  charter.  He  entered 
the  territory  of  mortality,  that  he  might  not  only  depi-ive  death  of  its 
reigning  power,  but  also  that  he  might  "  destroy  him  who  had  the  power 
of  death,  even  the  devil,"  and  attain  supremacy  over  them  all.  He  burst 
asunder  the  iron  barrier  of  the  grave,  and  rose  triumphantly  as  the  Lord 
of  death,  as  well  as  the  administrator  of  life. 

And  he  is  called  "  the  first-begotten  from  the  dead,"  to  denote  the 
superior  excellency  of  that  life  which  he  enjoyed  jiosterior  to  his  resur- 
rection. This  life  comprises "jierfect  freedom  from  all  the  sinless  infiimi- 
ties  of  his  human  nature,  and  a  life  which  could  not  be  terminated  by  a 
stroke  of  death.  The  resurrection  of  others  was  somewhat  like  an  un- 
timely birth,  for  no  sooner  did  they  open  their  eyes  upon  the  immunities 
of  life,  than  they  began  to  close  them  in  the  dismal  gloom  and  melancholy 
of  death.  But  when  he,  Avho  is  "  the  first -begotten  from  the  dead"  arose, 
he  left  behind  him  all  the  sinless  infirmities  with  which  he  liad  been 
encompassed,  as  totally  as  his  shroud  and  napkin,  so  that  they  cling  to 
him  no  more  :  for,  says  the  apostle,  "  knowing  that  Christ  being  raised 


806  THOMAS    AUBREY. 

from  the  dead,  dieth  no  more,  death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  him, 
for  in  that  he  died,  he  died  unto  sin  once,  but  in  that  he  Hveth,  he  Uvetli 
unto  God."  Christ  being  the  first  who  arose  from  the  dead  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  Ufe  of  immortahty,  he  has  a  legal  right  to  the  title  "  first- 
begotten  from  the  dead." 

Moreover,  the  chief  design  of  the  appellation,  is,  to  denote  the 
priestly  character  of  Clu'ist.  Now,  mark,  the  first-born  of  every  family 
under  the  old  dispensation  had  a  right  to  officiate  in  the  sacred  office  of 
priest.  Under  tlie  Mosaic  economy  they  did  not  2)erso?ialli/  perform  the 
sacerdotal  functions,  nevertheless  they  were  solemnized  by  their  repre- 
sentatives— the  Levites,  whom  the  Lord  set  apart  to  minister  before  him 
in  the  room  of  the  first-born  of  the  other  tribes.  (Num.,  iii.  12.)  But 
prior  to  the  appointment  of  Aaron's  order  of  priesthood,  the  head  of 
each  family  officiated  as  the  domestic  priest,  and  the  chief  of  each  tribe 
as  the  tribal  priest.  The  priesthood,  as  well  as  the  dominion,  ^vs^s 
hereditary.  Now,  inasmuch  as  Christ  is  "  the  first-born  among 
many  brethren,"  and  "  the  first-begotten  from  the  dead,"  he  has  an 
indubitable  right  to  officiate  as  the  "  High  Priest  over  the  house  of 
God." 

3.  He  is  further  exhibited  in  the  text  in  his  Jcingly  capacity :  "  The 
Prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth." 

This  definition  of  his  character  imports,  first, 

The  supremacy  of  his  authority.  That  the  empire  of  the  creation 
pertains  to  Christ  as  a  divine  person,  can  not  be  denied.  He  made  all 
things,  and  he  sustains  all  things,  and  as  the  idea  of  governor  can  not  be 
separated  from  that  of  creator  and  preserver,  he  who  stands  in  such 
relation  to  the  creator,  must  be  in  possession  of  a  superior  and  undeniable 
right  to  govern  and  rule  the  whole ;  "  his  kingdom  ruleth  over  all." 
Now,  his  dominion  as  mediator  is  as  absolute  and  universal  as  that  of  hia 
divinity.  The  Father  "  set  him  at  his  right  hand  in  the  heavenly  places, 
far  above  all  principality,  and  power,  and  might,  and  dominion,  and  every 
name  that  is  named,  not  only  in  this  world,  but  also  in  that  which  is 
to  come  ;  and  hath  put  all  things  under  his  feet,  and  gave  him  to  be  head 
over  all  things  to  the  church."  All,  all  are  reduced  under  his  authority 
and  dominion  as  mediator.  "  Thrones"  lay  prostrate  before  him  and 
adore  him  ;  "  authorities"  humbly  submit  to  his  authority  and  cheerfully 
obey  his  orders  ;  "  principalities"  in  deep  humility  and  reverence  take  ofi^ 
their  crowns  in  his  presence,  and  lay  them  down  at  his  feet.  "All  the 
angels  of  God  worship  him."  All  the  glorious  and  blessed  inhabitanta 
of  heaven  are  subject  to  him. 

And  it  is  deservedly  wortliy  of  our  remark,  that  while  he  robed  hia 
glory  with  the  infirmities  of  humanity,  such  manifestations  of  his  majesty 
and  glory  shone  forth,  as  clearly  jjroved  his  j^ossession  of  a  supreme 
nature  and  an  universal  dominion.  He  is  horn,  and  the  heavenly  choir, 
with  triumphant  acclamations,  celebrate  the  praises  of  the  child  "  wrap- 


CHRIST    AND    HIS    WORK    AWAKEXIXG    PRAISE.      807 

pcd  in  swaddling  clothes."  He  is  circumcised,  and  lionorable  and  aged 
saints,  under  supernatural  influences,  own  him  as  their  vSaviour,  and  then 
desire  to  "  depart  in  peace."  He  is  baptized,  and  the  curtains  of  heaven 
are  withdrawn,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  descends  upon  him  in  the  form  of  a 
dove.  He  is  tempted  of  the  devil,  and  angels  minister  unto  him,  as  his 
lords  in  waiting.  He  is  an  hungered,  and  yet  feeds  thousands  at  his  will. 
He  sleejis,  and  awakes  to  still  the  tempestuous  storm,  and  silence  the 
boisterous  waves  of  the  infuriated  sea.  He  tceeps,  and  summons  the 
dead  to  Kfe  from  the  fast  grasp  of  putrefaction.  He  is  distressed,  and 
a  voice  thunders  from  heaven,  "  I  have  glorified  thee  again."  He  is 
taken  a  p)risoner,  and  twelve  legions  of  angels  revolve  in  the  air,  impa- 
tient to  rescue  him.  He  is  put  to  death,  and  he  throws  open  the  portals 
of  paradise.  He  is  laid  in  the  grave,  and  the  angel  of  the  Lord  is  de- 
spatched to  roll  back  the  stone,  in  order  to  clear  the  Avay  of  him  who 
could  not  be  holden  by  deatli,  and  Avhose  flesh  was  not  to  see  cor- 
ruption. Every  thing  was  forced  to  admit  his  majesty  and  acknowledge 
his  authority.  But  the  representation  which  the  Apostle  John  gives  in 
the  text  extends  no  further  than  his  supremacy  over  earthly  things, 
conditions  and  powers — "the  Prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earthy  O 
earth !  earth !  although  thou  art  said  to  be  one  of  the  least  of  the 
myriads  of  worlds  which  roll  and  traverse  the  infinity  of  space,  yet  thou 
Last  been  highly  exalted  above  them  all ;  thou  hast  been  greatly  honored 
beyond  them  all ;  for  it  was  in  thee  that  the  Lord  of  glory  appeared  m 
his  new  dress,  c»en  human  flesh  ! 

2.  We  notice  further,  the  supreme  excellency  of  his  perfections.  "  The 
Prince  of  the  kings  of  the  earth."  He  has  no  equal — no  compeer — no 
successor.  The  highest  majesty  and  the  lowest  humility;  the  infinitude 
of  God  and  the  tenderest  sympathy  of  man  are  blended  together  in  his- 
person,  and  yet  they  are  not  mixed  or  confounded ;  distinct,  and  yet 
united ;  conjoined,  and  yet  unmixed.  All  the  perfections  which  are 
essential  to  the  exalted  character  which  he  sustains,  and  indispensable 
for  the  due  administration  of  his  government,  meet  in  him.  His  might 
is  all-sufticient  to  counteract  every  evil  design,  to  overrule  every  degree 
of  excess  and  iri-egularity  of  the  creature,  to  maintain  and  strengthen 
his  authority,  and  to  render  all  his  appointments  efiectual  and  irresisti- 
ble. His  wisdom  is  complete,  nay,  infinite,  all  things  being  naked  and 
open  unto  his  all-seeing  eye.  Tlie  distinct  relation  of  every  circumstance, 
and  the  influence  of  every  measure,  are  perfectly  comprehended  within 
his  infinite  conception,  undisturbed  tranquillity  abides  in  his  bosom,  inas- 
much as  all  his  administrations  are  eflective.  How  easy  then  he  sustains 
liis  honor ;  how  completely  he  fills  his  title,  and  how  eftectually  he  accom- 
plishes his  work. 

And  let  us  also  observe,  that  the  titles  denote  the  suitability  of  the 
Mediator  to  meet  the  moral  necessities  of  our  fallen  and  depraved  na- 
ture.    The  misery  of  human  nature  comes  from  ignorance,  guilt,  and 


808  THOMAS    AUBRKY. 

]iol]ution.  The  darkness  of  man's  ignorance  is  such  as  nothing  bul 
divine  Avisdom  could  dis^Dcl;  his  guilt  is  so  great  that  no  sacrifice  ex 
cept  that  of  the  eternal  Son  of  God  could  cancel  it,  and  his  corruption 
is  so  deep  that  nothing  except  the  grace  of  God  could  overcome  it. 
How  fit  then  to  man  in  such  a  condition  must  the  Redeemer  be,  with 
"  the  key  of  knowledge,"  "  the  blood  of  sprinkling,"  and  "  the  scepter 
of  righteousness."  He  fills  the  mind  with  the  light  of  the  knowledge 
of  God's  glory,  as  a  prophet ;  the  conscience  with  "  peace  which  passeth 
all  understanding,"  as  a  Priest ;  and  furnishes  the  soul  with  a  title  to  "  all 
the  fullness  of  God,"  as  a  King. 

n.  We  proceed  to  consider  the  lively  description  in  the  text  of  the 
great  work  accomj^lished  by  Jesus  Christ  as  Mediator. 

The  language  presents  to  our  notice  two  things  in  reference  to  the 
work : 

1.  The  moving  principle  of  the  work — "unto  him  that  loved  us." 
"  God  is  love."  "  God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only-begotten 
Son."  This  great  principle  pervades  the  bosom  of  the  Son,  in  all  its  j)ur- 
ity,  and  perfection,  as  well  as  that  of  the  Father,  and  is  the  grand  source 
of  our  salvation,  whence  the  clear  and  refreshing  streams  of  mercy  and 
life  flow  toward  us.  Of  the  Redeemer  it  is  said,  "  Who  loved  us  and 
gave  himself  for  us."  In  Christ  love  has  become  incarnate.  In  him  we 
find  love,  living,  breathing,  s-peaking,  and  working  among  men.  "What 
was  his  birth,  but  the  incarnation  of  love  ?  Avhat  were  his  sermons,  but 
the  addresses  of  love?  what  were  his  miracles,  but  the  wonders  of  love? 
what  were  his  tears,  but  the  sympathies  of  love  ?  what  was  his  crucifix- 
ion, but  the  pangs  of  love  ?  what  was  his  resurrection,  but  the  triumph 
of  love  ?  and  what  is  his  intercession  in  heaven,  but  the  pleadings  of 
love? 

Here  let  us  briefly  remark  upon  the  attributes  of  this  love: 

It  is  self-moving,  and  consequently  it  must  be  infinitely  above  measure, 
and  beyond  all  -obligation — it  is  divine.  The  afiection  of  a  creature 
toward  a  fellow-creature  must,  of  necessity,  be  finite  and  be  regulated  by 
the  standard  of  self-love ;  nothing  being  involved  therein  which  is  of 
independent  and  self-controlling  character.  But  the  love  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  rises  incomprehensibly  higher  than  such  circumstances ; 
"for  he  loved  us,  and  gave  himself  for  us,  an  offering  and  a  sacrifice  to 
God  for  a  sweet-smelling  savor."  Now,  in  this  language  of  self-posses- 
sion and  self-control,  we  hear  him  say,  "  Therefore  doth  my  Father  love 
me,  because  I  lay  down  my  life,  that  I  might  take  it  again.  No  man 
laketh  it  from  me,  but  I  lay  it  down  of  myself  I  have  power  to  lay  it 
down,  and  I  have  power  to  take  it  again."  Thus  it  appears  evident  he 
was  not  forced  by  any  external  power  or  authority. 

The  love  of  Christ  is  unspeakahly  great.  It  is  infinitely  beyond  all  hu- 
man and  all  angelic  comprehension,  and  leaves  behind  it,  at  an  immeasur- 


CHRIST    AND    HIS    POWER    AWAKENING    PRAISE.      809 

able  distance,  all  created  conception.  Who  can  form  any  adequate  estimate 
of  the  greatness  of  his  love,  in  sacrificing,  as  it  were,  the  purity  and  hai>- 
piness  of  the  heavenly  state — divesting  himself  of  his  royal  robes,  in 
order  to  take  up  his  i-esidence  in  our  sinful  and  miserable  world  ?  What 
moved  him  to  make  such  a  sacrifice  ?  It  was  his  boundless  and  unfath- 
omable love.  Who  can  comprehend  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  suffer- 
ings which  he  endured  as  the  appointed  sacrifice  for  sin  ?  When  we 
contemplate  not  only  his  bodily  pains,  but  his  mental  agonies,  and  reflect 
upon  his  foreknowledge  of  all  the  circumstances  therewith  connected, 
his  love  appears  incomparably  great  in  cheerfully  undertaking  to  endure 
all  for  the  pui-pose  of  promoting  our  eternal  felicity. 

Let  us  also  briefly  notice  the  objects  of  Christ's  love.  Without  ad- 
verting to  the  diflerent  theories  which  have  been  brought  forward  in 
order  to  account  for  the  selection  of  our  little  Avorld  as  the  arena  of  the 
developments  of  such  stupendous  operations  of  divine  love,  it  is  enough 
for  us  to  beheve  in  the  great  fact,  to  contemplate  its  marvelous  con- 
tents, to  obtain  its  invaluable  blessings,  and  leave  aside  the  why  and 
wherefore,  until  the  magnificent  and  penetrating  light  of  eternity  cast 
its  reflections  upon  the  wise  appointments  and  deep  mysteries  of  heaven. 
But  still,  some  self-exalted  magi  have  boldly  dared  to  deny  the  fact, 
asserting  that  our  globe  is  so  small,  compared  with  the  universe,  and 
that  man  is  so  insignificant,  contrasted  with  the  globe,  as  to  render  the 
notion  of  divine  love  preposterous  and  absurd.  But  let  them  account 
my  nature  as  insignificant  as  they  may,  the  eternal  Son  of  God  has 
clothed  himself  loith  it.  Let  them  reduce  the  world,  by  their  delighted 
calculations,  to  a  mere  speck  in  the  universe  ;  I  am  certain  that  God 
tabernacled  therein,  traveled  upon  its  dust,  breathed  its  air,  died  upon 
one  of  its  hills,  and,  after  his  ascension  into  heaven,  sent  "  another  Com- 
forter," the  Paraclete^  or  the  great  Advocate,  who  "  reproves  the 
world  of  sin,  of  righteousness,  and  of  judgment,"  and  "  takes  of  the 
things  of  Christ,  and  reveals  them  to  men,"  until  they  are  finally  brought 
to  the  complete  enjoyment  of  his  salvation,  in  eternal  glory  and  bhss. 
"  He  hath  loved  usy 

Secondly,  the  saving  character  of  the  work.,  "  And  hath  Avashed  us 
from  our  sins  in  his  own  blood,  and  hath  made  us  kings,"  etc.  Here 
we  have  to  notice  the  great  evil  from  which  Christ  saves  believers,  and 
the  high  honor  to  which  he  promotes  them. 

Let  us  offer  a  few  remarks  upon  the  dire  evil  from  Avhich  he  saves 
believers. 

Observe,  then,  the  redemption  and  deliverance  itself ;  washing  us 
from  our  sins.  If  we  should  esteem  sin  in  the  same  light  as  the  holy 
God  views  it,  we  should  discover  that  it  deserves  all  the  threatenings 
which  the  great  God  denounces  against  it ;  and,  in  the  review  of  our- 
selves, we  should  feel  some  earnest  as  a  premonition  of  eternal  woe. 
The  man  who  has  not  been  aroused  to  a  proper  sense  of  his  ruined  state 


810  THOMAS    AUBREY. 

wondei's  tliat  sin  is  threatened  with  everlasting  punishment,  while  tne 
man  who  has  been  truly  awakened  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  is  overwhelmed 
with  admiration  at  the  possibility  of  forgiving  a  thing  so  heinous  and 
filthy.  But,  blessed  be  God,  "  a  fountain  hath  been  opened  for  sin  and 
for  uncleanness  ;"  "  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  his  Son  cleanseth  us  from 
all  sin  ;"  and  all  who  have  believed  in  Christ  sweetly  testify  m  the  lan- 
guage of  the  text,  "  He  hath  loved  us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins." 

This  washing  or  pui'ifieation  is  effected  first,  by  the  justification  of 
their  persons.  This  act  consists  in  absolving  them  from  their  obligation 
to  suffer  the  punishment  due  to  their  sins,  and  in  elevating  them  to  the 
rights  of  the  innocent,  so  that  they  stand  in  God's  estimation,  as  regards 
his  administration,  as  if  they  had  never  transgressed. 

Secondly,  this  cleansing  is  eflected  by  the  sanctification  of  their 
nature.  This  great  work  consists  in  the  overthrow  of  the  dominion  of 
sin  in  the  heart ;  the  eradication  of  all  the  roots  of  corruption  therein, 
and  the  shedding  abroad  of  the  love  of  God,  as  the  productive  princi- 
ple of  gracious  temj)ers  and  feelings  in  the  soul  inwardly,  and  holy 
fruits  in  the  life  outwardly.  Such  cleansing  is  indispensable  to  our 
eternal  felicity  in  a  future  state. 

And  let  us  briefly  notice  the  means  employed  in  eifecting  this  salvation, 
"his  own  blood."  The  inspired  writers  of  the  New  Testament  mvaria- 
bly  du'ect  us  to  the  blood  of  Christ,  as  the  basis  and  medium  of  the  be- 
Btowment  of  all  spiritual  blessings.  Scarcely  would  the  apostles  even 
mention  any  saving  benefit,  without  referring  to  the  blood  of  Christ  as 
the  medium  of  its  communication.  If  a  sinner  be  justified  before  God  ; 
if  his  polluted  conscience  be  purged;  if  he  be  redeemed  from  his  vain 
conversation  ;  if  the  soul  be  raised  to  a  high  state  of  perfection,  it  is 
through  the  blood  of  Christ  that  he  obtains  these  invaluable  benefits. 
If  we  obtain  victory  over  the  powers  of  hell ;  if  our  garments  be  white 
in  heaven  ;  and  if  we  be  privileged  to  join  the  redeemed  throng  on  the 
hills  of  the  heavenly  Canaan,  the  burden  of  our  anthem,  in  celestial 
rapture,  will  be,  "  Unto  him  that  hath  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our 
sins,  be  glory  and  dominion  forever."  The  meaning  evidently  is,  that  all 
the  merits  of  our  salvation  concentrate  in  the  blood  or  the  atoning  sa- 
crifice of  Christ. 

2.  Let  us  notice  the  high  honor  to  which  they  are  promoted:  "and 
hath  made  us  kings  and  jiriests  unto  God  and  his  Father." 

They  are  made  kings.  To  possess  a  kingdom  is  the  highest  grandeur 
known  among  men.  Kings  occupy  a  higher  position  than  their  friends ; 
they  are  generally  esteemed  Avorthy  of  high  respect,  and  universal 
obedience  ;  but  how  insignificant  is  this  earthly  glory,  when  contrasted 
with  the  honor  conferred  on  believers.  Genuine  Christians  may,  with 
propriety,  be  called  kings  on  account  of  their  exalted  character.  Their 
Bouls  are  delivered  from  the  dominion  of  sin  by  the  elevated  principles 
of  holiness;    they  sway  the  scepter  of  righteousness  over  their  own 


CHRIST    AND    HIS    WCRK    AWAKENING    PRAISE.      811 

lusts ;  they  oppose  all  the  hostile  attacks  of  Satan  and  the  Avorlcl ;  they 
act  worthy  of  the  royalty  of  theii-  nature  and  the  nobility  of  then* 
bu-th. 

Think  again  of  the  immensity  of  their  possessions.  All  things  are 
tlieirs — the  earth  and  its  fullness  are  at  their  service ;  life,  with  all  its 
advantages,  is  theirs — "  things  present  and  things  to  come."  Christ  and 
God,  with  all  their  excellences,  are  theirs.  In  virtue  of  their  union  with 
Christ,  they  are  made  one  with  him — "  the  Lord  of  glory."  They  are 
of  noble  birth,  being  "  born  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor 
of  the  will  of  man  ;  but  of  God."  The  world  does  not  discern  the 
height  of  their  glory  noio  ;  nevertheless  the  period  is  approaching  when 
their  exalted  state  will  be  exhibited  and  recognized  in  the  presence  of 
the  whole  universe  of  intelligences. 

They  are  promoted  to  the  sacred  office  of  priests.  They  are  a 
holy  priesthood  ;  separated  from  the  world,  and  consecrated  to  the 
service  and  glory  of  God.  They  have  an  unction  from  the  Holy  One, 
and  under  its  influence  they  live  and  act  for  God.  Like  the  priests  of 
old,  they  are  admitted  into  the  immediate  presence  of  God,  and  main- 
tain a  near  communion  with  him.  They  are  not  satisfied  with  a  mere 
approach  to  the  altar  of  God — the  symbol  and  medium  of  the  manifest- 
ation of  the  divine  presence  : — but  they  "  come  unto  God  their  exceed- 
ing joy."  They  have  "  boldness  to  enter  into  the  Holiest  by  the  blood 
of  Jesus ;  by  a  new  and  living  way,  which  he  hath  consecrated  for  us 
through  the  vail ;  that  is  to  say,  his  flesh."  They  minister  in  holy 
things,  and  ofler  "spiritual  sacrifices,  acceptable  to  God  by  Jesus 
Christ." 

Like  the  priests  of  old,  they  are  maintained  by  that  which  made  atone- 
ment. Their  fullness  is  in  Christ;  he  is  their  altar,  and  "his  flesh  is 
meat,  indeed,  and  his  blood  is  drink,  indeed." 

Not  only  are  they  kings  and  priests,  but  they  sustain  these  high  and 
sacred  offices  in  relation  "  to  God  and  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ."  They  are  kings  in  the  empire  whose  supreme  governor  is  Jeho- 
vah ;  they  are  priests  in  that  temple,  where  he  only  is  acknowledged  as 
the  supreme  object  of  praise  and  adoration. 

HI.  Let  us  now  proceed  to  consider  the  third  division  of  tlie  text :  The 
fervid  ascription  of  praise  to  Christ  as  the  author  and  finisher  of  our  salva- 
tion, "  Unto  him — be  the  glory  and  dominion  forever  and  ever,  Amen." 

The  term  "  glory,"  in  its  first  and  principal  meaning,  signifies  that 
which  constitutes  the  grandeur,  splendor,  and  excellence  of  any  object. 
In  this  sense  it  is  here  ascribed  to  Christ ;  because  every  thing  that  is 
excellent,  amiable,  and  exalted,  in  the  greatest  fullness,  and  the  highest 
perfection,  is  to  be  obtained  in  and  through  him;  wherefore  he  ought  to 
be  magnified  and  praised. 

The  term  "  dominion"  imports  supremacy  and  power.    We  are  assured 


812  THOMAS    AUBREY. 

by  the  propTiet  Isaiah,  that,  "  of  the  increase  of  his  government  and 
peace,  there  shall  be  no  end." 

The  praise  ascribed  to  the  Saviour  in  the  text,  includes, 

1.  The  great  admiration  and  love  which  overwhelm  the  minds  of  be- 
lievers, in  contemi^lating  the  majesty  and  glory  of  redeeming  love. 
These  feelmgs  of  wonder  and  aflection  are  not  the  emotions  of  a  dark 
and  ignorant  mind ;  but  the  result  of  sound  knowledge  of,  and  indisput- 
able interest  in,  its  benefits.  Every  thing  connected  with  the  subject 
under  consideration,  is  eminently  suited  to  awaken  such  feelings  of  ador- 
ation. The  love  of  Christ  surpasseth  knowledge ;  the  plan  of  salvation 
is  a  system  replete  with  stupendous  wonders — love  without  end,  and 
grace  beyond  degree 

When  believers  contemplate  the  depth,  height,  length,  and  breadth  ot 
Christ's  love,  they  can  not  help  exclaimmg  in  adoring  and  admiring- 
praises,  "  to  him  be  the  glory,"  etc.  That  love  must  be  exceedingly 
deep  which  brought  down  the  Son  of  God  from  the  throne  of  glory  into 
the  manger  at  Bethlehem — from  the  bosom  of  the  Father  to  his  pros- 
trating agony  in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane — from  a  state  of  domiqion 
in  glory  to  the  sleep  of  death  in  Joseph's  new  tomb.  The  love  of  Christ 
must  be  incomprehensibly  deep  and  high  when  it  "raiseth  the  poor  out 
of  the  dust,  and  Ufteth  the  needy  out  of  the  dunghill,  and  setteth  them 
with  princes,  even  the  princes  of  his  people."  Its  depth  and  height  are 
immeasurable.  It  is  so  deep  as  to  reach  lower  than  the  depth  of  the 
misery  to  which  divine  wrath  has  threatened  to  plunge  the  sinner ; 
and  so  high  as  to  raise  him  to  a  state  of  the  most  elevated  and  exquisite 
honor  and  happiness,  of  which  a  creature  is  capable.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  believers  break  forth  in  admiring  acclamations,  saying,  "  To  him  be 
the  glory  and  dominion  forever  and  ever,  Amen." 

2.  The  praise  ascribed  to  Christ  in  the  text,  includes  a  powerful  and 
an  absorbing  desire  that  his  love  and  its  blessed  influences  should  be 
known  and  felt  throughout  the  world.  "  Unto  him  that  hath  loved  us" 
to  him  be  ascribed  the  highest  glory,  dominion,  and  adoration — and  to 
him  be  presented  the  lowest  submission  by  every  human  heart  through- 
out the  world,  and  that  forever  and  ever,  Amen. 

It  is  the  incumbent  duty  of  all  those  Avho  have  believed  in  the  Saviour 
— those  who  have  realized  the  tokens  of  his  love — those  who  have  been 
washed  in  his  blood — ^those  who  have  been  made  kings  and  priests 
through  his  merits,  to  manifest  ^heir  exalted  privileges  and  their  exquis- 
ite happiness,  and  to  declare  the  inestimable  value  of  an  interest  in  Christ, 
not  only  in  word  but  in  action,  by  a  holy  and  devoted  life. 

A^'ain,  all  those  who  sincerely  love  the  Saviour,  fervently  desire  that 
others  should  feel  the  same  emotions  of  love.  Such  heavenly  principle 
can  not  be  concealed  in  the  heart.  In  whatever  heart  the  living  spark 
exists,  it  is  sure  to  show  itself  on  the  lips  and  in  the  life  of  its  possessor. 
And  I  am  happy  to  tell  you,  that  this  holy  and  heaven-born  principle  wU] 


CHRIST    AND    HIS    WORK    AWAKEXIXG    PRAISE.      813 

ultimately  fill  every  heart,  every  family,  every  country,  nay,  the  M'hole 
world,  and  under  its  sweet  influences  men  will  invariably  love  one 
another,  and  the  earth  will  appear  as  one  of  the  heavenly  mansions.  Foi 
this  every  true  Christian  earnestly  prays,  in  the  language  of  the  sweet 
singer  of  Israel,  "  Let  the  whole  earth  be  filled  with  his  glory,"  Amen 
and  Amen. 

3.  The  praise  ascribed  to  the  Saviour  in  the  text,  forms  a  specimen  of 
the  adoration  presented  to  him  by  the  church  on  earth  ;  but  which  will 
be  more  perfectly  oftered  by  the  redeemed  throng  in  heaven,  '•'•  Ido 
ef  y  hydo  y  gogoniant^''  or  "  to  him  be  the  glory."  Let  us  magnify 
Christ  our  Saviour ;  let  us  pay  our  tribute  of  regard  and  gratitude  at  the 
foot  of  his  glorious  throne,  and  in  offering  up  our  thanksgiving,  let  us 
humbly  acknowledge  his  infinite  Majesty.  "To  him  be — the  dominion." 
Let  us  kneel  in  the  dust  before  his  original,  exalted,  and  unlimited  au- 
thority, by  which  all  things  in  the  natural  and  moral  world,  in  time  and 
eternity,  are  ruled  and  governed.  Let  us  dread  the  Almighty  arm  which 
sustains  this  high  authority.  To  his  power  we  owe  all  our  spiritual  tri- 
umphs, and  to  his  dominion  all  our  heavenly  possessions  are  due.  Let 
us  give  him  the  glory  of  all  that  we  are,  and  all  we  possess,  "  To  him — 
forever  and  ever,"  when  all  the  eras  of  time  will  be  entirely  swallowed 
up  into  the  immense  circle  of  eternity.  When  the  soul,  which  in  its 
present  garment  of  flesh,  is  alarmed  at  the  vicissitudes  of  an  unstable 
earth,  shall,  after  Avitnessing  the  general  conflagration  of  the  material 
world,  stand  in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  Divine  glory,  with  ineffa- 
ble joy  for  countless  ages,  then^  amid  all  the  unutterable  felicity, 
and  the  inconceivable  and  unending  purity  and  glory,  Calvary  and  the 
Cross  shall  never,  never  be  forgotten — the  source  of  all  celestial  bliss 
and  glory.  No !  no !  The  song  of  praise  will,  forever  and  ever,  con- 
tinue the  same : 

"  'Mid  the  chorus  of  tho  skies, 
'Mid  the  angelic  lyres  above, 
Hark  I  their  songs  melodious  rise, 
Songs  of  praise  to  Jesus'  love." 

Let  us  heartily  consecrate  ourselves  to  the  service  of  the  Redeemer,  and 
he  will  promote  us  to  all  the  honor  and  felicity  of  heaven.  May  this  be 
our  happy  lot ;  and  let  the  reader,  as  well  as  the  writer,  say,  Amen,  and 
Amen. 


SUPPLEMENT. 

1874. 


DISCOUESE  LIX. 

JAMES    McCOSH,    LL.D.,    D.D. 

This  distinguished  scholar  and  divine  was  born  in  Ayrshire,  in  1811,  wag  edu- 
cated at  the  Universities  of  Ghisgow  and  Edinburgh,  became  a  minister  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland,  in  Arbroath,  in  1835,  removed  to  Brechin  in  1839,  where  he 
joined  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland  in  1843,  and  was  appointed  Professor  of 
Logic  and  Metaphysics  in  Queen's  College,  Belfast,  in  1851.  In  18G8  he  came  to 
America,  and  was  chosen  President  of  the  College  of  New  Jersey,  at  Princeton, 
New  Jersey.  He  has  written  "  The  Method  of  the  Divine  Government,  Phys- 
ical and  Moral,"  and  in  conjunction  with  Dr.  Dickie,  "  Typical  Forms  and  Special 
Ends  in  Creation,"  published  in  1856 ;  "  The  Intuitions  of  the  Mind  inductively 
investigated,"  1860  ;  "  The  Supernatural  in  relation  to  the  Natural,"  1862  ;  "  Ex- 
amination of  Mill's  Philosophy,  being  a  Defence  of  Fundamental  Truth,"  1866  ; 
"  Inaugural  Address  at  Princeton,"  18G8 ;  "  Logic,"  1869  ;  "  Christianity  and  Posi- 
tivism :  a  series  of  Lectures  to  the  Times  on  Natural  Theology  and  Apologet- 
ics," 1871  ;  and  has  contributed  articles  to  the  North  British  licmew,  the  Dublin, 
University  Magazine,  the  British  and  Foreign  Evangelical  Bevietc,  and  the 
Princeton  Bevicic.  He  is  justly  considered  one  of  the  soundest  thinkers  of  the 
age,  and  as  a  teacher  and  theologian  is  exerting,  and  will  permanently  exert,  an 
influence  for  the  truth  wielded  by  few. 


UNITY    WITH    DIVERSITY. 

"  Now  there  are  diversities  of  gifts,  but  the  same  Spirit.  And  there  are  differ- 
ences of  administrations,  but  the  same  Lord.  And  there  are  diversities  of  opera- 
tions, but  it  is  the  same  God  which  worketh  all  in  all." — 1  CoR.  xii.  4-6. 

"  And  they  sing  the  song  of  Moses  the  servant  of  God,  and  the  song  of  the 
Lamb." — Rev.  xv.  3. 

"  IIk.vr,  O  Isvael,  the  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord."  But  while 
Jehovah  is,  and  must  be,  one,  there  are  indications  from  the  beginning 
of  there  being  distinctions  in  the  divine  nature:  in  the  Old  Testament 
he  is  called  Elohim,  plural  noun  joined  to  singular  verb  ;  and  in  the 
New  Testament  he  is  spoken  of  as  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost, — so 
that  God  never  dwelt  in  loneliness,  but  ever  in  the  atmosphere,  ever  iu 
52 


818  JAMES    McCOSH. 

the  warmth  of  love,  and  was  thus  ever  in  a  position  to  exercise  his 
liighest  perfection.  Again,  the  moral  law,  the  noblest  emboeliment 
and  expression  of  the  divine  nature,  is  also  one,  summed  up  like  the 
divine  character  in  love;  but  having  a  diversity  of  applications,  to  the 
agent  himself,  to  the  creatures  and  the  Creator,  that  one  law  requir- 
ing us  to  live  soberly,  righteously  and  godly.  The  profoundest  in- 
vestigations of  philosophers  and  artists  have  shown  that  beauty,  so  far 
as  its  delicate  form  can  be  caught  by  the  subtlety  of  the  human  in- 
tellect, embraces  unity  with  variety :  as  it  has  been  expressed,  the 
unity  where  it  is  found  being  beautiful  in  proportion  to  the  variety, 
and  the  variety  where  it  exists  in  proportion  to  the  unity.  I  hope  to 
show  in  this  discourse  that  in  the  Works  of  God  and  in  the  Word  of 
God  viewed  separately,  and  in  the  Works  and  Word  of  God  in  com- 
bination, there  is  sameness  with  difference,  after  the  model  of  the 
divine  nature,  and  in  correspondence  with  the  good  and  the  lovely. 
In  other  words,  in  the  true,  as  well  as  in  the  good  and  beautiful,  as 
in  God  himself,  there  is  oneness  with  diversity,  constituting  a  univer- 
sal harmony. 

I.  There  is  Unity  with  Variety  in  the  Works  of  Got>. 

We  see  this  in  the  Matter  of  the  Universe.  That  Matter  is  one  and 
the  same  in  all  time  and  in  all  space.  As  far  back  as  history  goes,  as 
geology  goes,  we  discover  the  same  natural  agents  in  the  world  as  we 
do  now,  in  fire  and  water,  in  sea  and  land,  in  rivers  and  mountains. 
Chemistry  tells  us  that  provisionally  the  elementary  substances  are  a 
little  above  sixty,  and  now  we  know  that  they  are  found  in  the  heav- 
enly bodies.  Of  late  years  the  spectroscope,  which  promises  to  reveal 
more  wonders  than  the  telescope  or  microscope  has  done,  shows  that 
the  same  bodies  Avith  which  we  are  familiar  on  earth,  are  found  in  the 
sun  and  those  distant  stars:  the  rays  of  light  are  so  affected  as  to 
show  that  they  have  come  through  sodium,  or  hydrogen,  or  some 
other  substance  found  on  our  globe.  But  in  what  a  diversity  of 
modes  do  the  bodies  appear:  in  earth,  water,  air  and  fire — as  the 
ancient  Greeks  classified  them ;  in  solid,  in  fluid,  in  vapory,  in  elastic 
forms ;  in  floating  ether,  in  buoyant  air,  in  yielding  liquid,  in  compact 
stones  and  metal ;  in  gems,  crystals  and  stars ;  in  planets,  satellites 
and  suns;  in  the  trunks,  branches,  foliage,  flowers  and  fruits  of  plants: 
in  the  bones,  the  muscles,  the  blood,  the  nerves,  the  brain,  the  senses 
of  animals;  and  in  that  goodly  house  in  which  we  dwell,  and  which  is 
so  "  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made." 

We  see  it  in  the  Forces  of  the  Universe.  It  is  the  grand  discovery 
of  the  science  of  our  day,  that  the  sum  of  Force,  actual  and  poten- 
tial, in  the  universe  is  always  one  and  the  same.  The  will  of  man 
cannot  add  to  it ;  no  human  effort  can  diminish  it.  If  you  consume 
it  in  one  form  it  appears  in  another.    A  large  portion  of  it  coming  from 


UNITY    WITH    DIVERSITY.  819 

the  sun,  is  taken  up  by  the  plant,  which  is  eaten  by  the  animal,  and 
becomes  in  us  the  power  which  Ave  feel  in  our  frame  as  we  breathe, 
and  walk,  and  run,  and  labor.  We  may  use  it  to  serve  our  purposes 
of  good  or  also  of  evil ;  but  we  can  use  it  only  by  means  of  itself, 
we  can  evoke  it  in  one  form  only  by  means  of  the  same  force  in 
another  form.  And  after  we  have  used  it,  it  continues  the  same  in 
amount  as  it  was  before.  After  running  it  may  be  the  round  of  the 
universe,  the  force  may  come  back  to  the  spot  and  take  the  form  in 
which  we  first  noticed  it.  Just  as  the  vapors  which  the  sun's  heat  ex- 
hales from  the  sea,  rise  into  the  atmosphere  and  descend  in  rain  on  the 
earth,  to  form  rills  and  rivers  w^hich  flow  back  into  the  ocean ;  so 
the  forces  which  operate  in  the  earth,  in  air  and  sea,  in  plant  and 
animal,  after  running  their  circuits,  ever  fall  back  into  that  great  ocean 
of  power,  which  is  just  one  manifestation  of  divine  power.  But  in 
what  a  diversity  of  modes  does  this  force  appear  :  in  matter  attract- 
ing matter,  and  holding  atoms  and  w^orlds  together  ;  in  elements 
combining  according  to  their  friendships  and  strifes — as  Empedocles 
of  old  expressed  it,  according  to  their  affinities  as  chemists  now  say; 
driving  our  steam  engines,  heating  our  homes,  quivering  in  the  mag- 
netic needle,  riding  in  the  storms  of  earth  and  in  the  storms  in  the 
sun's  atmosphere,  blowing  in  the  breeze,  smiling  in  the  sunshine, 
striking  in  the  lightning,  and  living  in  every  organ  of  the  body.  Like 
the  ocean  ever  changing  and  yet  never  changing;  ever  the  same  and 
yet  never  at  rest ;  moving  in  every  molecule,  every  planet  and  every 
star ;  imparting  unceasing  activity  and  yet  securing  an  undisturbed 
stability. 

We  see  it  in  the  orderly  Arrangement  of  the  Matter  and  Forces  of 
the  Universe.  For  the  material  of  the  Avorld  might  have  been  what 
it  is,  and  the  forces  of  the  world  might  have  been  what  they  are,  and 
the  result,  not  order  but  confusion,  spreading  misery  and  dismay 
instead  of  happiness  and  comfort.  It  is  clear  that  he  who  created  the 
elements  and  their  pi'operties,  has  imparted  to  them  such  a  disposition 
and  distribution,  that  they  fall  into  order  each  in  its  appropriate  place, 
like  the  stones  in  a  building,  like  soldiers  arranged  into  companies 
every  one  with  a  duty  to  discharge.  The  world  is  built  up,  as  Avas 
fabled  of  the  walls  of  ancient  Thebes,  by  some  sort  of  music  or  harmon- 
izing power. 

The  issue  is  first  beneficent  laws  such  as  the  revolution  of  the 
seasons,  of  the  times  of  budding  and  bearing  seed  by  plants,  and  of 
the  birth,  youth  and  maturity  of  animals.  Such  laws  as  distinguished 
from  the  forces  of  the  universe,  are  not  simple,  as  many  suppose,  but. 
highly  complex ;  the  result  of  construction,  quite  as  much  as  a  house 
is  or  a  watch  is.  What  a  number  of  agencies,'  for  example,  are  in- 
volved in  th('  pL-riodical  return  of  spring:  there  arc  the  movements  an<l 


320  JAMES    McCOSH. 

the  relative  position  of  the  earth  and  sun;  there  are  the  laws  of  light 
and  heat,  and  the  constitiition  of  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms. 
The  co-operation  of  these  does  not  proceed  from  the  mere  rude  matter 
of  the  world,  nor  from  its  blind  forces,  but  from  an  arrangement  made 
to  accomplish  an  evidently  intended  end,  the  prevalence  of  order  in 
the  form  of  a  law,  which  is  to  be  regarded  as  an  expression  of  the 
vill  of  God,  and  enabling  the  intelligent  creatures  to  gather  knowl- 
edge. Without  such  a  system  of  general  laws,  man  as  at  present  con- 
stituted could  not  gather  wisdom  from  experience,  could  not  foresee 
coming  events,  could  not  avoid  the  threatened  evil,  or  lay  hold  of  the 
promised  good.  It  is  by  there  being  a  uniformity  established 
whereby  the  future  so  far  resembles  the  past,  that  we  are  enabled  to 
anticipate  what  is  before  us  and  lay  our  plans  accordingly. 

But  along  with  the  system  of  general  laws,  there  is  an  adaptation 
of  law  to  law,  and  of  every  one  thing  to  every  other,  so  as  to  bring 
about  individual  events.  Thus  by  a  series  of  very  complex  arrange- 
ments among  the  matters  and  forces  of  the  universe,  we  have  a  series 
of  joints  in  the  animal  frame,  and  the  joints  differing  according  to 
their  positions:  a  ball-and-socket  joint  for  instance,  turning  all 
round  at  the  shoulders,  where  it  is  a  convenience,  but  not  in  the  fin- 
gers, where  it  Avould  be  a  weakness  and  an  incumbrance.  By  these 
arrangements  God  can  accomplish  not  only  his  general  designs  but 
his  specific  purposes.  This  it  is  which  constitutes  Providence:  that 
■n-pdpoiav  which  Socrates  defended  against  an  ignorant  mob,  that  could 
not  discover  the  one  God  amid  the  multiplicity  of  his  purposes,  and 
against  the  self  conceited  sophists,  who  were  not  able  to  distinguish 
between  truth  and  error.  This  providence  is  a  general  one  reaching 
over  the  whole  ;  but  it  does  so  because  it  is  a  particular  providence 
providing  for  every  being,  and  for  all  wants.  So  delicately  consti- 
tuted is  this  whole  system,  that  it  moves  sympathetically  with  our 
position,  our  needs,  our  feelings.  It  is  so  ordered  that  "  the  very  hairs 
of  our  head  are  all  numbered,"  and  "  a  sparrow  cannot  fall  to  the 
ground  without  him."  At  the  close  of  life,  or  as  he  contemplates  the 
scene  from  heaven,  the  good  man  will  see  that  he  has  been  led  by  a 
way  far  better  than  he  could  have  chosen,  and  that  throughout  his 
steps  "  have  been  ordered  by  the  Lord." 

They  tell  us  that  all  this  order  with  adaptation  proceeds  from  the 
physical  agents  of  the  world.  All  true,  but  the  wonder  is  to  find 
mechanical  forces  Avorking  through  ages,  producing  such  wise,  and 
beneficent,  and  harmonious  results.  The  forces  of  the  universe  are  dis- 
tributed into  numbered  companies,  which  march  in  measured  step  to 
the  sound  of  music.  Pythagoras  declared  that  it  is  because  men  are 
dull  of  hearing,  that  they  do  not  hear  the  music  of  the  spheres.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  that  it  is  only  because  we  have  failed  to  train  as  we  ought 


UNITY    WITH    DIVERSITY.  821 

our  intellectual  organs,  that  we  do  not  perceive  a  wider  ranging  hai*- 
mony  in  the  universe,  than  in  the  most  skilfully  arranged  musical 
concert. 

We  see  it  in  our  Me?ital  Taleiits  mid  Tastes.  The  mind  is  suited 
to  the  position  in  wliich  it  is  placed  in  the  world,  and  the  world  is 
adapted  to  the  minds  which  are  to  observe  and  use  it.  There  is 
order  in  the  world,  and  man  is  so  constituted  as  to  discover  and 
admire  it.  Tliere  is  reason  in  the  works  of  God,  and  reason  in  man's 
mind  to  appreciate  it.  "  If  the  laws  of  our  reason,"  says  Oersted, 
"did  not  exist  in  nature,  Ave  would  vainly  attempt  to  force  them  upon 
her ;  if  the  laws  of  nature  did  not  exist  in  our  reason,  we  should  not 
be  able  to  comprehend  them."  The  forms  Avhich  minerals  assume 
when  they  crystallize  ;  the  elliptic  orbits  of  the  planets ;  the  hyper- 
bolic curves  of  the  comets  ;  the  spiral  conformations  of  the  nebular 
groups  of  the  lieavens,  of  the  appendages  of  plants  around  their  axes, 
and  of  the  whorls  of  the  shells  of  molluscs  ;  the  conical  shape  of  the 
fruit  of  pines  and  firs  with  the  rhomboids  on  their  surface,  are  all  con- 
structed according  to  mathematical  laws  which  have  their  seat  in  the 
intelligence  and  can  be  evolved  by  pure  thought.  When  we  ascend 
to  the  higher  manifestations  of  life,  in  particular,  when  we  rise  to 
the  human  form,  we  do  not  find  the  same  rigid  lines  as  in  crystals,  nor 
are  the  invariable  curves  of  the  nebulae  and  plants  so  observable  ;  but  I 
believe  they  are  still  there  blended  in  innumerable  ways,  so  as  to 
give  an  infinite  sweep  and  variety  to  the  graceful  forms  on  which  the 
eye  ever  delights  to  rest,  and  which  the  mind  never  wearies  to  con- 
template, and  unconsciously  follows  now  the  one  and  now  the  other 
till  it  is  lost  in  a  perfect  wilderness  of  beauty. 

There  is  a  point  here  at  which  the  laws  of  thought  and  the  laM's  of 
things,  at  which  physics  and  metaphysics  meet  and  become  one. 
There  is  beauty  in  God's  works  and  man  has  a  taste  for  it.  Man's  in- 
tellect formed  after  the  image  of  God  delights  in  unity  Avith  variety, 
and  nature  presents  these  everywhere:  in  starry  sky  and  gilded  cloud, 
in  mountain  and  romantic  glen,  in  field  and  river,  in  flower  and  forest. 
And  above  even  beauty,  as  much  higher  as  the  sky  is  above  the  earth, 
we  have  a  sublimity  in  the  massive  rock,  in  the  rolling  thunder,  in  the 
boundless  ocean,  in  the  star  bespangled  expanse  of  heaven,  all  fitted, 
all  intended  ta  call  forth  the  idea  of  the  infinite,  which  the  mind  of 
man  is  ever  striving  to  lay  hold  of  and'  yet  cannot  grasp.  jNIan  has 
faculties  of  a  high  and  varied  order,  and  he  has  means  of  gratifying, 
cultivating  and  refining  them  in  the  study  of  the  works  of  God  ;  and 
I  may  add  in  the  study  of  the  Avorks,  which  man  is  able  to  fashion  by 
his  heaven-endowed  gifts,  in  music,  in  painting,  in  statuary,  in  archi- 
tecture and  most  fully — in  what  is  the  noblest  of  the  fine  arts — in  lit- 
erature,  in   which  the  highest  wisdom  as  disclosed    by  philosophy, 


822  JAMES    McCOSH. 

history,  science — mental,  social  and  j^hysical — is  embodied  in  the  well 
proportioned  expressions  of  prose,  and  the  infinite  modulations  of 
poetry — lyric,  didactic,  tragic,  comic  and  epic.  All  these  ai-e  thrown 
open  te  us  in  ungrudging  profusion,  that  we  may  form  acquaintance 
with  them,  and  converse  with  them,  that  we  may  drink  in  their  spirit 
and  be  moulded  after  their  example.  Here  we  have  a  fund  of  wealth 
which  can  never  be  exhausted,  things  suited  to  all,  things  adapted  to 
each,  to  every  talent,  every  taste,  and  every  pursuit  and  destination  of 
life.  It  is  clear  that  the  intellect,,  and  the  sensibilities  of  our  nature 
are  adapted  in  every  way  to  our  position;  and  that  the  same  God  made 
the  world  within  and  the  world  without.  It  is  evident  that  the  God 
who  made  the  eye  also  made  the  light  that  falls  on  it ;  and  it  is  equally 
certain  that  He  who  made  matter  also  made  mind,  and  these  in  beauti- 
ful correspondence  the  one  to  the  other,  the  one  to  be  used,  the  other 
to  use  it,  the  one  to  be  contemplated,  the  other  to  contemplate  it. 

"  From  laarmony,  from  heavenly  harmony 
This  universal  frame  began. 
From  harmony  to  harmony, 

Through  all  the  compass  of  the  notes  it  ran. 
The  diapason  closing  full  in  man." 

II.  There  is  Unity  with  Div^ersity  in  the  AVord  of  God. 

That  word  was  written  at  very  difierent  times  and  by  writers  of 
very  different  characters,  tastes,  talents  and  temperaments.  Some 
of  the  authors  write  in  a  clear  and  simple,  others  in  an  ornate,  a 
sharp,  or  apothegraatic,  in  a  bold,  or  a  sublime  style.  Some  of  the 
books  have  upon  them  the  hoar  of  antiquity,  and  introduce  us  to  the 
fathers  of  the  race  and  the  beginnings  of  the  stream  of  history. 
Others  are  evidently  composed  when  thought  is  matured  and  culture 
has  reached  a  high  perfection.  One  preserves  a  valuable  piece  of  his- 
tory, another  opens  to  our  view  the  human  heart  in  biography,  a  third 
enjoins  a  practical  precept,  a  fourth  expounds  doctrine  in  systematic 
order.  One  takes  up  his  parable,  another  pours  forth  a  song,  a  third 
utters  a  warning,  a  fourth  cheers  the  dark  days  of  the  people  of  God 
with  the  prospect  of  better  times.  The  greatest  of  all  the  teachers 
touches  the  tenderest  cords,  and  moves  the  lowest  depths  of  the  heart, 
by  simple  statement,  by  vivid  illustration,  derived  from  the  works  of 
nature  and  the  experience  (^f  human  life,  by  truth  which  recom- 
mends itself  intuitively,  by  sentiment  issuing  directly  from  a  tender 
heart,  and  by  pure  precept  descending  from  heaven  to  purify  the 
earth.  "  God  who  at  sundry  times  and  in  divers  manners  spake  in 
times  past  unto  the  fathers  by  the  prophets,  hath  in  these  last  days 
spoken  unto  us  by  his  Son."  But  in  the  midst  of  all  this  diversity 
there  is  unity  from  beginning  to  end.     There  is  one  stream,  rising  in  a 


UNITY    WITH  DIVERSITY.  823 

pure  fountain  in  Etlen;  becoming  defiled  in  the  terrible  fall  into  the 
abyss  of  sin;  often  troubled  and  interrupted,  and  having  to  burst 
through  cbasms ;  now  widening,  and  now  narrowed,  but  flowing  on 
towards  the  ocean  of  eternity.  The  events  occur  after  a  model;  the 
dispensations  are  after  a  pattern,  the  men  are  after  a  type  who  are 
looking  towards  an  archetype,  first  seen  in  tlie  dim  distance,  and  then 
appearing  in  the  fulness  of  time.  It  is  one  progressive  march  of 
prophecy  through  the  ages,  culminating  ever  and  anon  in  a  fulfilment. 
It  is  one  creed  in  regard  to  God  and  Christ  and  man,  in  regard  to  this 
world  and  the  world  to  come,  and  this  underlying — like -the  deeper 
rocks  of  our  earth — the  whole  history,  the  song,  the  dispensations  and 
the  precepts. 

Tlve  mdty  ariaes  mainly  from  the  circumstance  that  there  is  one  God 
inspiring  tlie  writers,  and  bringing  them  all  to  a  consistency.  Even  as 
"  the  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord,"  so  the  Word  which  he  hath  inspired 
is  also  one.  This  is  the  grand  central  sun  which  binds,  which  illu- 
mines all  the  parts,  securing  a  continuity  in  the  history  and  a  con- 
gruity  in  the  doctrine  and  practical  injunction.  While  "all  scripture 
is  giv'en  by  inspiration  of  God,"  it  is  profitable  for.  a  variety  of  pur- 
poses "for  doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in 
righteousness." 

It  arises  from  the  whole  being  a  developmen*  of  tlie  one  iihin  of 
redemption.  We  have  seen  that  there  is  a  universal  harmony  in 
nature.  But  it  is  evident  that  somehow  a  discordant  element  has 
been  introduced.  The  one  of  these  is  as  clear  and  as  certain  as  the 
other.  If  the  one  be  a  fact  so  is  the  other.  Our  business  is  as  ob- 
servers to  notice  both,  as  lovers  of  truth  to  receive  both.  Looking 
within  Ave  find  natural  conscience  clearly  indicating  that  man  is  alien- 
ated from  God  ;  he  is  afraid  of  God,  he  turns  away  from  God.  But 
not  only  is  man  not  at  peace  with  God,  he  is  not  at  peace  with  him- 
self. First  there  is  an  accusing  conscience,  and  then  there  are  lusts 
which  war  against  each  other  and  war  against  the  souL  Looking  with- 
out we  see  feuds,  and  wars,  and  bloodshed;  we  see  disease,  disap- 
pointment and  death,  scarcely  less  prevalent  than  health  and  haj)pi- 
ness.  All  these  things  can  be  traced  directly  or  indirectly  to  sin 
as  their  source.  Now  the  Word  of  God  reveals  a  way  by  which  this 
discordance  is  removed,  by  a  reconciler  and  a  redemption  paid  by 
him.  In  its  evolution  the  plan  assumes  various  forms,  the  Patriarcluil, 
the  Jewish,  the  Christian,  and  there  may  be  a  new  modification  in  the 
millennium.  But  it  is  substantially  the  same  along  the  whole  line. 
God  appears  every  where  as  a  holy  God,  saving  sinners  through  the 
sufferings  of  his  Son.  It  is  under  this  aspect  that  he  is  presented 
every  where  throughout  the  scriptures.  In  the  first  promise  to  fallen 
man  tin?  seed  of  the  woman  is  represented  as  having  his  heel  bruised 


824  ^  JAMES    McCOSH. 

by  tlie  power  of  tlie  serpent,  which  has  its  head  crushed  in  the  act. 
In  the  first  worship  in  Adam's  household  there  is  the  oflering  of  a 
Lleeding  sacrifice.  In  a  later  age,  the  first  act  of  Noah  landed  on  a 
new  earth  was  the  presenting  of  sacrifices  unto  the  Lord.  You  might 
have  followed  the  wandering  path  of  the  patriarchs  by  the  altars 
which  they  built,  and  the  smoke  of  the  sacrifices  which  they  offered. 
Under  the  law  almost  all  things  were  purified  by  blood.  The  grand 
object  presented  in  the  New  Testament  is  a  bleeding  Saviour  sus- 
pended  on  the  cross.  It  is  thus  the  same  view  that  is  presented  under 
the  Patriarchal,  the  Jewish,  and  the  Christian  dispensations.  Except 
in  the  degree  of  development  there  is  no  difference  between  God  as 
revealed  in  Eden,  as  revealed  in  Sinai,  and  revealed  on  Calvary;  be- 
tween God  as  described  in  the  Books  of  Moses,  and  God  as  described 
so  many  centuries  later  in  the  writings  of  Paul  and  of  John.  In  the 
garden  of  Eden  we  have  the  lawgiver,  and  we  have  indications  of  the 
Saviour  as  the  seed  of  the  woman.  On  Mount  Sinai  there  is  the  same 
combination  of  awful  justice  and  condescending  mercy;  the  same  law 
written  on  stone,  but  with  a  provision  for  offering  sacrifices  as  au 
atonement  for  sin.  In  the  mysterious  transactions  on  Calvary  there  is 
an  awful  forsaking  and  a  fearful  darkness  emblematic  of  the  righteous- 
ness and  indignation  of  God,  as  well  as  a  melting  tenderness  in  the 
M  ords  of  our  Lord,  breathing  forgiyeness,  and  telling  of  an  opened 
paradise.  The  first  book  of  scripture  discloses  to  us  a  worshipper 
oflering  a  lamb  in  sacrifice,  and  the  last  book  shows  a  lamb  as  it  had 
been  slain  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  of  God;  "I  beheld  and  lo,  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne  stood  a  lamb  as  it  had  been  slain."  In  heaven 
they  "sing  the  song  of  Moses  the  servant  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb," 

Again,  it  arises  from  the  unity  icith  variety  in  the  experience  of 
believer's.  In  essential  points  the  experience  of  all  is  alike,  and  has 
been  so  from  the  beginning.  It  is  that  of  beings  formed  at  first  in 
the  image  of  God,  from  which  they  have  fallen,  but  now  struggling 
with  sin  amid  fears  and  hopes,  defeats  and  triumphs,  and  aspiring 
after  communion  with  God  and  conformity  to  his  will.  There  is  a 
remarkable  correspondence  in  this  resi^ect  between  the  state  and  feel- 
ings of  the  people  of  God  in  all  ages.  In  particular  we  see  and  feel 
that  there  is  a  curious  correspondence  between  their  situation,  and 
that  of  the  children  of  Israel  as  ransomed  from  Egypt.  It  was  evi- 
dently ordained  at  the  constitution  of  the  kingdom  of  Israel  that  these 
events  should  take  place,  not  only  as  a  means  of  training  ancient 
Israel,  but  for  the  nurture  and  instruction  of  the  people  of  God  in 
every  age,  who  sing  on  earth,  and  shall  sing  in  heaven  "  the  song  of 
Moses  the  servant  of  God."  Were  the  Israelites  delivered  from  a 
degraded  and  cruel  bondage  ?  So  are  we,  but  fi-om  a  greater  and  more 
fearful  sla\ery.     Did  tlie  Lord  raise  up  for  liis  nncient  people  a  deliv- 


U  X  I  T  Y  WITH  DIVERSITY.  S25 

erer  in  Moses?  For  his  people  in  these  times  he  has  provided  a  yet 
greater  deliverer,  for  "  a  greater  than  Moses  is  here."  Did  he  conduct 
ancient  Israel  through  a  desert,  supplying  them  with  all  needful  bless- 
ings, with  manna  to  feed  them,  and  water  to  quench  their  tliirst,  rais- 
ing a  pillar  of  cloud  to  guide  them  by  day,  and  ever  kindling  this  into 
a  pillar  of  fire  by  night  ?  He  still  leads  his  people  through  the  wil- 
derness of  this  world,  supplying  their  temporal  and  spiritual  wants, 
giving  them  bread  to  eat  of  which  the  world  knoweth  not,  and  living- 
water  from  the  smitten  rock  which  is  Christ,  and  he  will  at  last  con- 
duct to  the  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God.  Being  placed 
in  circumstances  so  similar  we  feel  as  if  every  appeal  addressed  to 
them  should  also  come  home  to  us.  Thus  when  the  commandments 
are  prefaced  with  the  declaration  "  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God  which  have 
brought  thee  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt,  out  of  the  house  of  bondage," 
we  feel  as  if  the  motive  were  one  which  should  also  operate  upon  us, 
and  that  we  should  obey  all  the  commandments,  because  Ave  have  been 
redeemed  by  tlie  blood  of  Christ.  That  Old  Testament  narrative  is  all 
true  history,  and  yet  it  reads  as  if  it  were  a  parable,  written  by  some 
man  of  God  for  our  instruction,  so  adapted  is  it  to  our  feelings  and 
circumstances. 

We  have  a  like  experience  in  the  Book  of  Psalms.  The  song  of 
Moses  is  also  the  song  of  the  sweet  Psalmist.  What  mean  these 
wrestlings  so  frequently  and  aifectingly  described,  these  conflicts 
with  an  enemy,  these  humiliations,  these  successes  ?  The  Christian  has 
ever  felt  that  these  experiences  come  home  to  his  case,  and  he  sings 
tlie  Songs  of  Zion,  giving  a  deeper  meaning  to  them  than  even  the 
author  of  them  was  conscious  of.  Coming  to  the  New  Testament  we 
find  One  who  was  without  sin,  but  who,  because  he  stood  in  the  room 
of  sinners  was  obliged  to  say,  "my  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful  even 
unto  death ;"  "  my  God,  ray  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  !  "  We  see 
that  the  song  of  Moses  is  also  the  song  of  the  Lamb.  The  Apostle 
Paul  describes  as  a  universal  characteristic  of  christian  experience, 
"  The  flesh  lusteth  against  the  spirit  and  the  spirit  against  tlie  flesh, 
and  these  are  contrary  the  one  to  the  other,"  and  he  had  to  exclaim, 
"  Oil  Avretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of 
this  death  !  "  Now  wherever  we  have  a  faithful  account  of  the  feelings 
of  the  believer,  we  find  his  experience  corresponding  to  that  of  Paul. 
Look  at  the  confessions  of  Augustine,  the  letters  and  lives  of  the 
Reformers,  and  tlie  diaries  of  later  Christians,  and  we  find  all  of  them 
mourning  over  a  remainder  of  sin,  with  which  they  are  earnestly  con- 
tending, and  wliich  they  hope  finally  to  conquer.  It  is  extremely 
interesting,  and  instructive  withal,  to  observe  this  unity  of  feeling, 
and  to  discover  believers  separated  from  each  other  by  so  many  ages, 
and  living  in  such  different  states  of  society  passing  througli  very 


820  JAMES    McCOSH. 

much  the  same  experience.  It  is  an  evidence  tliat  our  religion  is  tlie 
same  in  all  ages,  the  same  grace  of  God  acting  on  the  same  human 
nature.  The  people  of  every  age,  those  who  come  from  the  north  and 
the  south,  from  the  east  and  the  west,  will  be  able  to  join  in  the  song 
of  Moses  and  the  Lamb. 

But  while  there  is  the  same  spirit  there  are  diversities  of  operation. 
Because  the  spirit  works  in  a  certain  way  in  the  breast  of  one  believer, 
this  is  no  reason  why  he  should  work  in  the  same  way  in  the  heart  of 
every  other  believer,  or  any  other  believer.  He  finds  different  individ- 
uals with  different  natural  temperaments  and  beset  by  different  sins 
and  temptations,  and  he  suits  his  manifestations  to  the  difference  of 
their  state  and  character.  Let  no  Christian  then  insist  that  the  work 
of  tlie  spirit  must  be  precisely  the  same  in  the  heart  of  every  other  as 
in  his  own.  Nor  should  any  humble  child  of  God  permit  himself  to 
doubt  of  the  reality  of  a  work  of  grace  in  his  own  heart,  merely 
because  his  experience  has  not  been  the  same  with  that  of  some 
others  of  whom  he  has  read,  with  whom  he  has  taken  sweet  counsel,  or 
who  has  opened  up  his  heart  to  him.  Just  as  there  is  diversity  in  the 
works  of  nature,  in  the  color  and  size  of  the  plants  and  animals,  that 
people  the  air,  earth  and  ocean,  just  as  there  is  a  variety  in  the  coun- 
tenance and  shape  of  the  bodily  frame  of  human  beings,  just  as  one  star- 
differeth  from  another;  so  Christians,  while  all  after  one  high  model, 
are  made  to  take  different  forms  and  hues  of  beauty  on  earth,  and 
shall  thus  be  transplanted  to  heaven,  to  adorn  the  garden  of  God  and 
shine  as  stars,  each  with  his  own  glory  in  the  firmament  above.  As 
in  heaven  the  foundations  of  the  wall  of  the  city  are  garnished  Avith 
"  all  manner  of  precious  stones,"  and  the  tree  of  life  in  the  midst  of 
the  street  bears  "  twelve  manner  of  fruits,"  so  the  people  of  God  will 
there  as  here  have  each  his  own  characteristics,  and  the  song  which 
ascends  will  be  a  concert  of  divei'se  voices,  each  melodious,  and  each 
in  its  diversity  joining  with  the  others  to  make  the  harmony.  Each 
in  his  own  way  will  join  in  singing  "  the  song  of  Moses  the  servant  of 
God  and  of  the  Lamb." 

IIL  There  is  an  accokdance  between  the  Works  and  Word 
OF  God  and  yet  there  is  a  difference.  Both  come  from  God  and 
therefore  reflect  the  character  of  God.  But  they  exhibit  it  in  some- 
what difi'erent  light.  Nature  teaches  us  by  potent  forces,  by  arrange- 
ments, by  laws,  and  shows  order  and  beneficence.  The  Word  instructs 
by  flexible  language,  by  clear  enunciations,  by  arguments,  by  appeals, 
by  theatenings,  by  promises,  and  tells  of  a  sin-liating  God  who 'yet 
pardons  iniquity.  The  woi'ks  manifest  his  power  and  his  wisdom. 
The  Word  displays  more  fully  his  holiness  on  the  one  hand  and  his 
mercy  on  the  other.  Wlien  Moses  desired  to  behold  the  glory  of 
God,  the  Lord  passed  by  before  him  and  proclaimed  "  The  Lord,  the 


UNITY    WITH    DIVERSITY.  827 

Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suftcring  and  abundant  In  good- 
ness and  truth,  keeping  mercy  for  thousands,  forgiving  iniquity  and 
transgression  and  sin,  and  that  will  by  no  means  clear  the  guilty." 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  there  are  times  when  science  and 
scripture  seem  as  if  they  contradict  each  other,  with  no  means  of 
reconciling  them.  But  it  is  only  as  one  branch  of  science  may 
seem  to  be  inconsistent  with  another.  There  are  times  when  astron- 
omy seems  to  run  counter  to  geology:  geology  requires  very  long  ages 
to  explain  its  phenomena,  to  account  for  the  successive  strata  and 
races  of  animals  on  the  earth's  surface,  whereas  astronomy  seems  to 
say  that  so  long  time  has  not  elapsed  since  the  earth  was  formed  by 
the  rotation  of  nebulous  matter.  Nobody  thinks  that  there  can  be 
any  absolute  contradiction  between  the  two  sciences;  every  one  be- 
lieves that  sooner  or  later  the  seeming  inconsistencies  will  be  cleared 
lip.  1  say  the  same  of  the  apparent  incongruities  between  Genesis 
and  geology.  Account  for  it  as  we  may  there  is  a  general  correspond- 
ence between  the  two,  the  record  in  stone  and  the  record  in  scripture. 
There  is  an  order  with  a  progression  which  is  very  much  the  same  in 
both.  In  both  there  is  light  before  the  sun  appears.  In  Genesis  the 
fiat,  "  Let  there  be  light  and  there  was  light"  goes  forth  the  first  day, 
and  the  sun  comes  out  the  fourth  day,  in  accordance  with  science, 
which  tells  us  that  the  earth  was  thrown  off  ages  before  the  sun  had 
become  condensed  into  the  centre  of  the  planetary  system.  In  both 
the  inanimate  comes  before  the  animate ;  in  both  the  plant  is  sup- 
posed to  come  before  the  animal;  and  in  both  fishes  and  fowl  before 
creeping  things  and  cattle.  In  both  we  have  as  the  last  of  the  train, 
man,  standing  upright  and  facing  the  sky,  made  of  the  dust  of  the 
ground,  and  yet  filled  with  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty.  It  is 
clear  that  there  must  be  great  truth  in  that  opening  chapter  of  Genesis 
which  has  anticipated  geology  by  three  thousand  3'^ears.  With  such 
correspondences  we  may  leave  the  apparent  irreconcilabilities  to  be 
explained  by  future  investigation.  "  lie  that  believeth  will  not  make 
haste."  At  times  it  is  not  easy  to  reconcile  profane  history  with  scrip- 
ture; but  ever  and  anon  there  cast  up  such  things  as  tlie  monuments 
of  Kgypt,  the  palaces  of  Nineveh,  and  the  stone  of  "Moab  to  tell  us 
that  the  Old  Testament  gives  us  a  coi'rect  picture  of  the  state  of  the 
nations  in  ancient  times.  We  who  dwell  in  a  world  "where  day  and 
night  alternate,"  we  who  go  everywhere  accompanied  with  our  own 
shadow,  cannot  expect  to  be  delivered  from  the  darkness,  but  we  have 
enough  of  light  to  show  the  path  which  will  lead  us  through  the  per- 
plexities. 

I  might  dwell  on  the  numerous  analogies  between  nature  and  rev- 
elation. Both  give  the  same  expanded  views  of  the  greatness  of  God; 
the  one  by  showing  his  workmanship,  the   other  by  its  descrii)tion9. 


823  JAMES    McCOSH. 

"The  heavens  dccl.irc' the  glory  of  God  and  the  firmament  showeth 
his  handiwork.  Day  unto  day  nttereth  speech  and  night  unto  night 
showeth  knowledge."  Both  show  that  there  is  only  one  God  ;  the 
works,  which  are  boiind  in  one  concatenated  system,  and  the  Word 
when  it  declares  that  "  the  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord."  But  instead 
of  launching  forth  on  this  wide  but  obvious  and  commonplace  sub- 
ject, I  must  confine  myself  to  two  points  brought  into  prominence  by 
recent  science. 

One  is  the  operation  of  development  or  evolution.  We  see  it 
everywhere,  both  in  the  natural  and  supernatural  dispensations  of 
God.  "  The  sun  ariseth  and  the  sun  goeth  down,  and  hasteth  to  his 
place  whence  he  arose."  "The  wind  returneth  again  according  to  his 
circuits."  "  Unto  the  place  from  whence  the  rivers  arise  they  return 
again."  But  while  all  things  go  in  their  circuits,  yet  in  doing  so 
they  leave  their  abiding  results:  the  sun  calleth  forth  vegetation  and 
giveth  heat  and  light;  the  winds  give  breath  to  every  living  thing; 
and  the  rivers  leave  their  deposit  wliich  when  raised  up  may  become 
fertile  land.  We  see  it  in  the  earth  bringing  forth  grass,  "the  herb 
yielding  seed  and  the  fruit  tree  yielding  fruit  tree  after  his  kind,  W"hose 
seed  is  in  itself."  All  this  does  not  prove,  as  some  Avould  aver,  that 
there  is  nothing  but  development.  The  extent  of  the  process  has  not 
yet  been  settled;  but  it  is  certain  that  it  has  limits.  For  there  can- 
not be  development  without  some  previous  material,  without  some 
seed  out  of  which  the  thing  developed  has  come,  and  the  most  ad- 
vanced science  cannot  show  whence  or  how  the  original  matter  and 
germ  have  come.  And  then  development  is  a.vQry  complex  operation 
in  which  there  is  a  vast  variety  of  agents  known  and  unknown,  and 
these  evidently  combined  by  a  power  above  them  to  accomplish  a  pur- 
jjose.  As  evolution  from  a  germ  according  to  a  general  law  is  a 
common  process  in  nature,  so  we  see  a  like  operation  in  the  kingdom 
of  grace.  The  Jewish  economy  is  developed  out  of  the  Patriarchal, 
the  Christian  out  of  the  Jewish  according  to  a  law  in  the  Divine  Mind 
and  by  agencies  appointed  by  Divine  Wisdom ;  and  the  seed  planted 
eighteen  hundred  years  in  the  world  has  become  a  wide-spread  tree; 
all  implying  an  original  germ  and  a  formative  process,  rising  into 
higlier  and  ever  higher  forms  of  spiritual  life,  and  about  to  effloresce 
into  a  period,  in  which  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  shall  be  poured  on  all 
flesh. 

Another  point  is,  that  experience,  history  and  science  all  concur 
with  the  Word  of  God  in  the  view  which  they  present  of  the  state  of 
things  in  which  we  are  placed.  The  vain  and  frivolous  may  feel  as 
if  the  Scriptures  have  drawn  too  dark  a  picture  of  our  world,  when 
they  describe  it  as  a  scene  of  sin  and  suffering,  with  terrible  conflicts 
witliin  and  without.     But  all  Avlio  have  had  hirge  experience  of  human 


U  N  I  T  T    \V  I  T  II    D  I  V  E  11  S  I  T  Y  .  829 

life  will  be  ready  to  acknowledge  that  the  account  is  a  correct  one. 
The  faithful  representation  of  human  character  is  to  many  the  most 
satisfactory  evidence  of  the  truthfulness  of  the  Word  of  God.  The 
young  and  inexi^erienced  may  imagine,  that  in  that  distant  spot  on  the 
landscape  on  which  the  sun  is  shining,  there  must  be  a  paradise  still 
lingering  on  our  earth:  but  when  they  actually  go  to  it  they  find  it  to 
be  very  much  like  the  other  parts  of  the  earth's  surface.  Often  in 
sailing  on  the  rough  ocean  have  I  imagined  that  away  in  the  horizon 
there  is  an  unbroken  calm,  but  on  the  vessel  reaching  the  spot  it 
turned  out  to  be  agitated  and  distracted  like  the  place  from  which  I 
surveyed  it.  History  tells  the  same  story.  How  much  of  it  is  occu- 
pied with  the  narrative  of  battles  and  this  from  the  earliest  to  the  latest 
times — in  which  we  have  had  two  terribly  desolating  wars.  We  boast 
of  our  splendid  cities  ;  but  in  every  one  of  them  you  will  find  sinks 
of  iniquity,  with  crime  and  misery  festering  and  fermenting,  and  into 
which  are  poured  the  filth  engendered  by  the  vices  of  the  wealthy. 
And  in  our  rural  districts  there  are  feuds  and  rivalries,  bred  of  self- 
ishness and  passion,  raging  in  scenes  in  which  all  may  seem  so  ralm 
and  peaceful  to  the  superficial  observer.  There  are  warring  elements 
in  every  human  bosom,  and  in  evei-y  society  composed  of  human 
beings.  Any  one  seeking  to  remove  the  causes  of  discord  Avill  be  sure 
to  irritate  and  to  meet  with  determined  opposition,  and  he  who  has 
done  most  to  assuage  the  storm  had  to  say  "I  am  come  to  send  fire 
on  the  earth."  "  Suppose  ye  that  I  am  come  to  give  peace  on  earth, 
I  tell  you  nay,  but  rather  division."  The  greatest  men  in  our  world 
have  been  martyrs  who  in  order  to  pull  down  the  evil  have  had  them- 
selves to  perish.  And  is  not  the  science  of  our  day  giving  us  the  very 
same  picture?  When  we  read  the  older  treatises  of  natural  theology, 
founded  on  scientific  observation,  the  impression  is  apt  to  be  left  that 
our  world  is  all  fertile  and  smiling  landscape  with  no  desert  and  no 
troubled  sea,  is  basking  in  the  full  sunshine  of  heaven  with  no  dark- 
ness and  no  night.  But  of  late  years  science  has  been  obliged  to 
speak  of  terrible  conflicts.  What  mean  these  discoveri(!S  of  worlds 
being  formed  out  of  warring  elements?  What  mean  these  "struggles 
for  existence  "  of  which  naturalists  are  for  ever  speaking  ?  It  is  clear 
thjxt  suiferiug  and  death  were  on  our  earth  since  life  appeared  on  it, 
and  reigned  "over  them  that  had  not  sinned  after  the  similitude  of 
Adam's  transgression."  Does  not  science  as  Avell  as  Scripture  shew 
that  "the  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together 
until  now  ?  "  The  two  are  thus  seen  to  be  in  curious  correspondence  ; 
but  tliey  diirei-  in  this  that  while  both  speak  of  a  troubled  day  the 
later  and  more  comforting  revelation  of  God  assures  us  that  "at  even- 
ing time  there  shall  be  light." 


DISCOURSE  LX. 

NE^^^MA1S^    HALL,    LL.B. 

Mr.  Hall  was  born  in  1816,  and  educated  at  Totteridge,  and  at  Highbury  Col- 
lege, and  graduated  B.  A.  at  the  London  University.  In  1855  he  took  the  degree 
of  LL.B.,  and  won  the  law  scholarship.  He  was  appointed  minister  of  the  Albion 
Congregational  Church,  Hull,  England  in  1842,  and  remained  at  that  post  till 
1854,  when  he  became  minister  of  Surrey  Chapel,  known  as  Bowland  Hill's 
Chapel,  in  the  Blackfriars-road,  London.  He  is  the  author  of  several  devotional 
tracts,  the  most  popular  of  which  is  "  Come  to  Jesus,"  of  which  more  than  one 
million  and  a  half  copies  have  been  issued  in  this  country.  It  has  been  extensively 
circulated  in  the  United  States,  and  translated  into  about  thirty  languages.  He 
has  written  an  argumentative  treatise  on  sacrifice,  in  opposition  to  the  views  of  Mr. 
Maurice  and  others  ;  a  volume  of  sermons,  entitled  "  Homeward  Bound  ;"  "  Notes 
of  a  Journey  from  Liverpool  to  St.  Louis  ; "  and  several  small  works  on  teetotal- 
isra,  of  which  he  has  been  an  earnest  advocate  during  thirty  years.  He  published 
a  small  volume  of  devotional  poetry,  entitled  "  Pilgrim  Songs  in  Cloud  and  Sun- 
shine," in  1871.  He  has  labored  in  various  ways  for  the  social  elevation  of  the 
masses,  and  has  opened  his  chapel  for  weekly  lectures  on  secular  subjects,  which 
have  brought  large  numbers  of  persons  under  religious  influences.  He  was  unani- 
mously elecjted  chairman  of  the  Congregational  Union  in  1866.  Though  a  Noncon- 
formist, he  is  an  advocate  of  liturgies,  and  the  Church  of  England  service,  with 
very  slight  alterations,  is  used  at  his  chapel.  He  has  twice  visited  the  L^nited 
States  ;  and  in  two  hemispheres  he  is  known  and  beloved  as  one  of  the  most  tise- 
ful  ministers  of  the  day.  A  volume  of  his  sermons  has  been  published  in  this 
country,  by  Sheldon  &  Co.,  of  New  York. 


THE  PENITENT  THIEF. 


"  And  he  said  unto  Jesus,  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  king- 
dom. And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Verily  I  say  unto  thee.  To-day  shalt  thou  be 
with  me  in  paradise." — Luke  xxiii.  42,  43. 

These  words  bring  before  us  a  remarkable  illustration  both  of  a 
sinner's  repentance  and  of  the  Saviour's  grace. 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  repentance  of  the  dying  thief. 

Jesus  was  hanging  on  the  cross,  and  tlic  brutal  crowd  mocked  Him 
in  His  agony.     The  thieves  also  derided  Him.     The  aristocracy  of  the 

*  Preached  on  Sunday  evening,  November  3,  1867,  in  Plymouth  Church, 
Brooklyn,  Rev.  H.  tV.  Beecher,  pastor. 


THE    PENITENT    THIEF.  S31 

.Tews  rejected  Ilim.  The  priesthood  condemned  Ilim.  The  populace 
clamored  for  His  blood.  Kascality  itself  turned  upon  Him.  None  so 
mean  and  base  as  not  to  reproach  Him  as  baser  still.  The  thieves  who 
were  crucified  with  Him  identified  Him  with  themselves,  as  they 
taunted  Him,  saying,  "  Save  Thyself  and  ns." 

There  may  be  human  dignity  in  suitable  resentment.  But  Jesus 
M-as  more  than  man.  "  When  He  was  reviled,  he  reviled  not  again." 
If  indignation  is  manly,  such  patience  is  divine. 

The  Evangelists  MatthcAV  and  Mark  record  that  both  the  thieves 
reviled  Him.  Luke  uses  a  stronger  expression,  but  confines  it  to  only 
one  of  them.  He  "  railed  on  Him."  Comparing  the  narratives,  we 
infer  that  at  first  both  of  them  reproached  and  reviled  Him,  but  that 
afterwards  one  of  them  went  on  to  utter  viler  blasphemies  against 
Him,  while  tlie  other  repented  and  prayed. 

How  do  we  account  for  the  change?  Was  it  an  instantaneous  con- 
version ?  Such  conversions  sometimes  take  place,  though,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  not  so  frequently  now  as  in  the  beginning  of  the 
Christian  church.  Where  the  knowledge  of  the  gospel  is  widely  dif- 
fused, and  we  are  tauglit  it  from  our  earliest  years,  and  the  means  of 
grace  abound,  and  religious  influences  are  constantly  in  operation,  we 
may  expect  that  conversion  will  be  the  result  of  many  impressions, 
each  of  which  may  be  unobserved  and  forgotten,  but  the  issue  of  the 
whole  of  which  is  evident.  But  the  case  is  different  when  the  truth 
of  Christ  is  suddenly  brought  before  a  mind  entirely  ignorant  of  it 
previously.  Such  was  the  conversion  of  St.  Paul.  Such  was  most 
probably  the  conversion  of  the  dying  thief. 

And  yet  it  is  conceivable  that  this  was  not  the  first  time  he  had 
Hcen  the  Saviour.  We  may  imagine  that  on  some  day,  when  prowling 
about  with  dishonest  purpose,  he  had  joined  a  crowd  in  order  to  rob 
the  unwary,  and  that,  spell-bound  by  the  eloquence  of  Him  Avhose  per- 
suasive voice  had  gathered  the  multitude,  he  forgot  his  felonious  pur- 
])ose,  and  went  away  thoughtful  and  conscience-stricken.  We  may 
imagine  that  since  his  capture  those  convictions  returned  to  him,  and 
that  they  were  revived  with  great  power  when  he  beheld  in  his  fellow- 
sufferer  that  very  preacher  whose  words  had  pierced  liis  lieart.  He 
must  have  been  convinced  that  Jesus  had  done  nothing  to  deserve 
such  a  sentence.  He  must  have  wondered  at  the  combined  dignity 
and  meekness  of  His  demeanor.  Still  more,  he  must  have  been  im- 
pressed, when,  instead  of  rebuking  His  murderers.  He  prayed  for  them. 
And  he  must  have  felt  the  great  contrast  between  the  character  of 
Jesus  and  his  own. 

Yet,  at  first  he  joined  with  his  companion  in  reproaching  and  re- 
viling Jesus.  Perhaps  he  did  it  in  spite  of  the  strong  remons^trance 
of  his  conscience.  His  heart  reproved  his  tongue.  But  when  a 
53 


832  KEWMAN    HALL. 

change  of  conduct  takes  place,  there  must  be  a  beginning  which  is 
obvious,  though  the  inward  change  may  have  been  previously  going 
on  unobserved.  The  dying  thief  felt  ashamed  and  full  of  remorse  at 
h-is  own  vile  words  against  so  innocent  and  so  dignified,  yet  so  patient 
a  sufferer.  The  more  heartless  and  wicked  railings  of  his  companion 
stirred  his  displeasure.  The  Spirit  of  Gofd  all  the  while  was  working 
within  him.  While  the  other  curses,  he  is  silent,  then  indignant.  He 
disavows  his  former  reproaches.  He  reproves  his  companion.  He  be- 
comes a  suppliant  to  Jesus,  and  confesses  Him  as  Lord  and  King. 

Some  persons  have  a  very  false  idea  of  repentance.  They  regard 
it  as  an  act  which,  though  its  consequences  are  infinitely  important,  is 
itself  easy  of  accomplishment,  and  is  in  our  power  at  whatever  time 
we  choose,  and  even  at  the  last  moment  of  life.  They  refer  to  the  re- 
pentance of  the  dying  thief  in  confirmation  of  this  view.  Let  us  then 
consider  attentively  the  nature  of  the  change  which  took  place  in  him, 
for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  repentance  is  not  so  easy  and  super- 
ficial a  thing  as  many  persons  suppose. 

Repentance  is  a  change  of  heart,  of  desire,  of  motive,  disposition, 
such  a  change  as  must  necessarily  result  in  a  corresponding  change  of 
conduct.  It  is  not  mere  regret  for  the  past,  nor  mere  dread  of  the 
future,  but  such  a  genuine  alteration  of  character  as  to  resemble  a 
second  birth,  a  new  life.  Let  us  see  how  this  change  was  indicated  in 
the  dying  thief. 

1.  He  manifested  reverence  towards  God.  He  said  to  his  com- 
panion, "  Dost  thou  not  fear  God  ?  " 

One  characteristic  of  the  wicked  is  that  "they  have  no  fear  of 
God  before  their  eyes."  They  cannot  have  this  reverence,  and  still  go 
on  in  sin.  They  do  not  reverence  His  holiness,  for  they  violate  every 
law  of  it.  They  do  not  reverence  His  omniscience,  for  they  seem  to  say 
continually,  "How  doth  God  know  ?  "  They  do  not  reverence  His  jus- 
tice, for  they  live  in  defiance  of  it.  They  do  not  reverence  His  power, 
for  their  opposition  to  His  will  seems  to  imply  that  they  do  not 
believe  He' is  able  to  enforce  it.  On  the  contrary,  "The  fear  of  the 
Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,"  and  is  the  foundation  of  a  godly 
life.  It  is  no  small  change  to  pass  from  a  state  of  irreverence  to 
one  of  godly  fear — from  habitual  forgetfulness  or  defiance  of  God  to 
habitual  recognition  of  His  claims  on  our  homage  and  obedience. 

There  piay  be  some  here  who  have  not  yet  advanced  so  fas  as  the 
dying  thief.  Art  thou  living  in  the  wilful  indulgence  of  any  sin  ? 
God  sees,  He  notes,  He  remembers,  He  will  judge.  "Dost  thou  not 
fear  God  ?  "  Art  thou  neglecting  Christ,  the  only  Saviour  ?  -  "  Thou 
art  in  the  same  condemnation"  with  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  art  thou 
slill  refusing  to  trust  in  Him  who  alone  can  save  thee  from  the  right- 
eous wrath  of  an  oftended  Ruler?     Dost  thou  not  fear  God  ? 


THE    PEXITEXT    THIEF.  833 

2.  The  dying  thief  manifested  contrition  for  sin,  and  confessed  it. 
"Thou  art  in  the  same  condemnation,  and  we  indeed  justly,  for  Ave 
receive  tlie  due  reward  of  our  deeds." 

Jesus  was  condemned,  but  lie  was  innocent.  Tlie  malefactors 
also  were  condemned,  but  the  penitent  one  confessed  that  they  were 
guilty.  He  was  suffering  the  acute  agony  of  the  cross,  yet  he  said  it 
was  deserved.  He  made  jiublic  confession.  We  may  infer  that  this 
proceeded  from  a  humble,  lowly,  and  penitent  heart.  Is  this  so  easy 
to  obtain,  as  some  suppose  ?  Is  it  a  superficial  change  which  any  one 
may  bring  about  whenever  he  pleases? 

Are  there  not  some  here  who  have  not  yet  experienced  this 
change  ?  You  do  not  admit  you  are  in  "  the  same  condemnation"  with 
others.  You  pride  yourself  with  being  much  belter.  You  do  not  feel 
that  when  you  suffer,  you  suffer  "justly."  You  murmur  at  trials. 
You  complain  of  the  harshness  of  Providence  towards  you.  You  are 
not  yet  penitent.  Though  you  may  not  have  done  the  same  things  as 
the  dying  thief,  you  have  the  same  lack  of  any  true  knowledge  and 
fear  of  God.  You  have  wandered  from  Him  in  your  "  own  way." 
And  you  have  not  yet  returned  with  a  contrite  heart,  seeking  forgive- 
ness ?  The  penitence  of  the  dying  thief  reproves  your  hardness  of 
heart.  Is  it  so  easy  to  feel  this  penitence  that  you  may  trifle  with 
conversion,  and  put  it  off  to  the  latest  and  weakest  hour  of  life? 

3.  The  dying  thief  appreciated  the  goodness  of  Christ.  "  This  man 
hath  done  nothing  amiss." 

True  repentance  is  not  merely  negative.  It  not  only  abhors  what 
is  evil,  but  admires  what  is  good.  The  thief  had  heard  much  of 
Christ,  and  what  he  had  now  seen  of  His  sublime  patience  more  than 
confirmed  all  he  had  heard.  He  contemplated  a  character  so  difierent 
from  his  own  with  admiration  and  reverence.  Is  this  a  slight  change 
to  take  place  in  the  human  heart  ?  Is  it  so  very  easy  to  alter  our 
sympathies  and  moral  tastes,  and  from  having  turned  away  from  the 
righteous  with  revulsion,  to  turn  away  from  our  companions  in  sin, 
and,  wliile  condemning  ourselves  and  them,  to  admire  righteousness, 
and  to  testify  such   admiration  to  those  who  do  not  share  it  ? 

4.  The  dying  thief  bore  public  witness  to  Christ — "  This  man  hath 
done  nothing  amiss." 

He  was  not  ashamed  of  his  change  of  sentiment.  In  the  j^resence, 
not  of  tlie  friends,  but  of  the  foes,  of  Jesus,  he  confessed  Him  to  be 
the  faultless  One.  Christ  was  hanging  there  as  a  malefactor;  but 
the  dying  thief  proclaimed,  "He  hath  done  nothing  amiss."  Caiaphas 
had  ])rononnced  Him  a  blasphemer;  but  a  truer  judge  declared,  "He 
hath  done  nothing  amiss,"  Pilate  had  condemned  Him  to  be  cruci- 
fied ;  l)ut  "  He  hath  done  nothing  amiss."  Tiie  multitude  had 
shouted   for  His  death;  but  still  this  testimony  was  borne,  "He  hath 


834  NEWMAN    HALL. 

done  nothing  amiss."  Do  %oe  thus  confess  the  Lord  Jesus  ?  Are  we 
ready  at  all  times  to  testify  that  in  His  human  life,  in  His  mediatorial 
work,  in  His  claim  to  be  the  divine  Messiah,  in  His  demand  for  our 
best  love  and  obedience,  He  hath  done  nothing  amiss  ?  Such  readi- 
ness to  stand  up  for  Jesus  under  all  circumstances  indicates  no  merely 
sujjerficial  change.' 

5.  The  dying  thief  manifested  strong  faith.  He  said,  "Lord 
remember  me  when  thou  comest  into  thy  kingdom," 

He  called  Jesus  "  Lord."  He  recognized  him  as  j^ossessing  a 
"  kingdom."  This  was  wonderful.  What  marks  were  then  exhibited 
of  lordship  and  a  kingdom  ?  Jesus  was  condemned,  insulted,  crucified, 
yet  the  thief  called  him  Lord  !  He  had  no  robes  but  the  crimson 
streams  that  flowed  down  Him  ;  no  crown  but  the  thorns  that  lacerated 
Him  ;  no  throne  but  the  cross  that  tortui-ed  Him  ;  no  courtiers  but  the 
rabble  that  hooted  Him  ;  yet  this  dying  thief  called  Him  Lord,  and 
recognized  in  Him  one  able  to  bestow  the  privileges  and  honors  of  a 
kingdom ! 

O  thief,  great  was  thy  faith!  "Worthy  art  thou  of  a  place  in  the 
record  of  the  elders,  who  obtained  a  good  report ;  along  with  Noah, 
who  prepared  the  ark  when  there  was  no  apj^earance  of  any  flood  ;  and 
Abraham,  who  offered  Isaac  when  there  seemed  no  possibility  that  the 
promise  could  be  fulfilled,  if  the  precept  were  obeyed;  and  Moses, 
who  chose  to  suffer  with  the  people  of  God,  when  there  Avere  no 
outward  advantages  to  compensate  for  the  loss  of  the  treasures  of 
Egypt:  along  with  these,  thy  name  shall  be  associated,  for  thou  didst 
hail  Jesus  as  King,  when  He  was  poor,  vanquished,  murdered,  and 
Avith  no  outward  signs  of  kingship.  The  disciples  confessed  Him  King, 
but  this  was  after  they  had  witnessed  the  wonders  of  the  Resurrection, 
and  the  Ascension,  and  the  Pentecost,  and  the  many  infallible  signs 
which  proved  that  He  who  had  been  crucified  was  verily  Lord  and, 
King;  but  now,  those  disciples,  save  one,  have  fled  from  their  Master, 
and  their  hearts  failed  them,  v/hile  thou,  O  thief,  mighty  in  faith,  didst 
even  alone  amidst  His  enemies,  and  when  there  were  no  signs  of  royal- 
ty, acknowledge  Jesus  as  King  ! 

Have  we  such  faith  ?  Do  we  practically  believe  in  the  kingshi])  of 
Jesus,  rendering  to  Him  the  obedience  of  loyal  subjects  ?  Are  tee  look- 
ing forward  to  the  time  when  He  will  come  again  in  His  kingdom? 
And  amidst  difficulties,  discouragements,  and  trials,  do  we  still  confide 
in  Ilim  as  our  omnipotent  Lord  ? 

G.  The  dying  thief  prayed — "  Lord,  remember  me  when  thou  comest 
into  Thy  kingdom." 

There  was  great  humility  in  his  prayer.  He  asked  for  nothing 
definite.  He  would  not  presume  to  solicit  any  special  favor.  He  simply 
asked  to  be  remembered.     But  this  humility  was  combined  with  strong 


THE    PENITENT    THIEF.  835 

faitli.  It  was  enough  for  the  Lord  only  to  think  of  him.  There  was 
no  ni'i'd  to  prescribe  or  suggest  any  particular  mode  of  benefiting  the 
suppliant.  He  knew  that  everything  he  needed  was  involved  in  re- 
membrance by  Christ.  Submissiveness,  too,  was  implied.  He  asked 
not  for  a  gift  only,  but  for  service.  lie  implied  his  readiness  to  act  as 
a  loyal  subject  to  his  Lord.  "Remember  me  when  Thou  comest  into 
Tliy  kingdom.'''' 

What  a  combination  !  Humility,  faith,  obedience,  are  all  expressed 
in  this  petition.  Do  v^e  thus  pray?  Conscious  of  our  unworthiness 
confident  in  Christ's  mercy  and  power,  ready  to  serve  Him  whose  favor 
we  seek,  is  it  thus  we  come  before  Him  in  prayer?  Surely  the  repent- 
ance which  wrought  the  state  of  mind  of  which  this  prayer  is  the  expe- 
rience, was  no  superficial  change. 

7.  Besides  these  marks  of  earnestness  for  his  own  salvation,  the 
dying  thief  exhil)ited  zealous  concern  for  others. 

He  reproved  his  companion.  He  reproved  him  in  a  manner  calcu- 
lated to  lead  him  also  to  the  same  penitence  he  himself  experienced. 
Here  were  good  works  as  a  very  early  fruit  of  faith.  This  same  spirit, 
had  he  lived,  Avould  have  prompted  him  to  constant  and  loving  efforts 
for  the  good  of  others. 

How  complete,  then,  was  his  conversion  !  Reverence  for  God  had 
taken  the  place  of  impiety.  He  lamented  and  confessed  his  sins.  He  re- 
cognized and  extolled  goodness.  He  publicly  confessed  the  Lord  Jesus. 
His  faith  was  strong,  in  spite  of  difficulties.  Pie  prayed  with  liumility, 
earnestness,  aiul  submission.  And  he  was  zealous  to  do  good  to  others, 
Sanctification  always  begins  Avith  the  exercise  of  that  reliance  on  Chi-ist 
which  secures  salvation.  And  sanctification  had  evidently  made  much 
progress  in  the  dying  thief,  A  great  work  had  been  accomplished  by 
the  power  of  God.     When   He  pleases,  "a  nation  is  born  in  a  day.'' 

Here  was  a  moral  miracle,  more  em2:)hatic  than  any  of  those  physi- 
cal signs  which  attended  the  crucifixion.  A  supernatural  darkness  fell 
upon  the  district ;  but  more  marvellous  was  the  removal  of  spiritual 
darkness  from  this  dying  thief  The  earth  did  quake  and  the  rocks 
rent ;  but  more  divine  was  the  rending  of  his  stony  heart.  "  The  graves 
were  opened,  and  many  bodies  of  the  saints  which  slept  arose  ;"  but 
it  was  a  greater  miracle  when  this  man,  dead  and  sepulchred  in  sin, 
arose  in  newness  of  life.  "  The  veil  of  the  temple  was  rent  in  twain 
from  the  top  to  the  bottom;"  but  more  glorious  was  the  entrance  of 
this  ransomed  soul  into  the  inner  sanctuary,  by  Christ,  the  new  and 
living  way. 

This  was  a  conversion  wrought  by  special  divine  grace.  Docs  this 
show  that  it  was  a  trifling  work  ?  The  very  contrary.  With  God  "  a 
thousand  years  are  as  one  day;"  and  by  him  a  work  may  be  done  in  a 
moment,  for  which  the  loncrest  life  would  be  too  short.     Man,  as  Avell 


836  NEWMAN    HALL. 

as  God,  is  concerned  in  the  work  of  salvation.  We  are  called  on  to 
rej^ent,  to  change  our  minds,  to  be  converted,  to  believe,  and  be  saved. 
Let  ITS  then  consider  our  own  responsibility.  We  have  a  work  to  do, 
the  importance  of  which  no  words  can  describe.  The  difficulty  is  so 
great,  that  without  God's  help  it  could  not  be  accomplished;  so  great, 
that  with  that  help  we  are  exhorted  to  "  give  all  diligence  to  make 
our  calling  and  election  sure,"  and  to  "  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait 
gate." 

Are  we,  then,  to  regard  it  as  so  easy  a  Avork  that  it  can  be  quickly 
done,  and  may  therefore  safely  be  delayed  to  any  convenient  season, 
or  to  the  close  of  life  ?  Is  conversion  mei-ely  saying,  "  God  be  merci- 
ful to  me,  a  sinner  ?  "  It  is  an  entire  change  of  thought,  feeling,  pur- 
pose, character.  Is  this  within  our  power  at  any  time  we  choose  ? 
Can  we  afford  to  lose  any  opportunity  of  promoting  it  ?  If  we  were  to 
live  a  thousand  years,  would  a  thousand  years  be  too  long  to  "  work 
out  our  own  salvation?"  If  we  resist  and  drive  away  from  us  the 
Holy  Spirit,  can  we  at  any  time  secure  His  return  ?  or,  without  His 
help,  accomplish  the  great  work  ? 

Then,  without  delay,  "  repent  and  believe  the  gospel."  Seek  grace 
from  Him  who  is  "  exalted,  a  prince  and  a  Saviour,  to  give  repentance 
unto  Israel  and  remission  of  sins."  Pray,  as  the  dying  thief  did,  that 
Jesus  may  remember  you  in  mercy.  "  Lord  I  am  a  vile,  ruined  sinner, 
unwortfiy  Thy  notice  ;  yet  remember  me.  I  would  lament  and  forsake 
my  sins;  I  disown  them  ;  I  would  live  no  longer  in  them :  Lord,  remem- 
ber me.  I  confess  Thy  name  ;  I  plead  Thy  righteousness :  remember 
me.  I  am  Thine  ;  I  claim  Thy  succor  ;  I  cling  to  Thy  cross ;  Lord^ 
remember  rne.  When  I  am  grieviously  tempted  by  the  world,  the 
flesh  or  the  devil,  O,  help  me  to  conquer;  Lord,  remember  me!  When 
I  am  forsaken,  anxious,  heart-broken  with  many  sorrows,  be  Tliou  at 
my  right  hand  to  help  and  comfort :  Lord,  remember  me.  And  when 
like  the  penitent  thief,  I  am  about  to  die,  then  I  still  will  cry,  Be- 
member  ■me.'''' 

"  0  Thou,  from  whom  all  goodness  flows, 
I  lift  my  soul  to  tliee  ; 
In  all  my  sorrows,  conflicts,  woes, 
Good  Lord,  o'ememhcr  me. 

"  When  on  my  aching,  burdened  heart 
My  sins  lie  heavily, 
My  pardon  speak,  new  peace  impart  ; 
In  love  remember  me. 

"  If  on  my  face  for  Thy  dear  name 
Shame  and  reproaches  be, 
All  hail,  reproach,  and  welcome,  shame. 
If  thou  rememhcr  me. 


THE    PENITENT    THIEF.  837 

"  When  iu  the  solemn  hour  of  death 
I  hail  the  j  ast  decree, 
Saviour,  with  my  last  parting  breath 
I'll  cry,  Remember  me." 

II.     The  Saviour's  grace. 

What  reception  did  tliis  prayer  obtain  ?  Jesus  had  been  silent  when 
the  thief  and  his  companion  had  reviled  Him — will  He  be  silent  now 
when  by  that  same  reviler  His  favor  is  sought  ?  No  !  at  once  the 
Saviour  turns  on  him  a  look  of  compassion;  at  once  He  sets  at  rest  his 
anxious  heart ;  at  once  lie  assures  Him  of  more  than  the  answer  to  his 
petition:  "Verily  I  say  unto  thee,  To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in 
paradise." 

The  salvation  of  this  penitent  thief  was  the  only  drop  of  sweetness 
in  the  Saviour's  bitter  cup.  If  there  is  "joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels 
of  God  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,"  much  more  is  there  joy  in  the 
Lord  of  angels.  The  good  Shepherd,  who  came  to  seek  and  to  save  the 
lost,  carries  home  with  rejoicing  the  recovered  wanderer.  Even  now 
He  "  saw  of  the  travail  of  His  soul,  and  was  satisfied."  This  conversion 
proved  the  efficacy  of  the  cross,  the  power  of  the  spirit,  the  ability  of 
Jesus,  even  when  dying,  to  confer  life.  This  was  a  pledge  of  mercy  to 
all  penitents,  a  sample  of  the  love  of  Jesus  to  every  sinner  who  comes 
to  Him,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour.  This  was  the  last  and  the  best 
solace  of  His  human  life.  These  were  the  first  friaits  of  His  perfected 
redemption.  One  of  the  brightest  of  His  many  crowns  was  being 
placed  on  His  head  at  the  moment  when  He  seemed  most  vanquished. 

Angels  appeared  in  the  wilderness  to  strengthen  Him  alter  His 
temptation,  and  in  Gethsemane  to  sustain  Him  in  His  great  agony  j 
and  the  dying  thief  rendered  to  Him  a  still  more  refreshing  ministry  in 
the  hour  of  His  death.  Moses  and  Elias  had  cheered  Him  in  the  pros- 
pect of  suffering  when  on  the  mount  they  spoke  of  the  decease  He 
should  accomi)lish  at  Jerusalem  ;  and  the  dying  thief  cheered  Him 
in  the  very  hour  of  that  decease  by  an  evidence  that  He  did  not  die 
in  vain.  Had  the  twelve  legions  of  heavenly  warriors,  of  whom  He 
spoke,  suddenly  surrounded  Calvary  with  their  bright  array,  they 
could  not  have  imparted  such  consolation  as  when  this  dying  thief 
illustrated  the  saving  power  of  the  cross  by  penitential  prayer,  and 
when  the  gracious  reply  was  given,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  thee.  To-day 
shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  paradise." 

iilessed  words  !  As  long  as  time  endures,  they  shall  forbid  despair 
to  any  who  are  lost  to  the  cross,  and  with  their  heavenly  music  shall 
thi-ill  the  heart  when  the  way  is  roughest,  and  the  night  is  darkest,  and 
the  burden  is  heaviest.  "  Verily  I  say  unto  thee.  To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with  me  in  paradise." 

There  is    power   in  every  word.     "Verily."     Amen.     Assuredly. 


838  NEWMAN    HALL. 

The  tliief  bad  asked  with  timidity  ;  Jcsi;s  replied  "with  certainty. 
Thy  repentance  is  uccepteel — verily  !  Thy  faith  is  not  in  vain  reposed 
on  me — eerily!  Thy  prayer  shall  he  answered — verily!  My  ahility 
to  save  implied  in  thy  prayer  and  trusted  in  is  real — verily  ! 

"  I  say."  A  king,  disguised  as  a  beggar  and  mingling  with  the 
crowd,  is  recognized  by  one  of  his  subjects  and  addressed  by  his  royal 
title.  lie  acknowledges  the  title;  be  answers  and  says — "I."  So 
Jesus  admitted  that  He  Avas  what  the  thief  had  said, — Lord  and  King, 
— and,  therefore,  able  to  help  him ;   able,  therefore,  to  help  thee  ! 

"  I  say  unto  thee."  There  is  a  voice  from  the  cross,  a  voice  .from 
the  throne,  to  every  sinner.  Though  this  man  had  been  a  robber  and 
a  reviler,  yet  Jesus  addressed  him,  "  I  say  unto  thee."  And  so  there 
is  not  a  penitent  sinner  in  this  assembly  whom  Jesus  does  not  notice 
individually,  whom  Jesus  does  not  address  with  personal  condescen- 
sion and  favor — "  Verily  I  say  unto  tliee  !  " 

Let  us  now  contemplate  the  nature  of  the  promise  of  Jesus.  It 
related  to  place,  to  company,  and  to  time. 

1.  The  promise  of  Jesus  referred  to  place.  The  dying  thief  was 
to  be  "  in  paradise." 

A  paradise  was  the  garden  of  a  palace  in  Eastern  lands.  It  sug- 
gested the  ideas  of  safety,  plenty,  beauty,  and  enjoyment. 

The  garden  of  Eden  was  a  paradise  to  our  first  parents ;  anel  this 
term  is  employed  to  represent  the  home  of  the  saints  in  the  unseen 
world.  St.  Paul  says  that  he  was  "  caught  up  into  paradise,  and  heard 
unspeakable  words,"  And  in  the  Revelation  we  read  of  "  the  tree  of 
life  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God." 

No  sword  of  the  cherubim  forbids  approach  to  it.  All  are  wel- 
come to  repose  under  the  shadow  of  it,  and  to  eat  the  fruits  of  it. 
There  flows  the  river  of  life,  issuing  from  the  throne  of  God.  No  ser- 
pent lurks  amidst  the  grass ;  no  thorn  is  concealed  beneath  the  rose ; 
no  bitter  frost  nips  the  buds;  no  sudden  storm  uproots  the  plants;  no 
darkening  mist  or  black  thunder-cloud  obscures  the  landscape.  The 
inhabitant  no  more  says,  I  am  sick.  They  hunger  no  more,  neither 
thirst  any  more.  They  rest  from  their  labors.  All  tears  are  wipeel 
away.  And  Jesus  said  to  the  dying  thief,  "Thou  shalt  be  in  pai^a- 
dise."  Though  a  great  sinner,  though  an  object  of  deserved  disgrace, 
though  suftering  death  as  the  penalty  of  crime,  "thou  shalt  be  in 
paradise." 

Even  so  Jesus  addresses  every  penitent  sinner.  "  Thou  shalt  be  in 
paradise  !  "  What,  though  I  have  all  ray  life  long  robbed  God  of  that 
revei-ence,  and  obedience,  and  love  which  are  His  due  ?  Yes,  "  thou 
shalt  be  in  paradise  !  "  What,  though  my  sins  have  been  specially 
aggravated  ;  though  I  have  persisted  in  wickedness,  in  opposition  to 
conscience,  and  the  worel  of  God,  anel  the  warnings  of  Provielence  ; 


THE    PENITENT    THIEF.  So9 

aiul  though  very  little  of  life  may  be  left  in  which  to  prove  the  sincer- 
ity of  my  repentance  ?  Yes,  "  thou  shalt  be  in  paradise."  It  is  won- 
derful, but  true.  "We,  each  one  of  us,  if  humbly  and  penitently  tnist- 
ing  in  Jesus  for  salvation,  hoAvever  poor  and  despised  we  may  be,  how- 
ever guilty  and  depraved  we  may  have  been,  we  also  shall  some  day 
be  in  paradise!  How  this  hope  should  cheer,  and  strengthen,  aii<l 
purify  us  admidst  the  sorrows  and  temptations  of  the  present  life  I  O 
that,  when  disposed  to  murmur  because  of  trial,  or  to  yield  to  sinful 
allurement,  we  might  by  faith  recognize  the  voice  of  Jesus,  saying, 
"  Thou  shalt  be  in  paradise  ! " 

2.  The  promise  of  Jesus  related  also  to  companionsh'q).  "  Thou 
shalt  be  vith  »/c," 

Doubts  may  arise  in  the  mind  respecting  the  separate  state  of  the 
dead,  and  the  locality  and  nature  of"  paradise."'  Wliere  is  it  ?  What 
is  tlie  condition  of  its  inhabitants?  What  are  their  pursuits  and 
pleasures?  It  is  conceivable  that  one  set  of  very  learned  theologians 
might  write  a  large  number  of  great  volumes  to  prove  that  ]>aradise 
meant  one  thing,  and  that  another  set  of  theologians,  equally  learned, 
might  wi'ite  another  set  of  volumes,  equally  large,  to  prove  that  para- 
dise meant  quite  another  thing.  As  if  to  settle  all  doubts  in  the  mind 
of  the  dying  thief,  our  Lord  said,  "Thou  shalt  be  v;lth  nie^  If  witli 
Jesus,  he  might  be  sure  that  all  would  be  well.  He  might  be  content 
to  be  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  paradise,  if  he  knew  he  was.  to  be  in  the 
company  of  his  Lord  and  Saviour. 

It  is  a  glorious  fact  that  when  saints  die  they  at  once  enter  the 
presence  of  Jesus.  He  said,  "  Where  I  ain,  there  shall  also  my  ser- 
vants be  ;  "  "I  go  to  prepare  a  i)lace  for  you  ;  and  when  I  come  again, 
I  will  receive  you  to  myself,  that  Avliere  I  am,  tliere  ye  may  be  also." 
"Father,  I  will  that  they  also  whom  Thou  hast  given  me  be  with  me 
where  I  am."  Stephen,  at  the  point  of  death,  exclaimed,  "  Lord  Jesus, 
receive  my  spirit."  And  St.  Paul  said  that  he  was  willing  to  be 
"  absent  from  the  body,"  that  he  might  be  "  present  with  the  Lord  ;  " 
saying  that  "to  depart  and  be  with  Jesus  is  far  better." 

This  ])romise  of  being  with  Jesus  comprehends  all  that  a\  e  can 
desire.  It  includes  perfect  pardon;  for  would  Jesus  welcome  to 
His  presence  in  glory  any  whose  dress  was  soiled  with  sin  ?  Xo  ; 
every  stain  has  been  washed  away,  and  the  robes  are  while  as  snow 
in  the  case  of  all  those  wlio  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  lieavenly 
King. 

The  promise  includes  perfect  sanctification  as  M'ell  as  perfect  justi- 
fication. For  would  Jesus  invite  to  His  immediate  presence  any  who 
would  be  reluctant  to  obey  any  command  He  might  issue  ?  Would 
Pie  be  served  witli  even  a  hesitating  step?  iNIay  we  not  be  sure  that 
all  they  who  have  this  high  honor  are  those  who  are  perfectly  delivered 


S40  NEWMAN    HALL. 

from  all  pride  and  selfishness,  perfectly  filled  with  divine  love,  perfect- 
ly fitted  to  every  good  work? 

The  promise  includes  perfect  blessedness.  When  the  royal  stand- 
ard of  a  monarch  is  seen  floating  over  any  dwelling  as  a  signal  that  he 
is  there,  we  know  that  whatever  can  contrihute  to  safety  and  enjoy- 
ment will  be  found  there.  If  danger  or  want  threaten  elsewhere,  the 
king's  palace  will  be  secure.  So  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord  of  the 
universe  we  may  be  sure  that  there  can  be  no  peril,  no  want,  no  suffer- 
ing. "  In  Thy  presence  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  Thy  right  hand  there 
arc  pleasures  forevermore." 

The  dying  thief,  on  hearing  of  paradise,  might  shrink  from  meet- 
ing with  the  illustrious  saints  who  dwell  there.  "Am  I  to  be  in  para- 
dise ?  Shall  I  see  there  Abel  and  the  martyrs,  Abraham  and  the 
patriarchs,  Moses  and  the  projihets  ?  Shall  I  meet  with  the  great  and 
the  good  who  in  all  ages  have  loved  and  served  God  against  whom  I 
have  been  rebelling  all  my  life  ?  May  they  not  be  ashamed  of  me  ? 
Shall  I  not  be  ashamed  of  myself?  Will  they  not  ask,  'Who  is  this 
entering  paradise  ?  Is  it  not  that  abandoned  robber  who  was  cruci- 
fied for  his  crimes  ?  Is  it  not  he  who  on  the  cross  reviled  our  King  ? 
Is  it  not  he  who  never  began  to  repent  and  pray  till  he  was  ceasing  to 
live  ?  '  And  though  they  may  not  say  this  in  my  hearing,  shall  I  not 
feel  that  it  would  be  suitable  to  say  ?  and  shall  I  not  shrink  back  from 
a  society  which  might  well  regard  me  Avith  suspicion  and  with  scorn  ?  " 
As  if  to  prevent  such  surmises,  Jesus  said,  "  Thou  shalt  be  with  ?y<e." 

I  well  remember  my  sainted  father,  the  author  of  the  tract  "  The 
Sinner's  Friend,"  and  now  for  several  years  in  paradise  himself,  relat- 
ing an  anecdote  of  a  British  soldier  with  whom  he  was  personally  ac- 
quainted. Promotion  unhappily  is,  in  the  old  country,  obtained  by 
purchase,  rather  than  merit ;  and  very  seldom  can  a  private  soldier 
ever  hope  to  become  an  officer.  But  this  man,  for  his  good  behavior 
and  long  services,  received  a  commission  from  the  royal  duke,  w^ho 
was  then  commander-in-chief.  He,  however,  felt  himself  in  uncom- 
fortable circumstances,  for  he  thought  he  was  scorned  by  his  fellow- 
officers,  in  consequence  of  his  humble  origin.  Let  us  hope  this  Avas 
mere  fancy.  I  have  generally  found  that  military  men,  and  British 
officers  certainly  not  excluded,  are  thorough  gentlemen.  But  to  regard 
Avith  scorn  a  person  who  has  risen  from  a  loAver  position  by  A'irtue  of 
his  own  exertions  and  character,  and  Avho  for  this  reason  is  deserving 
of  far  more  honor  than  those  who  have  obtained  rank  from  the  mere 
accident  of  birth,  this  is  conduct  of  Avhich  no  true  gentleman  or  lady 
can  be  guilty.  The  only  Avord  I  know  to  designate  such  persons  is 
vulgar  as  themselves — they  are  "  snobs."  We  AA'ill  hope,  then,  that 
the  man  in  question  Avas  mistaken.  But  nevertheless,  he  felt  so  un- 
comfortable in  his  new  position,  that  he  respectfully  requested  to  be 


THE    PENITENT    THIEF.  841 

restored  to  liis  former  couditiou.  The  commaiider-iii-cliief,  guessing 
what  was  the  cause,  ordered  a  grand  parade  of  the  garrison,  and  as  he 
jiassed  along  the  front,  addressed  this  man,  saying,  "  Ca})tain.  let  me 
have  the  pleasure  of  your  arm."  And  so  he  walked  with  him  up  and 
down.  After  this,  all  kinds  of  polite  attentions  poured  in  \\\)on  him 
from  his  fellow-officers.  The  prince  had  said,  "  Thou  shalt  be  with  nic." 
And  so,  to  compare  with  such  trivial  occurrences  amongst  poor 
fellow-mortals,  the  great  and  glorious  acts  of  the  King  of  kings,  Jesus 
said  to  the  djdng  thief,  in  order  to  remove  from  his  mind  all  fear  that 
he  would  not  be  welcomed  with  honor  and  joy  by  the  inhabitants  of 
paradise,  "  Thou  shalt  be  loith  in^." 

"  Come  in,  thou  blessed  ;  sit  tcitJi  me  ; 
With  my  awn  life  I  ransomed  thee  ; 

Come,  taste  my  perfect  favor ! 
Come  in,  thou  ransomed  spirit,  come  ; 
Thou  now  must  dwell  with  me  at  home  ; 
Ye  blissful  mansions,  make  him  room. 

For  he  must  stay  forever. 

"  When  Jesus  thus  invites  me  in. 
How  will  the  heavenly  hosts  begin 

To  own  their  new  relation  ! 
Come  in  !  come  in  !  the  blissful  sound 
From  every  voice  will  echo  round. 
Till  all  the  crystal  walls  resound 

With  joy  for  my  salvation." 

The  dyin  ■•  thief  had  found  a  friend.  He  had  never  known  a  true 
friend  befoi-e.  Companions  in  wickedness  are  not  fi'ie?ul^.  What  joy- 
did  this  new  acquisition  give  him  !  Is  he  to  be  so  soon  separated  from 
the  only  friend  he  had  ever  known  ?  No !  "  Thou  shalt  be  icith  me. 
And  we  have  found  a  Friend — the  "  sinner's  Friend,"  indeed ;  a  Friend 
who  "sticketh  closer  than  a  brother."  And  we  shall  never  be  sep- 
arated. As  a  little  child  clings  with  confidence  to  its  mother's  breast^ 
happy  and  safe  while  there,  so  we  shall  be  happy  and  safe  for  ever  in 
our  Saviour's  presence.  Do  we  dread  entering  alone  that  dark  valley 
of  death  ?  .'  esus  says,  "  Thou  shalt  be  ioit/i  7we,"  Do  we  shrink  from 
a  new  world  of  strangers  ?  "  Thou  shalt  be  tcith  me."  Do  we  expect 
to  be  overawed  by  tlie  splendors  of  paradise  ?  "  Thou  shalt  be  icit/i 
me.''''  Do  our  hearts  fail  us  at  the  tliought  that  we  shall  be  unfitted 
for  tlie  society  and  employments  of  heaven  ?  "  Thou  shalt  be  %cith 
me.''''  All  doubts  are  quelled,  all  desires  are  satisned,  by  this  assur- 
ance, "Thou  shalt  be  vnth  me."" 

"  Forever  with  the  Lord  ! 
Amen,  so  let  it  be  ! 
Life  from  the  dead  is  iu  that  word ; 
'Tis  immortality." 


842  ■  NEWMAN    HALL. 

III.  The  pronuse  of  Jesus  related  to  time.  "  To-day  slialt  tliou  be 
with  me  in  i)avn(lise." 

,  IIow  couteinptible  is  the  device  of  some  who  have  sought  to  evade 
the  obvious  lessons  taught  in  this  word  by  representing  that  Jesus 
meant,  "I,  to-day,  say  unto  thee,  that  thou  shalt  be  in  paradise  !  "  as 
if  Jesus  could  have  said  it  yesterday,  or  the  day  after  !  The  meaning- 
is  obvious.  That  very  day  the  penitent  thief  was  to  be  in  paradise 
with  Jesus. 

1.  This  proves  the  continued  conscious  existence  of  believers  after 
death.  If  the  penitent  thief  had  fallen  into  a  slumber  when  the  breath 
left  his  body, — a  slumber  not  to  be  broken  for  eighteen  hundred  years 
at  least, — would  it  not  have  been  to  mislead  both  him  and  us  to  as- 
sure him  that  on  that  very  day  he  was  to  be  in  paradise  with  Jesus  ? 

2.  The  full  absolution  of  those  who  die  trusting  in  Jesus  is  also 
illustrated  by  this  promise. 

The  Romanists  say  that  while  unbelievers  and  heretics  are  doomed 
to  hell,  true  Christians  cannot  at  once  enter  into  paradise,  but  must 
first  be  purified  from  their  sins  in  the  fires  of  purgatory.  I  remember, 
when  I  was  in  Rome,  seeing,  in  the  church  of  St.  Croce,  an  altar,  on 
which  was  insci-ibed  an  indulgence  granted  by  a  certain  Pope  of 
"thirty  thousand  years"  to  any  one  attending  mass  thei'e  on  the  sec- 
ond Sunday  in  Advent  !  And  I  thought  that  if  so  slight  an  act  could 
be  so  eiFectual  as  so  long  a  period  of  ^jurifying,  how  vast  must  be  the 
remaining  period  of  purgatory,  if  purgatory  be  indeed  required  to 
purge  away  the  faults  of  the  present  life ! 

If  any  one  ever  needed  purgatory,  it  was  the  penitent  thief.  He 
had  lived  a  long  life  of  crime.  He  was  now  dying,  and  had  only  just 
begun  to  repent.  He  had  no  opportunity  of  doing  good  works,  or 
making  any  compensation  to  those  he  had  wronged.  He  had  not  been 
baptized.  He  had  not  celebrated  any  sacrament.  Surely,  he  needed 
purification  in  the  next  world,  if  any  one  ever  did  who  believed  in 
Jesus.  Yet  he  Avas  that  very  day  to  be  in  the  presence  of  Jesus  !  If, 
the  penitent  thief  went  direct  to  paradise,  every  other  sinner  may 
then  hope  to  do  so,  who  truly  repents  and  seeks  salvation  from  Christ. 
"  The  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  us  from  all  sin." 

But  it  may  be  said,  "  Is  it  just  that  a  man  should  live  a  wicked  life, 
and  then  go  to  paradise,  merely  because  he  believes  ?  "  This  would 
indeed  be  a  difticulty  hard  to  explain  but  for  the  great  doctrine  of 
atonement.  "Jesus  died  for  our  sins."  He  sufiered  in  the  place  of 
the' sinner.  By  his  obedience  the  law  is  honored  ;  through  his  sufier- 
ings  we  escape  the  penalty.     "'By  his  stripes  we  are  healed." 

It  may  also  be  asked  Avhether  there  is  a  moral  fitness  in  the  imme- 
diate entrance  of  a  newly -converted  sinner  into  paradise  !  Should 
there  not  be  some  delay,  some  intermediate  period  between  a  life  of 


THE    PENITENT    THIEF.  843 

sin  and  such  manifestations  of  tlie  divine  favor  ?  In  reply  to  tliis,  let 
us  suppose  you  have  a  ship  about  to  sail  with  a  valuable  cai-go  for  a 
distant  port ;  but  the  tide  must  be  favorable  before  that  sliip  can  start. 
Hour  after  hour  passes,  and  then  at  length  you  see  by  the  change  iu 
current,  and  the  swinging  round  of  the  ships  at  anchor,  that  the  tide 
has  turned.  Now,  then,  you  at  once  weigh  anchor  and  sail !  What 
Avould  you  say  if  some  one  objected  and  said,  "No;  wait!  the  tide 
has  only  just  turned  !  "  So,  when  the  tide  of  a  sinner's  aifections, 
which  was  flowing  downwards,  begins  to  flow  upwards,  the  sinner  is 
at  once  on  his  way  to  paradise  ;  the  change  is  complete;  the  tide  is  as 
fair  now  as  it  ever  will  be;  why  then  wait  ?  That  vessel  is  on  its  Avay 
to  glory  ?  Suppose  you  were  rejoicing  in  the  birth  of  a  son  to  inherit 
your  name  and  fortune,  and  some  one  were  to  say,  "  Wait !  he  is  only- 
just  born  ;  do  not  yet  regard  him  as  your  son."  W'ould  you  not  scorn 
such  an  objection?  That  infant  may  be  very  young,  only  a  few  min- 
utes old  ;  but  he  is  as  much  your  sou  as  if  he  had  been  born  yeai-s 
ago.  And  so,  when  a  sinner  repents  and  believes  in  Jesus,  he  is  a 
child  of  God  ;  and  as  such  God,  loves  him,  embraces  him,  provides  an 
inheritance  for  him,  and  if  death  should  carry  him  hence,  takes  him  at 
once  to  paradise.  And  therefore  it  is  reasonable  and  fitting  that 
full,  immediate  salvation  be  oflered  to  every  sinner  who  trusts  in 
Jesus  ;  and  therefore  the  dying  may  be  assured  that  on  that  very  day, 
however  recent  their  conversion,  they  shall  be  in  paradise  with  Jesus. 

2.  We  are  taught  the  immediate  blessedness  of  those  who  die  in 
the  Lord.  Whatever  may  intervene  between  death  and  resurrection, 
paradise  and  the  presence  of  Jesus  are  enjoyed  immediately  the  spirit 
leaves  the  body. 

In  the  morning  the  thief  was  writhing  on  the  cross;  in  the  evening 
he  was  exulting  in  glory  !  IIow  close  to  each  other  are  pardon  and 
paradise,  the  cross  and  tlie  crown,  the  battle  and  the  prize,  the  wilder- 
ness and  Canaan,  the  darkest  midnight  and  the  morning  dawn.  Calvary 
and  lieaven  ! 

We  have  ministered  to  dying  friends,  and  perhaps  did  not  at  the 
time  reflect  that  they  Avere  on  the  threshold  of  paradise.  AVe  watcJied 
them  day  by  day  as  strength  gradually  failed.  At  length  the  eye  no 
longer  responded  to  our  look  of  love,  the  hand  no  longer  returned  our 
grasp.  That  friend  had  entered  paradise.  We  gazed  for  the  last  time 
on  the  dear  form  of  the  departed,  and  kissed  the  marble  brow ;  but  he 
was  in  paradise.  We  followed  the  coflin  to  the  grave,  and  looked 
down  into  the  dark,  damp  hole  where  it  was  soon  covered  up;  but  he 
was  in  i)aradise.  Years  have  passed  since  then,  and  the  place  that 
once  knew  him  knows  him  no  more;  but  he  is  in  }):iradise,  grown 
familiar  now  with  its  scenes,  and  society,  and  joys. 

And  we  ourselves  are  very  near  to  paradise.     Some  day  the  words 


84-4  NEWMAN    HALL. 

of  our  text  will  be  literally  verified  in  the  case  of  each  one  of  us.  A 
day  is  coming  which  we  shall  commence  in  this  Avorld  and  close  in  the 
next.  Certainly  on  some  day,  possibly  on  any  day,  the  word  may  be 
true  of  us — "  This  day  thou  shalt  be  in  paradise."  How  this  thought 
should  cheer  and  stimulate  !  Let  us  not  say,  with  aAvful  tones,  "  There 
is  but  a  step  between  me  and  death."  Let  us  rather  say,  with  joyful 
exultation,  "  There  is  but  a  step  between  me  and  paradise^  How 
steadfast  ought  I  to  be  in  resisting  temptation  !  Shall  I  be  allured  by 
the  devil's  trumpery  gewgaws,  when  I  may  this  day  be  in  paradise  ? 
And  shall  I  be  impatient  and  murmur  on  account  of  the  trials  and 
difficulties  of  my  pilgrimage,  when  I  may  be  so  near  the  end  of  it  ? 
Shall  I  grow  weary  and  faint,  and  shall  I  complain,  when  at  this  very 
moment  angels  may  be  weaving  my  crown  and  tuning  my  harp,  when 
departed  friends  may  be  clustering  around  heaven's  gateway  to  bid  me 
welcome,  and  Jesus  may  be  about  to  say,  "  To-day  thou  shalt  be  with 
me  in  paradise"  ? 

"  Cease,  ye  pilgrims,  cease  to  mourn  ; 

Press  onward  to  the  prize  ; 
Soon  your  Saviour  sliall  return 

Triumpliant  in  the  skies, 
Yet  a  season,  and  ye  know 

Happy  entrance  shall  be  given, 
All  your  sorrows  left  below. 

And  earth  exchanged  for  lieaven." 

What  an  encouragement  to  pray  !  The  thief  had  spoken  trem- 
blingly ;  Jesus  replied,  "  Verily."  He  had  asked  to  be  simply  remem- 
bered ;  Jesus  said,  "  Thou  shalt  be  with  vieP  He  had  looked  forward 
to  some  distant  day — "  when  thou  comest  ;  "  Jesus  said,  "  To-day." 
So  let  us  pray,  believing  that  beyond  our  jDrayers  and  beyond  our 
hopes  He  will  bless  us  ;  for  He  is  "  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly 
above  all  that  we  can  ask  or  think." 

In  conclusion,  let  us  gaze  for  a  moment  on  these  three  crosses. 
They  are  representative  of  humanity.  First,  there  is  the  cross  of  th& 
only  sinless  Man.  "  He  was  numbered  with  the  transgressors,"  that 
He  might  save  them  from  transgression  and  its  penalty.  He  is  mighty 
in  defeat.  On  the  cross  He  exercises  kingly  power  ancrbestows  kingly 
grace.  There  He  wins  the  first  trophy  of  His  perfected  sacrifice. 
What  an  innumerable  multitude  of  the  saved  are  to  follow  in  the  steps 
of  that  penitent  thief,  asci'ibing  to  Jesus  all  the  glory  of  their  salva- 
tion !  This  middle  cross  explains  the  mystery  of  that  other  one.  The 
guilty  culprit  lived,  because  the  perfect  Substitute  died.  The  cross 
of  Jesus  is  the  promise  and  pledge  of  eternal  life  to  all  who  believe. 

Look  again  at  the  cross  of  the  penitent.     This  is  the  emblem  of  all 


THE    PEXITE  XT    THIEF.  Sio 

those  of  mankind  who  turn  from  sin  and  trust  the  Saviour.  From  Ilis 
cross  the  ■words  are  sounded  forth,  ''This  is  a  faithful  raying,  aiid 
worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to 
save  sinners  of  whom  I  am  chief."  Let  every  guilty  soul  be  encour- 
aged to  seek  forgiveness.  It  is  not  yet  too  late.  You  have  not  sin- 
ned heyond  the  reach  of  mercy.  He  who  saved  the  dying  thief  will 
save  you. 

And  noAV  glance  at  the  remaining  cross.  It  represents  impenitent 
sinners.  If  the  other  is  full  of  encouragement,  this  is  full  of  warning. 
If  that  teaclies  that  it  is  never  too  late  to  repent,  this  teaches  it  is 
never  too  soon.  If  that  tells  of  the  readiness  of  Christ  to  save,  this 
tells  that  it  is  possible  to  be  lost  even  in  the  presence  of  Christ,  and 
while  witnessing  His  sufferings.  The  impenitent  thief  was  close  to 
Jesus,  watched  with  his  own  eyes  His  sublime  patience  under  terrible 
sufferings,  heard  Him  pray  for  His  murderers,  witnessed  the  lejent- 
ance  of  his  companion  in  crime,  and  yet  remained  impenitent,  and 
died  unsaved.  And  so  it  may  be  with  some  of  you.  Before  you  Christ 
may  be  set  forth  by  faithful  preaching,  crucified  as  it  were  before  your 
eyes,  and  crucified  for  you.  And  yet  you  may  harden  your  heart 
against  His  love.  Those  who  sit  with  you  in  the  same  church,  and 
even  in  the  same  pew,  may  repent  and  pray,  and  be  saved,  while  you 
may  only  aggravate  your  guilt  and  ruin  by  continued  neglect  of  the 
great  salvation.  O  beware,  le^t  the  fate  of  the  impenitent  thief 
should  be  your  OAvn  ! 

Do  not  plead  the  salvation  of  the  penitent  thief  as  an  excuse  for 
the  delay  of  conversion.  It  may  be  that  no  sooner  had  he  a  clear 
knowledge  of  Christ  than  he  believed  ;  whereas  you  have  long  known 
the  gospel,  and  yet  have  rejected  it.  Do  not  put  off  repentance,  as 
though  it  were  a  slight  change,  an  easy  work  for  a  time  of  sickness, 
or  the  last  hours  of  life.  We  have  seen  how  great  a  work  was  wrought 
in  the  heart  of  the  penitent,  thief.  Is  it  wise,  is  it  safe,  is  it  right  to 
postpone  so  great  a  work  one  day  ? 

Do  not  say  that,  like  the  thief,  you  will  repent  at  the  eleventh  hour. 
Death  often  gives  no  notice  of  his  approach,  so  that  you  may  not 
know  when  the  eleventh  hour  has  come.  Or  you  may  be  distracted 
with  pain,  oi-  incapacitated  for  all  exertion  by  the  torpor  of  fatal  dis- 
ease. Or  your  heart,  long  hardening,  may  refuse  to  melt  at  your 
summons.  God  can  do  all  things.  Nothing  is  impossible  with  Him. 
But  it  is  to  be  expected,  and  it  generally  happens,  that  those  who 
during  life  deliberately  reject  the  gospel  and  resolve  to  become  reli- 
gious only  when  no  longer  capable  of  enjoying  wickedness,  become 
hardened  in  unbelief,  and  die  as  impenitent  as  they  lived.  O  !  then, 
beware  of  delaying  repentance.  Delay  increases  the  difficulty.  You 
are  in  prison,  but  the  door  will  yield  if  you  push  it.     You  are  exhorted 


846  NEWMAN    HALL. 

to  escape,  but  you  say,  "  To-morrow."  Meanwhile  your  enemy  has 
placed  a  heavy  stone  against  it.  Still  you  say  it  will  be  easier  to- 
morrow, and  still  each  day  finds  that  dungeon  door  more  firmly  shut 
than  ever.  You  are  fastened  by  a  chain,  but  you  may  snap  it  asunder 
if  you  try.  You  say,  "Let  me  wait ;  ,1  shall  break  it  more  easily  to- 
morrow." But  your  cruel  tyrant  comes  meanwhile,  and  rivets  that 
chain  faster  than  before.  O,  do  not  trifle  with  salvation  ;  do  not  put 
off  repentance.  It  has  been  said  that  one  such  instance  as  the  salva- 
tion of  the  dying  thief  has  been  recorded,  that  none  might  despair — 
only  one  that  none  might  presume.  Do  not  abuse  the  grace  of  God 
by  making  it  an  excuse  for  the  neglect  of  grace.  It  is  never  a  moment 
too  soon  to  seek  God,  when  God  invites  you  to  draw  near.  "  To-day, 
if  ye  will  hear  his  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts."  "  Behold,  now  is 
the  accepted  time  ;  behold,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation." 


DISCOURSE  LXI. 

HENRY    WARD    BEECHER. 

Henry  Wakd  Beeciter  was  born  a.t  Litchfield,  Connecticut,  in  1813,  and 
graduated  at  Amherst  College  in  1834.  He  studied  Theology  under  his  father, 
Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  at  Lane  Seminary,  and  was  settled  as  Presbyterian  minister  at 
Lawrenceburg,  Indiana,  in  1837.  He  removed  to  Iiadianapolis  in  1839,  where  he 
preached  until  1847,  whence  he  was  called  to  pastorate  of  Plymouth  Church, 
Brooklyn,  New  York,  which  he  has  since  held. 

Mr.  Beecher's  fame  as  a  preacher  is  world-wide ;  and  it  is  not  undeserved. 
With  a  remarkable  vigor,  elasticity,  and  freshness  of  health  and  animal  vitality, 
with  a  sympathy  as  broad  as  the  universe,  an  acute  observation  of  men  and  things, 
a  wonderful  imagination,  a  ready  wit,  an  unfailing  fund  of  humor,  a  marvellous 
vocabular}',  an  affluence  of  genius,  and  all  accompanied  with  a  genuine  common 
sense,  he  presses  everything  into  his  service  in  unfoldingand  illustrating  the  thought 
in  hand,  and  sways  the  influence  of  perhaps  the  greatest  pulpit  orator  of  the  age, 

Mr.  Beecher  presents  a  somewhat  striking  physiognomy.  The  nose  is  a  doric 
column  full  of  strength,  simplicity,  majesty.  The  mouth  is  sensuous  and  firm, 
and  carries  in  repose  the  set  which  one  sees  in  the  portraits  of  Washington.  The 
forehead  has  no  "  bumps,"  it  is  full,  round,  and  flowing.  All  the  lines  of  Beecher's 
face  flow  into  one  another  ;  there  are  no  breaks.  All  the  traits  of  the  man  seem 
to  flow  into  one  another.  Every  faculty  and  feeling  is  driven  of  the  masterful 
will,  a  will  powerful  enough  to  rule  any  state  or  direct  any  army. 

Mr.  Beecher's  sermons  are  delivered  extempore  ;  yet  they  often  bear  the  marks 
of  severe  study.  The  heads,  and  many  of  the  best  sentences,  are  genei-ally  written 
down.  He  does  not  present  truth  swathed  in  formulas,  nor  interwoven  with  techni- 
calities, but  in  the  garb  of  every-day  life.  His  utterances  are  word-pictures,  charm- 
ing the  listener  with  the  evident  reality  which  the  picture  reveals. 

For  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  Mr.  Beecher  has  preached  to  the  same 
congregation  ;  and  the  fact  that  it  continues  to  be  the  largest  in  America  is  proof 
sufficient  of  rare  talent.  His  sermons  are  printed  by  thousands,  and  his  "  Yale 
Lectures  "  have  been  received  with  great  favor.  The  subject  of  the  sermon  here 
given  is  one  to  which  the  heart  of  the  preacher  naturally  warms,  and  the  produc- 
tion ia  every  way  worthy  of  the  preacher's  fame, 
54 


848  HENRY    WARD    BEECHER. 


THE    NATURE    OF    CHRIST. 

"  Wherefore  in  all  things  it  behooved  him  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren, 
that  he  might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high-priest  in  things  pertaining  to  God, 
to  make  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of  the  people.  For  in  that  he  himself  hath  suf- 
fered, being  tempted,  he  is  able  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted." — Heb.  iv.  17, 18. 

"  Let  us  therefore  come  boldly  unto  the  throne  of  grace,  that  we  obtain  mercy, 
and  find  grace  to  help  in  time  of  need." — IIkb.  iv.  16. 

From  the  time  that  theology  received  from  the  Greek  mind  a  philo- 
sophic and  systematic  form,  there  lias  been,  as  compared  with  the 
sacred  Scriptures,  a  total  change  of  the  point  of  view  in  which  Christ 
is  presented,  if  not  universally,  yet  to  a  very  great  extent.  The  whole 
force  of  controversy  has  been  to  fix  the  place,  the  title,  and  the  nature 
of  Christ. 

This  is  a  dynastic  idea.  I  do  not  say  that  it  ought  not  to  be  sought 
out  in  any  degree  ;  but  I  do  say  that  it  is  not  in  accordance  with  the 
structure  and  comprehensive  aim  of  the  New  Testament ;  and  it  is 
not  using  the  facts  or  revelations  of  the  New  Testament  as  they  were 
originally  used,  and  as  they  were  designed  to  be  used.  It  is  some- 
thing outside  of  the  purposes  of  those  facts  or  revelations. 

The  genius  of  the  New  Testament  is  to  j^resent,  in  Jesus,  the  most 
attractive  and  winning  view  of  God,  to  inspire  men  with  a  deep  sense 
of  the  divine  sympathy  and  helpfulness  ;  and  to  draw  men  to  Christ  as 
the  One  Avho  can  meet  all  their  wants  while  living,  when  dying,  and 
in  the  great  life  beyond.  Over  these  three  great  circuits  which  the 
imagination  makes — life,  death,  and  eternity — Christ  is  represented  as 
having  dominion ;  and  he  is  presented  to  men  in  such  aspects  as  tend, 
according  to  the  laws  of  the  human  soul,  to  draw  them  toward  him  in 
confidence,  in  love,  and  in  an  obedience  which  works  by  love.  It  is, 
therefore,  as  Teacher,  and  Guide  and  Brother,  and  Saviour ;  it  is  as 
Shepherd,  and  Physician,  and  Deliverer;  it  is  as  a  Mediator,  a  Fore- 
runner, and  a  Solicitor  in  court,  that  he  is  familiarly  represented. 
He  is  sometinaes,  also — though  seldom  in  comparison  with  other  rep- 
resentations— represented  as  a  Judge  or  a  Vindicator.  The  force  of 
the  representations  of  the  gospels,  and  of  the  laws  which  have  sprung 
from  the  gospels,  is  to  present  Christ  as  so  seeking  the  highest  ends 
of  human  life,  and  so  aiming  at  the  noblest  developments  of  character 
in  men,  that  every  man  who  feels  degraded,  bound,  overcome  by  evil, 
shall  also  feel,  "Here  is  my  Succor  ;  here  is  my  remedy  for  that  which 
is  wrong ;  here  is  my  Guide  toward  that  which  is  right ;  here  is  my 
Help  in  those'great  emergencies  for  which  human  strength  is  vain." 
Living  or  dying,  we  are  the  Lord's — this  is  the  spirit  that  was  meant 
to  be  inculcated. 


THE    NATURE    OF    CHRIST.  S49 

Christ  came,  he  said  himself,  not  to  coiitleinn  the  workl,  but  that 
the  ^voiitl  tlirough  him  might  have  life. 

"  The  Son  of  Man  is  not  come  to  destroy  men's  lives,  but  to  save  tliem. " 

If,  then,  we  take  our  stand  at  the  point  of  vieAV  through  which  the 
Scriptures  were  developed,  we  shall  remove,  I  think,  many  of  the  diffi- 
culties which  embarrass  the  minds  of  men,  and  which  prevent  their 
making  a  personal  and  saving  use  of  Jesus  Christ  as  he  is  presented 
in  the  Scriptures. 

First,  identification  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  the  human  race 
has  been  a  fertile  theme  of  comment,  of  criticism  and  of  skepticism. 
Many  have  objected  to  it  as  unworthy  any  true  conception  of  the 
divine  nature. 

Now,  it  was  not  the  purpose  of  the  New  Testament  to  undertake 
to  show  us  the  whole  nature  of  God,  and  to  give  us  the  elements  by 
wliich  we  could  judge  abstractly  as  to  what  was  and  what  was  not  fitting. 
We  are  limited  in  our  judgment  of  the  divine  nature  by  the  elements 
of  our  own  being;  for  that  which  is  not  in  some  sense  represented  in  us 
we  can  have  no  conception  of.  The  immutable  principles  of  truth, 
of  honor,  of  justice,  of  love,  and  of  mei-cy,  inhuman  nature,  furnish  us 
the  materials  by  which  we  are  enabled  to  judge  of  the  divine  nature. 
Is  it  not,  then,  worthy  of  our  conception  of  God,  that  he  should  seek 
to  win  the  race  to  confidence  in  him?  and  is  there  a  better  way  for 
him  to  do  it  than  by  the  identifying  of  himself  with  the  race  ? 

Wlien  Christ  wished  to  do  his  kindest  works  he  did  not  stand  afar 
off,  saying,  "  Be  this  done,  and  be  that  done."  He  took  the  blind  man 
by  the  hand,  and  led  him  out  of  the  town,  and  healed  him.  He  drew 
near  to  those  whom  he  wished  to  bless,  and  touched  them.  He  laid 
his  hands  upon  them.  And  that  which  fell  out  in  the  individual 
instances  of  Christ's  life  was  the  thing  which  was  done  in  regard  to  the 
whole  scheme  of  Christ's  appearing.  If  God  spake  to  men  not  from 
afar  oft' by  the  word  of  mouth,  or  intermediately  througli  great  natural 
laws  ;  if  he  sent  his  Son  into  the  world  to  bring  men,  in  their  condi- 
tions, and  according  to  their  language,  according  to  their  modes  of 
understanding,  to  a  true  notion  of  what  the  divine  disposition  and 
purpose  were,  was  not  that  the  best  way  in  which  to  win  their  confi- 
dence ?  If  this  is  so,  then  there  cannot  be  a  method  conceived  of  by 
whicli  the  human  race  can  be  more  won  to  confidence  than  by  the 
incarnation  of  Jesus  Christ. 

If  you  look,  in  the  light  of  an  abstract  divine  propriety,  at  the 
whole  history  which  is  given  in  the  gospels  of  the  incarnation  ef  Christ, 
you  will  reach  one  sort  of  result  ;  but  if  you  look  at  it  from  the  side 
of  the  luiman  mind  and  of  human  want,  which  is  the  side  that  is  pre- 


850  HENRY    WARD    BEE  CHER. 

scntecl  in  the  New  Testament,  another  and  an  entirely  different  view 
will  be  arrived  at.  We  are  not  put  into  possession  of  those  materials 
by  which  God,  standing  in  the  midst  of  his  moral  government,  univer- 
sal and  all-glorious,  can  be  inspected  by  us,  except  in  one  particular — 
namely,  in  regard  to  what  will  do  good  to  a  race  that  is  so  low  as 
this  is  and  has  been.  Looked  at  from  that  point  of  view,  would  it  not 
be  divine  beneficence,  would  it  not  stimulate  human  emotion,  would  it 
not  tend  to  draw  men  toward  God,  if  he  should  conduct  his  mission 
and  ministry  upon  earth  so  that  men  would  feel  that  they  could  ii^ter- 
pret  his  nature  by  the  experience  of  their  own  ?  Would  not  that  have 
the  effect  to  win  men  back  to  him  ? 

■Let  me  illustrate  in  another  way.  What  is  that  which  is  most 
becoming  in  woman — Avhat,  but  that  she  should  dwell  with  her  kindred? 
What,  but  that  she  should  separate  herself  fi-om  that  which  is  rude  and 
coarse  ?  What,  but  that  all  those  sweeter  virtues  which  refinement 
breeds  should  blossom  from  her  perpetually  ?  We  think  of  her  as  the 
child  in  the  cradle  ;  as  the  daughter  at  home  ;  as  the  maiden  sought  or 
won  ;  as  the  young  bride;  and  as  the  matron.  All  these  elements  enter 
into  our  conception  of  the  dignity  and  beauty  o-f  woman.  If,  therefore, 
you  were  to  ask.  What  is  her  sphere  ?  and  what  are  her  functions  ? 
every  one  instinctively  would  say  that  her  sphere  and  her  functions 
were  those  of  moral  elevation,  of  refinement,  and  of  intellectual  culture. 
Every  one  would  say  that  she  was  born  to  make  home  bright  and 
beautiful.  And  yet,  when  that  great  concussion  came  that  seemed 
likely  to  rend  the  continent  fi-om  East  and  West ;  when  a  million  men 
in  the  North  were  tramping  southward,  and  a  million  men  in  the 
South  were  tramping  northward,  and  all  was  rude  warfare  ;  when  men 
were  gathered  from  every  side  of  humanity,  good  and  bad,  mingled 
and  fighting  together  under  the  flag,  where  on  earth  could  you  have 
found  more  dirt,  more  blood,  more  confusion,  or  more  rudeness  than 
in  the  hospitals  outlying  the  edges  of  the  battle-fields  ?  And  yet, 
woman  walked  there — an  angel  of  light  and  mercy.  Many  and  many 
a  poor  soldier,  the  child  of  Christian  parents,  dying,  was  led  by 
woman's  ministration,  under  those  adverse  circumstances,  from  the  very 
borders  of  hell  to  the  vei'y  heights  of  faith  and  hope  and  belief  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  There,  in  the  place  most  milikely,  in  the  last  place 
you  would  have  spoken  of  as  the  true  sphere  of  woman — there  woman 
reaped  a  glory  that  shall  never  die  so  long  as  there  are  annals  of  this 
land.  And  so  long  as  there  ai'e  annals  of  our  dear  old  fatherland, 
Florence  Nightingale's  name  will  be  remembered.  There  will  never 
be  any  who  will  forget  that  it  was  in  circumstances  of  humiliation,  and 
rudeness,  and  confusion,  circumstances  Avhere  there  was  everything 
which  was  most  repellent  to  taste  and  refinement,  that  she  stood  to 
relieve  suffering. 


THE    NATURE    OF    CHRIST.  851 

Now,  when  you  think  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  if,  with  the  Greeks, 
you  pl'oject  some  great  crystal  scheme  of  government,  and  conceive 
of  him  as  administering  it  ;  if  you  form,  in  the  stithy  of  your  imagina- 
tion, an  ideal  of  a  perfect  God,  ruling  over  men,  and  bring  that  ideal 
into  this  Avorld,  do  you  noi  leave  God  at  an  inaccessible  height  above 
the  heart  of  man  ?  But  if  you  say,  "  He  was  born  of  woman,  he  grew 
from  childhood  to  manhood,  and  at  thirty  years  of  age  he  became  a 
teacher,"  will  not  that,  I  ask,  be  the  best  thing  that  you  could  do,  in 
case  the  object  of  this  revelation  is  to  win  men  ?  If  the  design  is  to 
inspire  •  the  human  race  with  confidence  and  sympathy  toward  their 
Maker  and  their  Judge,  will  not  this  be  the  very  thing  above  all  others 
that  will  do  it  ?  Bring  the  divine  nature  from  the  vast  cloudy  sphere 
beyond  into  this  world,  transmute  it  into  the  conditions  in  which  we 
live,  and  which  limit  our  understanding,  and  conceive  of  Jehovah  as 
Immanuel,  God  with  16S,  and  you  do  that  which  is  better  calculated 
than  anything  else  to  present  the  conception  of  God  so  that  men's 
hearts  shall  take  hold  of  him.  For  that  which  we  need,  after  all,  is  a 
tendril  which  shall  unite  us  to  God.  Our  God  must  not  be  to  us  as  a 
storm  nor  a  fire,  if  we  are  to  cling  to  him.  The  storm  and  the  fire 
may  make  men  afraid  of  evil,  but  they  never  will  call  forth  men's 
love. 

You  might,  by  the  north  wind,  throw  the  convolviilus,  the  morn- 
ing-glory, the  queen  of  flowers,  prostrate  along  the  ground  ;  but  it  is 
only  when  the  Avarm  sun  gives  it  leave  that  it  twines  upward,  about 
that  which  is  to  support  it,  and  blesses  it  a  thousand  fold  by  its  efllor- 
escence  all  day  long.  The  terrors  of  the  Lord  may  dissuade  men  from 
evil ;  but  it  is  the  warm  shining  of  the  heart  of  God  that  brings  men 
toward  his  goodness  and  towai-d  him. 

Tliis  view  of  Christ  meets  both  theories  of  men's  origin.  If  men. 
ai'C  descended  from  a  higher  plane  by  the  fall  of  their  ancestors,  this 
view  of  God  seeking  their  recuperation  is  eminently  fitting  ;  or,  if 
men  are  a  race  emerging  from  a  lower  plane,  and  seeking  a  spiritual 
condition,  it  is  equally  fitting.  In  either  case,  what  they  want  is  a 
succoring  God  ;  and  such  was  Jesus  Christ  as  presented  to  the  world 
in  his  incarnation. 

Secondly,  it  gives  added  force  to  the  simple  narratiA'e  of  Christ's 
life  if  we  look  at  it  from  the  point  of  view  which  we  have  been  con- 
sidering—namely, Such  a  teaching  as  shall  lead  men  to  confidence  in 
and  communion  with  God.  If  you  ask  what  is  becoming  in  a  dramatic 
God,  or  in  an  ideal  Sovereign,  you  will  get  one  result,  and  it  will  be 
a  human  result.  If  you  ask  what  would  be  likely  to  inspire  the 
human  family  Avith  a  profound  sense  of  God's  sympathy  Avith  mankind, 
and  of  his  helpfulness  toward  them,  Avould  not  that  be  the  very  result 
of  the  presentation  of  Christ's  life  ?     Look  at  it  as  the  life  of  One  Avho 


852  HENRY    WARD    REECHER. 

came  to  win  men,  and  does  it  not  touch  tlie  universal  chords  of  sym- 
pathy? He  was  born  of  a  woman  ;  and  that  cloudy  wonder,  the  mys- 
tery of  the  mother-heart,  (which  no  poet  ever  described,  but  which 
was  known  to  Raphael,  half  woman  as  he  was,  and  which  was,  though 
imperfectly,  yet  marvellously,  expressed  in  .the  Sistine  Madonna)  that 
wonder  enveloped  him.  As  the  mother,  holding  her  child,  looks  with 
a  vague  reverence  upon  it,  so  our  Saviour  was  looked  upon  by  his 
mother  when  he  was  a  child  in  her  arms.  Therefore,  there  is  not  a 
child  on  the  globe  that  has  not  had  a  Forerunner. 

As  a  child,  Christ  grew  in  stature  and  in  knowledge.  And  that  is 
as  much  a  revelation  as  any  other.  Nor  does  it  detract  from  a  true 
and  proper  conception  of  divinity.  For  if  one  would  make  himself 
like  unto  his  brethren  he  should  begin  where  they  began,  and  in  every- 
thing but  sin  should  rise  with  them,  step  by  step,  all  the  Avay  up. 

Following  Christ  through  his  childhood,  we  find  that  he  was  sub- 
ject to  his  parents.  Unquestionably  he  participated  in  their  indus- 
tries, and  lived  a  working  man,  in  a  great  northern  province  crowded 
with  a  population  which  included  all  manner  of  foreign  elements, 
under  the  dominion  of  a  foreign  scepti-e.  There,  in  the  midst  of  the 
distresses  of  the  people — and  they  were  exceedingly  great — he  grew 
up  a  working  man  ;  and  there  is  nothing  in  the  history  or  experience 
of  the  great  mass  of  mankind  who  are  working  men  that  he  is  not 
fitted  to  sympathize  with. 

Has  not  this  already  touched  a  universal  chord  ?  Has  it  not  even 
made  skepticism  admire  it  ?  Men  who  i-cject  as  history  the  details  of 
the  life  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  men  wdio  set  aside  his  miracles  and 
many  of  his  words,  will  not  let  die  the  character  which  he  has  lived 
and  impressed  upon  the  world's  thought  and  the  world's  imagination. 

One  of  the  most  affecting  things  that  I  know  of  is  the  way  in  which 
men  deal  with  this  "  fiction,"  as  they  call  it.  They  take  the  life  of 
Christ,  and  say  that  it  is  mythical ;  oi",  they  say  that  it  is  the  life  of  an 
extraordinary  man,  of  a  genius,  but  not  of  a  divine  Being  ;  and  yet,  it 
is  a  life  that  believer  and  unbeliever  alike  will  not  let  die.  There  are 
all  sorts  of  men  in  the  various  schools,  who  ai'e  saying  of  the  nature 
and  character  which  are  attributed  to  Christ,  "  This  is  so  Avonderful 
a  nature  and  character  that  the  world  would  be  impoverished  if  we 
were  to  lose  it."  Such  impressions  have  been  produced  by  the  circxtm- 
stances  in  which  Christ  lived  among  men. 

Thirdly,  the  miracles  of  Christ,  looked  at  from  the  same  point  of 
view,  have  been  very  much  perverted  by  discussions,  and  by  not  being 
looked  at  along  the  line  in  which  they  were  meant  to  play.  They  were 
simply  charities.  They  were,  to  be  sure,  alleged  to  have  a  certain 
influence  among  an  abject  and  superstitious-minded  people,  but  Christ 
himself  undervalued  them  as  moral  evidence.     They  were  alternative, 


THE    NATURE    OF    CHRIST.  853 

as  evidence.  "  If  you  Avill  not  believe  me  for  my  own  sake,"  he  says, 
"  believe  me  for  my  works'  sake."  He  held  that  the  radiant  presentation 
of  a  divine  nature  ought  to  carry  its  own  evidence  ;  that  when  he  ap- 
peared in  speech,  in  conduct,  in  affluent  affection,  he  was  himself  his 
own  best  evidence  ;  and  yet,  if  they,  by  reason  of  obtuseness,  could  not 
believe  in  hiiu  otherwise,  he  called  upon  them  to  believe  in  him  for 
the  sake  of  his  miracles.  That  would  be  better  than  nothing.  But  he 
discouraged  and  dissuaded  men  from  seeking  after  miracles  or  signs. 
The  miracles  of  Christ  were,  almost  all  of  them,  mere  acts  of  benev- 
olence. He  was  poor  ;  he  had  neither  money  nor  raiment  to  give ; 
and  yet  there  was  suffering  around  about  him,  and  he  relieved  it.  The 
miracles  of  Christ  were  never  wrought  in  an  ostentatious  way.  Xever 
were  they  wrought  for  the  purpose  of  exalting  himself.  They  were  not 
employed  where  arguments  failed,  to  carry  men  away  by  super- 
stitious enthusiasm,  Multitudes  resorted  to  him  for  help — the  sick, 
the  blind,  the  deaf,  lepers,  all  kinds  of  unfortunate  people  ;  and  mira- 
cles were  his  means  of  bestowing  charity  upon  them.  No  hospital  had 
he  to  which  he  could  send  them  ;  he  was  his  own  hospital.  No  retinue 
or  army  had  he  to  send  out  among  the  masses  of  the  Palestinian 
land.  His  own  hand  and  voice  Avere  his  universal  instruments  of  mercy. 
His  miracles  were  his  general  acts  of  kindness.  As  laid  down  in  the 
gospel  they  represent  the  heart  of  God,  And  what  an  error  is  often 
committed  in  regard  to  the  beneficent  deeds  of  the  Redeemer  and 
Saviour  of  the  world,  as  to  the  purposes  for  w^hich  they  were  performed  ! 
They  were  never  performed  for  his  own  sake.  If  there  are  apparent 
exceptions,  there  are  no  real  ones.  For  instance,  at  the  baptism  of 
Christ,  the  sound  of  a  voice  and  the  descent  of  a  dove  were  not  his  own 
miracles.  They  were  imposed  upon  him.  And  the  greatest  of  all 
wonders  which  wei'e  wrought,  in  its  dramatic  beauty — the  Transfigura- 
tion— was  as  much  a  miracle  of  mercy  as  the  miracle  of  the  loaves  and 
fishes.  The  disciples  had  lately  been  driven  out  of  Galilee,  and  they 
had  come  to  Jerusalem,  and  her  faith  needed  resuscitation — as  also  did 
his  own,  since  he  was  in  the  form  of  man,  not  only,  but  had  the  experi- 
ence of  a  man  ;  and  as  they  stood  upon  the  Mount,  he  was,  as  it  were, 
lifted  up  before  them.  He  seemed  to  them  to  be  in  the  midst  of  a 
luminous  atmosphere ;  and  heavenly  visitants  were  communing  with 
him.  Thus  they  were  strengthened  and  prepared  for  a  remote  period 
when  he  should  be  crucified  and  buried  out  of  their  sight.  It  was 
intended  that  there  should  be  a  witchery  and  magic  connected  with  this 
event  which  should  hold  them  to  their  faith  in  spite  of  the  lack  of  out- 
Avard  evidence.  The  ministration  thus  to  the  higher  spiritual  nature 
of  these  disciples  was  as  bread  and  wine  to  the  lower  bodily  wants  of 
men. 

Now,  if  you  adopt  the  pliilosophical  view,  and  discuss  the  peculiar- 


854  HENRY    WARD    BEECHER. 

ities  of  Christ's  miracles  purely  from  the  standpoint  of  nature,  you 
will  reach  certain  results ;  but  if  you  suppose  that  they  will  be  the 
results  contemplated  by  the  New  Testament,  you  are  mistaken. 

For  instance,  I  reach  forth  for  my  hand  and  draw  a  drowning  man 
out  of  the  water.  Some  one,  hearing  of  it,  and  wishing  to  give  a 
philosophical  explanation  of  the  act,  takes  a  hand,  and  dissects  it,  and 
paints  it.  First,  he  paints  the  whole  hand  ;  then  underneath  he  paints 
each  linger  separately  ;  then  below  he  paints  all  the  muscles  ;  and  then 
he  writes  a  little  treatise  on  the  structure  and  adaptation  of  the  hand  ; 
and  then  he  says,  "  There  is  my  interpretation  of  that  act."  But  it  is 
not  a  dissected  hand  that  the  man  thinks  of,  whom  I  seized  at  the  risk 
of  my  life  and  rescued  from  the  boiling  flood.  It  does  not  occur  to 
him  that  the  hand  that  saved  him  was  composed  of  bone,  or  muscle,  or 
skin,  or  anything  else.  It  was  what  was  done  by  the  hand  that  inter- 
preted itself  to  him,  and  that  was  the  all-important  thing. 

Miracles  discussed  philosoi^hically  are  out  of  the  sphere  of  Christian 
experience.  What  we  want  to  know,  along  the  line  of  Christ's  mirac- 
ulous deeds,  is,  that  they  all  aimed  at  one  thing — namely,  the  opening 
of  a  more  bountiful  conception  of  divine  sympathy  than  could  have 
been  developed  under  any  other  circumstances.  Viewed  in  that  light 
they  are  a  potential  evidence,  not  so  much  of  the  power  to  which  they 
have  almost  always  been  referred,  but  of  the  inner  heart  of  Jesus  ^ 
they  are  a  powerful  development  of  the  divine  bounty  and  sympathy 
and  kindness  ;  and  who  has  the  heart  to  dispute  them  on  that  line? 

Looked  at,  also,  from  the  same  point  of  view, — namely,  that  of  the 
relations  of  Christ  to  the  world  for  the  sake  of  developing  in  men  con- 
fidence in  God  and  sympathy  with  him — I  remark  that  the  Saviour's 
suifering  and  death  will  receive  new  light.  Everything  becomes 
involved  and  difficult  and  inoperative  the  moment  you  discuss  the  history 
of  Christ  from  the  material  and  dynastic  sides.  Why  did  Christ  suffer  ? 
If  you  say,  in  reply,  "  That  he  might  redeem  men  from  sin,"  you  have 
said  the  whole  ;  and  just  so  soon  as  you  begin  to  go  back  and  ask, 
"  How  did  his  suffering  redeem  men  from  death  ?  "  you  are  wandering 
right  away  from  the  heart  of  Christ  to  the  cold  Greek  philosophical 
view  of  him. 

If  you  bring  to  me  the  tidings  that  my  mother  is  dead  she  who  bore 
me,  and  hovered  over  all  my  infant  days,  and  tenderly  loved  me  to  the 
last,  you  open  the  floodgates  of  sympathy  in  my  soul.  But  suppose  a 
physician  comes  to  me  and  sits  down  by  my  side,  and  says,  "  You  under- 
stand, my  young  friend,  that  there  are,  in  the  human  frame  a  variety 
of  systems — the  vascular  system,  the  bony  system,  the  muscular  system, 
the  nervous  system  ;  you  understand  that  there  are  vital  organs — the 
stomach,  the  liver,  tlie  heart,  the  brain  :  now,  if  you  will  listen,  I  will 
explain  to  you,  in  a  philosophical  manner,  the  causes  of  your  mother's 


THE    NATURE    OF    C  II  lU  S  T  .  S55 

death.  I  will  show  you  the  way  in  which  tlio  blood  ceased  to  circulate 
in  her  veins."  He  wants  to  read  me  an  anatomical  lecture  on  the 
nature  of  the  reasons  of  ray  mother's  death  !  If  I  have  wandered  away 
from  home  and  friends,  and  my  mother  is  dead,  and  you  come  to  break 
the  intelligence  to  me,  I  think  you  will  leave  out  of  your  message  every- 
thing except  the  aimouncement  of  her  death  and  her  last  words.  You 
will  say,  if  such  be  the  fact,  "  She  prayed  for  you,  and  she  died  exclaim- 
ing. "  My  son  !  O  my  son  !  "  And  there  is  not  a  human  heart  that 
Avoiild  not  feel  the  power  of  a  simple  statement  like  this. 

Tell  me  that  he  who  is  to  be  my  Judge  bowed  his  head  and 
came  into  my  condition  ;  tell  me  that  he  was  not  ashamed  to  call  men 
his  brethren  ;  tell  me  that,  being  in  the  form  of  God,  and  thinicing  it 
not  robbery  to  be  equal  Avith  God,  he  made  himself  of  no  reputation, 
and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant,  that  he  might  minister  to 
men  ;  tell  me  that  he  was  tried  and  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we 
are,  and  yet  without  sin,  that  he  might  know  how  to  succor  those  who 
were  in  trial  and  temptation  ;  tell  me  that  he  died  that  his  death  might 
be  a  memorial  of  grace  to  men,  and  that  he  might  expound  to  human 
understandings  the  nature  of  God — tell  me  these  things,  and  I  am 
satisfied.  "  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down 
his  life  for  his  friends," — tell  me  what  that  means.  It  is  declared  that 
Christ  gave  his  life  for  the  world  ;  what  is  the  meaning  of  that  ? 
Away  with  your  barbaric  notions  !  Away  with  the  idea  of  marshalled 
forces!  Away  with  the  thought  of  imperial  coercions!  That  wl.ich 
I  derive  from  the  fragrance  and  sweetness  of  that  magnificent  sacrifice 
which  was  made  in  Christ's  death  is  sufficient  for  me.  All  that  I  want 
to  know  is  that  the  heart  of  God  is  a  heart  that  yearns  for  men — that 
it  is  a  paternal  heart  by  which  the  universe  is  to  be  lifted  up  and  saved. 
I  do  not  stop  to  ask  what  is  the  relation  of  the  suffering  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  to  divine  law  ;  neither  do  I  stop  to  ask  what  its  relation 
is  to  the  moral  government  of  the  universe  ;  nor  do  I  stop  to  ask  what 
is  its  relation  to  the  teaching  of  the  Old  Testament.  All  these  things 
may  have  their  proper  place  in  an  outside  work  ;  but  to  discuss  them 
and  make  them  a  part  of  Gospel  truths  is  to  go  not  only  out  of,  but 
against,  the  example  and  spirit  of  the  New  Testament ;  for  that  whicli 
the  sufferings  and  death  of  Christ  mean  to  you  and  to  me  is  that  God 
80  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son  to  die  for  it,  and 
that  in  this  sacrifice  we  have  the  manifestation,  not  only  of  the  power, 
but  of  the  disposition  of  God  to  save  us  from  animalism,  from  degra- 
dation, from  guilt,  and  from  sin  that  breeds  guilt,  and  to  bring  us  into 
a  knowledge  of  the  spiritual  life,  and  make  us  sons  of  God. 

Therefore,  was  there  ever  such  a  perversion  as  that  by  Mhich 
theology  has  blunted  the  sensibilities  and  frozen  the  instincts  of  men, 
and  presented  to  them  a  sort  of  Greek  philosophy  of  the  atonement  of 


S56  HENRY    WARD    BEECHER. 

Christ  Jesus — by  which  that  sort  of  mechanical  balancing  of  forces 
■\vliich  men  liave  called  atonement,  atonement^  atonement,  has  been 
nrged  upon  men — when  that  which  the  human  heart  wanted  and  Christ 
and  the  New  Testament  gave  was  not  a  substantive  noun,  meaning 
some  arrangement  or  plan,  but  the  truth  of  a  living,  personal  Saviour? 
I  can  say  of  these  scholastic  discussions,  "  They  have  taken  away  my 
Lord,  and  I  know  not  where  they  have  laid  him."  But  yes,  I  do  know 
where  they  have  laid  him  :  they  have  laid  him  under  the  dry  bones  of 
philosophy.  They  have  covered  him  up  with  slavish  systems  which 
impose  upon  men  the  performance  of  certain  duties,  the  observance  of 
given  forms  and  ceremonies,  and  obedience  to  certain  rules,  as  the 
conditions  of  their  salvation.  Acts,  acts,  acts,  have  been  prescribed 
for  men,  when  all  that  they  wanted  to  know  was  that  there  was  a 
stream  flowing  out  from  under  the  throne  of  God,  and  for  ever  carry- 
ing to  men  life-giving  influences.  This  stream,  sent  foi-th  out  of  the 
centre  of  God's  throne,  is  the  impulse  of  the  centuries.  It  is  tlie  wis- 
dom of  God  and  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  man  that 
believes. 

So  accepted,  the  sufterings  of  Christ,  his  death,  his  resuri-ection 
and  glory,  are  powers ;  but  the  moment  you  turn  them  into  a  philoso- 
phy they  are  dead  and  dry,  and  they  crackle  under  the  pot  of  discus- 
sion until  all  its  contents  are  evaporated  and  gone. 

I  remark,  once  more,  that  the  views  of  Christ's  resurrection,  his 
ascension,  his  glorification,  and  his  reigning  state  in  heaven,  as  they 
are  presented  in  the  Scriptures,  are  exceedingly  comforting,  and  exert 
an  amazing  influence;  but  when  they  are  presented  by  close  analysis, 
by  a  philosophical  statement,  they  lose  all  their  power,  and  shake  down 
upon  us  no  fruit  whatever. 

Christ  is  our  Forerunner;  this  we  can  form  some  conception  of. 
He  is  the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept;  this,  while  it  brings  no  special 
idea  to  us,  to  the  Jew  brought  most  joyous  associations.  He  is  our 
Mediator;  he  is  our  Intercessor: — we  instinctively  feel  the  force  of  the 
helpfulness  of  these  figures. 

Now,  you  will  spoil  it  all  if  yoii  go  into  a  complete  analysis,  and 
specify  everything  that  you  can  imagine  of  a  forerunner,  and  tell  what 
he  does  do  and  what  he  does  not  do;  if  you  undertake  to  draw  an 
exact  parallel  between  the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept  and  the  first- 
fruits  of  the  harvests  of  the  Jews;  if  you  undertake  to  dissect  and 
regulate  the  ofiices  of  a  mediator  between  God  and  man,  or  a  mediator 
of  the  new  covenant ;  if  you  undertake  to  describe  the  functions  of  an 
intercessor.  All  the  aroma  will  evaporate  if  you  go  thus  into  detail. 
No  :  if  you  tell  me  that  Christ  died  for  men,  and  that  he  now  lives  in 
heaven  for  them  ;  that  he  is  their  Intercessor  near  to  God,  the  Source 
of  all  power;    that  he  thinks  of  them    and   governs   them;    that  he  is 


THE    NATURE    OF    CHRIST.  S57 

bringing  many  sons  and  daughters  home  to  glory ;  that  he  is  our 
Forerunner  in  the  world  beyond ;  that  he  is  our  Solicitor  in  court — if 
you  tell  me  these  things,  I  am  comforted  ;  but  the  more  you  undertake 
to  refine  tliese  metaphors,  and  reduce  them  to  exactitude,  the  more 
you  take  away  tlie  comfort  which  might  be  derived  from  them.  Let 
them  stand  in  their  simplicity,  if  you  would  have  them  powerful  in 
their  influence  upon  the  imagination,  the  heart,  and  the  life. 

If  you  take  a  cluster  of  flowers  just  as  they  are,  with  the  dew  upon 
them,  how  exquisite  they  are  !  but  you  tai-nish  them  by  just  so  much 
as  you  meddle  with  them.  Every  one  who  dissects  a  flower  must  make 
lip  his  mind  to  lose  it. 

That  sweetest  flower  of  heaven,  from  which  exhales  perfume  forever 
and  forever ;  that  dearest  and  noblest  conception  that  the  human 
imagination  ever  gathered  out  of  father  and  mother,  out  of  leader  and 
benefactor,  out  of  shepherd  and  protector,  out  of  companion  and  brother 
and  friend  ;  all  that  ever  was  gracious  in  government — tliese  various 
elements,  rising  together,  are  an  interpretation,  in  a  kind  of  large  and 
vague  way,  to  the  imagination,  and  through  the  imagination  to  the 
heart,  that  there  is,  at  the  centre  of  universal  authority  toward  which 
we  are  going,  One  who  cares  for  us ;  One  who  bears  our  burdens  ;  One 
who  guides  our  career  ;  One  who  hears  our  cry  ;  and  One,  though  he 
does  not  interpret  himself  to  us,  who  will  at  last  make  it  plain  that  all 
things  have  worked  together  for  the  good  of  those  that  have  trusted 
in  him. 

Now,  a  man,  as  a  philosopher,  may  preach  Christ  from  beginning 
to  end,  and  yet  his  people  may  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of 
Christ ;  but  that  is  not  the  general  result  of  such  preaching.  The  way 
is  to  preach  Christ,  and  to  aim  at  preaching  Christ,  so  that  the  souls 
of  the  people  shall  be  built  up  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and  it  is. 
exactly  in  this  way  that  I  have  desired  to  preach  Christ  among  you. 

Oh,  my  brethren,  we  are  not  far  from  the  end  of  our  journey.  It 
matters  very  little  what  this  world  and  time  have  for  us.  The  other 
world  is  near  to  us,  and  it  matters  everything  how  we  shall  land 
there.  We  have  our  burdens,  our  crosses,  our  poignant  sorrows,  sick- 
ness and  death,  embarrassments,  bankruptcy,  trials,  and  if  not  outward 
scourgings  yet  inward  scourgings.  We  are  not  exempt  from  the  great 
lot  of  mankind  ;  and  we  go  crying  often  Avith  prone  heads.  We  are 
like  bulrushes  before  the  wind,  bowed  down  to  the  very  earth.  And 
is  it  a  comfort  for  you  to  know  that  there  is  a  God  who  thinks  of  you  ? 
to  know  that  there  is  One  who  is  crying  out  in  the  silence,  if  you  could 
only  by  your  spiritual  hearing  listen,  saying,  "  Come  boldly  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  and  obtain  mercy  and  help  in  time  of  need  ?  " 

O  throne  of  iron,  from  which  have  been  launched  terrible  lightnings 
and  thuiulers  that  have  daunted  men  !     O  throne  of  crystal,  that  has 


858  HENRY    WARD    BEE  CHER. 

coldly  thrown  out  beams  upon  the  intellect  of  mankind  !  O  throne  of 
mystery,  around  about  which  have  been  clouds  and  darkness  ! — O  throne 
of  Grace,  where  He  sits  regnant  who  was  my  brother,  Avho  has  tasted 
of  ray  lot,  who  knows  my  trouble,  my  sorrow,  my  yearning  and  long- 
ino-  for  immortality!  O  Jesus,  crowned,  not  for  thine  own  glory,  but 
■with  power  of  love  for  the  emancipation  of  all  struggling  spirits  ! — 
thou  art  my  God — my  God  ! 

And  is  he  your  God  '?  Ah,  yes  !  I  beseech  of  everyone  who  has 
any  trouble,  everyone  who  needs  help,  to  try  the  help  of  God  given 
through  Jesus  in  faith  and  trust.  You  cannot  please  him  better. 
Come,  lay  down  your  anxiety  and  your  strivings  ;  lift  up  your  heart, 
and  believe  tliat  He  who  has  guided  his  people  like  a  flock  will  guide 
you,  and  perfect  you,  and  bring  you  home  to  immortality. 


DISCOURSE   LXIII. 

MATTHEW    SIMPSON,    D.D. 

Thh  subject  of  this  sketch,  and  author  of  the  sermon  following,  is  one  of  tho 
pillars  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  as  well  as  of  the  American  pulpii. 
He  was  born  in  Ohio,  June  twenty-first,  1810.  While  a  lad  he  discovered  marked 
intellectual  capacity,  and  before  eighteen  years  of  age  entered  Madison  College. 
Joining  the  Church  upon  profession  in  his  nineteenth  year,  he  became  a  class- 
leader  and  an  active  Christian  worker.  Owing  to  the  failure  of  health,  he  despaired 
of  being  able  to  preach,  and  fitted  himself  for  the  medical  profession,  beginning 
practice  in  1833.  But  God  meant  otherwise  ;  and  he  was  soon  a  circuit  preacher, 
then  a  Professor  of  Natural  Science  (in  Alleghany  College),  then  President  of  an 
University  (Asbury)  then  Editor  of  the  Western  Christian  Advocate,  and  finally  (in 
1852)  he  was  made  Bishop ;  an  office  which  he  fills  with  great  acceptance  and 
efiiciency,  being  at  once  a  successful  administrator  and  a  powerful  preacher. 

In  person  tall,  lithe  and  strenuous  ;  with  an  intellect  grasping  and  compre- 
hensive, yet  minute  in  its  dealing  with  particulars ;  ready  in  utterance,  yet  strik- 
ingly methodical,  exact,  and  suggestive  in  what  he  says,  Bishop  Simpson  is 
almost,  if  not  quite,  without  a  peer  in  the  Methodist  pulpit  as  a  commanding 
orator.  His  sermons  at  once  bristle  with  thought  and  win  by  metaphor,  anecdote, 
illustration,  while  they  carry  conviction,  from  the  obvious  sincerity,  earnestness 
and  unselfishness  of  "the  man.  His  style  is  simple,  artless  and  lucid  ;  his  gestures 
natural  and  forceful  rather  than  graceful,  and  his  voice  has  in  it  a  sort  of  con- 
tagion which  it  is  hard  to  resist.  Added  to  this  are  a  deep  religious  fervor,  and 
an  easy  flow  of  speech,  and  a  glow  of  feeling  which  passes,  by  unforced  transi- 
tions, into  the  tenderest  pathos,  and  takes  the  hearer  captive. 

The  sermon  which  we  give  offers  an  example  of  the  Bishop's  minute  induc- 
tions and  grand  generalizations,  and  is  regarded  as  one  of  the  best  which  has  been 
given  to  the  public  in  permanent  form.  It  appeared  originally  in  the  Methodist 
Episcopal  Pulpit. 


860  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 


INFLUENCE  OF  RIGHT  VIEWS  OF  GOD. 

"  And  he  said,  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory.  And  he  said,  I  will  make  all 
my  goodness  pass  before  thee,  and  I  will  proclaim  the  name  of  the  Lord  before 
thee;  and  will  be  gracious  to  whom  I  will  be  gracious,  and  will  show  mercy  on 
whom  I  will  show  mercy.  And  he  said.  Thou  canst  not  see  my  face ;  for  there 
shall  no  man  see  me  and  live." — Exodus  xxxiii.  18 — 20. 

Correct  views  of  the  divine  charactei;  lie  at  the  foundation  of  true 
religion.  We  may  not  indeed  understand  all  the  divine  attributes,  or 
even  know  their  number,  but  with  such  as  most  directly  influence 
human  character  and  conduct  we  may  become  acquainted  through  nature 
and  revelation.  Where  nations  have  acknowledged  "  lords  many  and 
gods  many,"  discord  and  war  have  been,  not'  mere  casualties,  but 
natural  and  almost  necessary  consequences  of  their  theology.  If  Mars 
and  Jupiter,  Juno  and  Minerva,  had  conflicting  interests  in  heaven, 
and  if  fierce  contests  raged  among  the  gods,  what  else  could  be 
expected  of  their  worshippers  on  earth  ?  As  there  were  "  gods  of  the 
bills  and  gods  of  the  valleys," — as  each  nation  traced  its  origin  through 
a  long  line  of  ancestry  to  some  one  of  the  contending  deities, — so  it 
might  be  expected  that  each  nation  should  be  jealous  for  the  honor 
and  glory  of  its  founder. 

The  unity  of  the  Deity  revealed  in  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  the 
common  origin  of  the  human  family  expressly  asserted,  sweep  away, 
at  once  and  for  ever,  the  greatest  justification  for  hostilities,  and  all 
pretence  for  tyranny  and  oppression.  •  We  have  but  one  God,  and  we 
are  all  brethren. 

The  attributes  with  which  the  divine  chai-acter  is  invested  have 
also  a  powerful  influence  on  the  mind.  If  to  the  Deity  is  ascribed,  as 
in  heathen  mythology,  the  possession  of  the  animal  propensities  and 
desires,  then  the  worship  will  be  conformable  to  such  desires,  and 
licentiousness  and  extravagance  of  every  description  will  be  mingled 
in  the  ceremonies.  The  rolling  wheel  shall  crush  its  victim,  the  fire 
consume  the  infant  offering,  or  purity  be  sacrificed  unblushingly  at 
the  altar  of  the  commanding  deity. 

Carrying  forward  the  same  train  of  thought,  we  shall  find  that 
even  under  the  full  light  of  the  system  of  Christianity,  the  peculiar 
aspect  in  which  the  divine  character  is  viewed  will  greatly  modify 
Christian  conduct  and  enjoyment.  Notwithstanding  all  read  the  same 
revelation,  and  ascribe  the  same  attributes  to  the  Deity,  yet  perhaps 
each  individual  fixes  in  a  difiercnt  degree  his  estimate  of  the  relation 
of  these  attributes  to  man  ;  and  possibly,  in  each  mind,  some  one  of 
the  divine  attributes  is  more  regarded,  or  at  least  more  constantly  a 
subject  of  thought,  than  any  other.     Thus,  upon  one  may  rest  a  sense  of 


INFLUENCE    OF    RIGHT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  861 

the  tcrri1)le  mnjcsty  of  God.  lie  may  seem  to  hear  liis  voice  as  wlien  "■ 
it  spake  in  such  awful  grandeur  from  the  top  of  Sinai.  On  another 
may  rest  a  sense  of  awe  and  veneration,  and  tlie  still  small  voice  seem 
ever  to  sound  in  his  ears,  "  Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God."  To  a 
third  is  presented  most  vividly  the  idea  of  holiness;  and  to  a  fourth, 
the  idea,  the  triumphant  thought,  is,  "  (:iod  is  love." 

Tliese  various  views  must  greatly  modify  our  mode  of  approach 
before  God.  He  whose  mind  is  filled  with  ideas  of  terrible  grandeur, 
and  stern  majesty,  to  whom  CA'ery  voice  seems  to  proclaim,  "  Our  God 
is  a  consuming  fire,"  must,  when  his  soul  is  penitent,  approach  even 
in  prayer  with  overwhelming  awe;  while  another,  who  regards  the 
Deity  as  an  affectionate  Father,  though  he  come  confounded  by  a 
sense  of  his  guilt,  and  melted  ut  the  thought  of  the  amazing  condescen- 
sion of  an  oflended  Euler,  yet,  viewing  the  extended  arms  of  mercy 
expanding  to  mdet  the  returning  prodigal,  even  dares  to  "  come  boldl)/ 
to  a  throne  of  grace." 

Many  of  the  young — and  for  them  our  remarks  are  made — are 
taught,  even  in  the  nursery,  to  clothe  the  Deity  with  attributes  of 
vengeance.  As  they  grow  older  the  idea  strengthens  in  their  mind — 
Religion  is  a  fearful  thought — moroseness  or  terror  becomes  most 
intimately  associated  with  their  notions  of  Christianity,  and  they  will 
not  think  of  God  because  the  idea  is  one  of  awful  dread.  And  perhaps 
few  passages  in  the  word  of  God  have  been  more  frequently  used  to 
strengthen  this  impression  upon  the  mind,  than  that  part  of  our  text, 
"  For  there  shall  no  man  see  me  and  live." 

Being  fully  persuaded  that  love  is  the  great  characteristic  of  the 
Deity,  as  revealed  through  Christ,  and  that  all  young  persons  ought 
so  to  be  taught,  we  propose  to  investigate — 

I.  What  Moses  desired  wlien  he  prayed,  "I  beseech  thee  show  me 
thy  glory." 

II.  How  far  this  desire  was  satisfied;  and, 

III.  Why  he  could  not  obtain  all  that  he  desired. 
I.  First,  then,  let  us  consider  the  desire  of  Moses. 

The  "  glory  of  God"  is  used  in  the  sacred  writings  in  several  dis- 
tinct meanings.  Sometimes  it  is  applied  to  an  exhibition  of  some 
grand  or  astonishing  appearances,  indicating  supernatural  poAver  and 
glory — sometimes  to  a  display  of  the  power,  wisdom,  and  benevolence, 
of  the  Deity,  in  his  -works — sometimes  to  his  dispensations  toward 
man,  as  seen  in  the  history  of  individuals — and  sometimes  to  his  pur- 
poses of  mercy  yet  to  be  revealed.  By  further  examination,  we  may 
see  to  which  one  of  these  the  desire  of  the  leader  of  Israel  was  directed. 

1,  Did  he  desire  to  behold  some  grand  and  glorious  manifestation 
of  the  Deity  ;  some  outward  form  or  shape  to  represent  the  great 
Jehovah  ?     Why  should  such  be  his  desire  ?    In  tlie  first  place,  he 


8G2  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

must  have  liad  correct  views  of  tlie  Deity — he  must  have  known  that 
"  God  is  a  spirit,"— that  "  no  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time" — that 
a  spiritual  being  cannot  be  materially  discerned  :  and  that  though  a 
glorious  light,  or  thick  clouds  and  sounds  of  power,  may  accompany 
his  revelations  to  man,  yet  that  light,  or  those  clouds  or  sounds, 
indicate  his  presence,  but  do  not  represent  his  form; — they  exhibit  his 
power,  not  his  person.  We  say,  Moses  must  have  known  all  this, 
because  he  was  tauglit  tlie  knowledge  of  the  true  God  from  his  childhood 
— tradition  from  Shem  to  Moses  passed  through  but  few  hands — and 
then  he  had  been  taught  of  God.  Forty  years  had  he  wandered  in 
solitude ;  a  shepherd's  life  gave  him  time  and  opportunity  for  divine 
communion — for  deep  and  holy  reflection.  When  thus  jirepared,  great 
revelations  had  been  given  to  him,  and  he  had  conversed  with  God  in 
the  hallowed  mount  for  forty  days — had  received  the  immutable  law 
for  the  human  family — and  consequently  must  have  known  much  of 
the  divine  character. 

Our  tendency  to  attach  form  to  the  Deity  arises  from  the  limited 
nature  of  our  faculties.  We  are  principally  influenced  by  external 
qualities;  we  judge  by  them;  and  though  we  know  a  spirit  has  not 
the  ordinary  qualities  of  matter,  yet  we  can  form  no  distinct  concej)- 
tion  without  associating  some  of  them.  When  we  think  of  an  angel, 
or  the  spirit  of  a  departed  one  whom  Ave  loved  on  earth,  though  we 
give  no  dcfiidte  form,  yet  there  is  a  something  which  flits  before  the 
mind.  It  may  be  a  small  bright  cloud,  so  greatly  attenuated  as  to  be 
scarcely  perceptible — a  thin  light  mist — a  floating  vapor — but  still 
there  is  form.  So  in  our  ordinary  conceptions  of  the  Deity,  though  we 
know  he  hath  not  body  and  parts,  yet  we  imagine  some  appearance. 
It  may  be  superlative  brightness  or  terrible  majesty ;  infinitely 
varied  may  be  our  conceptions  as  to  magnitude,  form,  and  locality; 
still  there  is  an  appearance.  And  this,  we  may  casually  remark,  has 
ever  been  a  fruitful  source  of  idolatry. 

As  these  views  arise  from  the  imperfection  of  our  faculties,  or 
from  our  want  of  knowledge,  we  cannot  properly  attribute  them  to 
one  so  advanced  as  Moses  in  knowledge,  both  human  and  divine. 
But,  in  the  second  place,  why  should  he  desire  to  behold  such  external 
displays  of  glory  and  power  ?  He  had  worshipped  at  the  burning  bush; 
had  been  made  the  messenger  of  God  to  announce  the  most  astonishing 
prodigies  to  the  Egyptians;  at  his  word,  the  Nile  had  flowed  in 
currents  of  blood  ;  darkness  had  in  its  most  fearful  form  brooded  over 
the  kingdom;  and  the  messenger  of  death  had  made  every  family  to 
send  forth  a  long,  loud,  piercing  wail  for  the  first-born.  The  sea  had 
divided  at  his  approach;  the  divine  presence,  as  a  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day,  and  of  fire  by  night,  had  been  his  guide  and  protection;  and, 
lastly,   he  had  stood    amidst    the    terrific   scenes   of  Sinai  until  he 


INFLUENCE    OF    RIGHT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  863 

exclaimed,  "  I  do  exceedingly  fear  and  quake."  "What  greater 
manifestations  could  could  he  wish  to  behold  ?  Surely  these  had  been 
enough,  more  than  enough,  to  satisfy  the  most  enlarged  desire. 

2.  May  he  have  used  the  expression  in  the  sense  of  the  Psalmist 
where  he  says,  "The  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God;"  desiring  to 
understand  more  of  creative  power  and  skill  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  he  earnestly  desired  to  know  all  that  could  be  known  in  reference 
to  the  great  w^ork  of  creation.  But  probably  he  had,  before  this  time 
received  by  revelation  the  history  of  the  world's  production.  He  had 
stood  as  on  some  distant  eminence,  and  beheld  when  "He  spake  and 
it  was  done;  he  commanded,  and  it  stood  fast."  He  had  seen  the 
earth  springing  into  existence,  robed  in  innocence  and  loveliness,  while 
"the  morning  stars  sang  together,  and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for 
joy."  And  having  received  such  views,  standing  thus  as  a  witness  to 
this  great  fact,  he  could  scarcely  have  asked  for  further  description. 

3.  Is  it  probable  that  he  desired  to  behold  the  glory  of  God,  aa 
manifested  in  his  past  government  of  the  world  ?  In  this  he  had  already 
been  instructed.  He  had  been  made  the  world's  sole  historian  for  near 
two  thousand  years.  Before  his  mind  had  passed  the  history  of  the 
race,  with  all  its  mutations; — its  creation  in  innocence  and  majesty; 
its  dreadful  fall;  ejection  from  Paradise ;  its  stains  of  sin  upon  the 
earth,  too  deep  to  be  effaced  even  by  the  rush  of  waters  in  the  mighty 
deluge.  Not  only  had  he  received  Abrahamic  traditions  and  all  that 
Egyptian  lore  could  furnish,  but  God  himself  had  been  his  great 
instructor,  to  show^  to  man,  through  him,  his  "glory,"  in  the  rise  and 
fall  of  empires,  the  elevation  or  degradation  of  the  race. 

4.  Since  then  his  prayer  could  not  refer  to  external  exhibitions  of 
the  glory  of  the  Deity,  or  to  his  creative  power,  or  past  government 
of  the  world,  it  only  remains  for  us  to  turn  toward  the  future.  And 
if  we  view  the  circumstances  surrounding  him,  we  shall  see  that  by 
his  prayer,  "I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory,"  he  desired  to  under- 
stand the  merciful  purposes  of  God  toward  the  Israelites,  and  through 
them  to  the  world.  He  anxiously  wished  to  understand  more  fully 
the  whole  plan  of  salvation,  and  to  see  the  things  that  should  happen 
in  the  "  latter  days." 

That  the  Almighty  had  great  designs  in  view  in  reference  to  the 
Israelites,  he  had  a  right  to  infer,  from  wdiat  had  already  been  done 
for  them.  As  when  an  architect  collects  in  one  place  a  vast  quantity 
of  materials,  we  have  a  right  to  expect  the  erection  of  some  magnificent 
edifice ;  so,  from  previous  and  vast  j^reparation  on  the  part  of  the 
Deity,  some  event  of  momentous  importance  might  be  inferred. 
Abraham  had  been  called  from  his  native  land  and  from  among  his 
kindred ;  had  travelled  over  Canaan  in  expectation  that  it  should  be 
his,  while  yet  owned  and  inhabited  by  powerful  nations;  his  sons  had 
55 


S(j4:  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

been  trained  under  peculiar  circumstances  ;  providentially  led  into 
Egypt  and  then  made  a  race  of  slaves,  oppressed  and  shamefully  treated; 
then  rescued  amidst  signs  and  wonders  "with  a  high  hand  and  an  out- 
stretched arm,"  while  the  sprinkled  blood  of  the  slaughtered  lamb 
prefigured  a  higher  and  holier  deliverance  of  humanity  from  a  still 
more  accursed  bondage.  What  connection  this  had  with  the  hope  of  a 
Messiah  who  should  wield  a  sceptre,  and  of  a  Prophet  who  should  teach 
his  people,  he  could  not  fully  see:  and  what  meant  all  this  vast  display 
in  the  wilderness;  this  heavenly  direction;  this  manna  from  on  high; 
the  tables  of  the  law  ;  the  tabernacle  with  its  symbols  and  ceremonies, 
he  could  not  fully  comprehend,  but  in  the  earnestness  of  his  soul,  he 
prayed,  "  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory." 

Again,  the  circumstances  through  which  he  had  just  passed  were 
of  a  most  singular  character.  He  had  been  upon  the  sacred  mount. 
1  Isarel  had  said,  "Let  not  God  speak  with  us;"  and  Moses  had  stood 
\as  their  representative  for  forty  days.  But  this  very  people  who  had 
heard  the  voice  of  God,  had  turned  to  idolatry  at  the  foot  of  the  mount. 
Their  .jewels  had  been  collected  and  formed  into  a  golden  calf — the 
god  of  the  Egyptians,  from  whose  service  they  had  been  delivered. 
"  They  had  sat  down  to  eat,  and  rose  up  to  play."  With  what  feelings 
must  the  man  of  God  have  turned  from  the  mount ;  from  converse  with 
the  Deity  !  But  as  he  descended,  and  the  sound  of  revelry  burst  upon 
his  ear,  he  could  restrain  himself  no  longer;  he  dashed  from  his  hand 
the  tables  of  the  law,  written  by  the  finger  of  Omnipotence,  and  they 
brake  at  the  foot  of  the  mount. 

This  act  was  censurable;  and  yet  it  furnishes  no  small  indication 
of  the  feelings  by  which  he  was  then  influenced,  the  views  by  which 
he  was  governed.  He  may  have  supposed  that  the  Israelites  were 
honored  because  of  their  faith.  They  were  free  from  idolatry.  And 
it  was  right  that  an  idolatrous  nation  f-hould  be  destroyed  to  furnish 
this  pious  people  a  place  of  abode.  But  if  so,  what  now  shall  be  done 
to  the  Israelites  ?  Bad  as  were  the  Canaanites,  the  Israelites  were  far 
worse.  The  people  of  Palestine  had  been  taught  idolatry;  they  had 
seen  no  miracles;  no  pillar  of  fire  had  guided  them;  no  sea  had  been 
divided  before  them  ;  they  had  not  been  fed  from  heaven;  and  had 
never  heard  the  voice  of  God.  Their  sin  was  in  part  palliated  by 
ignorance.  But  this  peojile,  while  eating  bread  from  heaven,  with  the 
throne  of  God  in  their  midst,  surrounded  with  the  clouds  of  his  gran- 
deur hanging  in  awful  magnificence  as  curtains  aroimd  the  mountain's 
summit,  while  he  himself  was  penning  for  them  his  eternal  law,  as  if  to 
insult  him,  had  made  a  golden  calf.  They  had  clothed  it  with  the 
attributes  of  Jehovah;  ascribed  to  it  the  miracles  of  the  deliverance, 
and  then,  as  in  mockery,  had  cried  out  in  the  ear  of  the  God  of  Abraham, 


INFLUENCE    OF    RIGHT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  So5 

Isaac,  and  Jacob,  "  Tliese  be  tliy  gods,  O  Israel,  whicli  Lrouglit,  tlice 
up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt." 

Nor  was  it  only  the  ihoughtless,  the  ignorant,  the  obscure,  that 
engaged  in  this  blasphemy.  Aaron — the  eloquent  Aaron — the  mouth 
of  Moses,  when  he  spake  the  word  of  God  unto  Pharoah,  with  the  elders 
of  Israel,  had  joined  in  the  impious  rites.  Under  such  circumstances, 
if  Canaanites  merited  the  wrath  of  God,  seventy  and  seven  fold  should 
be  the  vengeance  taken  on  Israel.  If  to  the  one  were  appointed  the 
destroying  sword,  what  but  fire  from  heaven  to  consume,  or  a  yawning 
earth  to  engulf,  could  be  a  fit  punishment  for  the  deeds  of  the  other  ? 
Is  it  wonderful,  that  Moses  should  cast  from  his  hands  a  law  for  which 
this  people  were  now  unprepared,  and  should,  in  the  anguish  of  his 
heart,  despair  for  them  as  to  the  mercy  of  God  ? 

But  yengeance  does-  not  fall  from  heaven.  The  people  are  still 
spared.  And,  after  various  periods  of  supplication,  he  is  even  answered, 
"  My  presence  shall  go  Avith  thee,  and  I  will  give  thee  rest."  What 
can  this  mean — the  idolatrous  Canaanite  cut  off,  the  idolatrous  Jew 
spared  ?  Some  great  development  must  be  in  preparation,  some  grand 
display  of  the  divine  character.  What  can  be  the  measure  of  that 
niei-cy,  which  is  preceded  by  the  preparatory  act  of  the  pardon  of  two 
millions  and  a  half  of  people  ?  His  longing  soul  desires  to  know  all 
the  purposes  of  God.  The  act  of  mercy,  just  witnessed,  kindled  within 
him  a  greater  love  for  God,  a  more  earnest  wish  to  fathom  the  depths 
of  his  goodness;  and,  with  the  vehemence  of  intense  desire,  he  cries 
out,  "  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory" — grant  me  a  full  exhibition 
of  thy  mercy  and  thy  love. 

II.  Let  us  next  consider  how  far  this  desire  was  satisfied. 

In  answer  to  this  earnest  prayer,  the  Deity  replies,  (v.  19,)  "  I  will 
make  all  my  goodness  pass  before  thee,  and  I  will  proclaim  the  name 
of  the  Lord  before  thee:  and  will  be  gracious  to  whom  I  will  be  gra- 
cious, and  will  show  mercy  on  whom  I  will  show  mercy."  Again  in 
verses  21-23,  "Behold  there  is  a  place  by  me,  and  thou  shalt  standi 
upon  a  rock;  and  it  shall  come  to  pass,  while  my  glory  passeth  by,,  that 
I  will  put  thee  in  a  cleft  of  the  rock,  and  will  cover  thee  with  my  hand 
Avhile  I  pass  by;  and  I  will  take  away  my  hand,  and  thou  shalt  see  my 
back  parts."  And  again  it  is  said,  in  chap,  xxxiv,  S-V,  "And  the 
Lord  descended  in  the  cloud,  and  stood  with  him  there,  and  proclaimed 
the  name  of  the  Lord.  And  the  Lord  passed  by  before  him  and  pro- 
claimed. The  LoVd,  The  Lord  God,  merciful  and  gracious,  long-suflTcring, 
and  abundant  in  goodness  and  truth,  keeping  mercy  for  thousands, 
forgiving  iniquity,  and  transgression,  and  sin,  and  that  will  by  no 
means  clear  tiie  guilty;  visiting  the  in^piity  of  the  fathers  upon  the 
the  children,  and  upon  the  children's  children,  unto  the  third  and  to 
the  fourth  generation." 


8CG  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

In  this  manifestation  of  the  divine  character  to  Moses,  a  few 
particulars  may  he  noticed. 

1.  He  prochiiraed  the  name  of  the  Z,ord  hefore  him.  This  probahly 
refers  to  such  a  general  view  of  the  divine  administration  as  exhibits 
the  benevolence,  holiness,  and  justice  of  God,  intimately  blended  in 
the  government  of  man. 

2.  He  made  all  his  goodness  pass  before  him.  This  was  probably 
a  prophetic  view  of  his  mercy  to  the  Israelites  as  a  nation  ;  in  Avhich 
was  exhibited  not  merely  his  sparing  them  on  that  occasion,  but  their 
settlement  and  continuance  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  the  strict  fulfilment 
of  the  promise  made  to  the  patriarchs  in  their  behalf. 

3.  He  showed  him  in  his  administration  as  a  sovereign :  "  I  will 
lie  gracious  to  whom  I  will  be  gracious,  and  I  will  show  mercy  on 
whom  I  will  show  mercy."  Here  was  explained  the  difference  of  the 
treatment  of  Israel  and  Canaan.  The  latter  had  filled  the  measure  of 
their  inquity  as  a  nation,  and  no  great  benefit  would  be  secured  to  the 
race  by  their  national  existence  ;  while  the  former,  though  guilty  of 
aggravated  sins,  might,  as  a  nation,  be  made  a  blessing  to  the  world. 
And  that,  for  the  accomplishment  of  sonie  great  good  to  man,  a  nation 
might  be  made  the  subject  of  mercy  and  grace,  as  to  civil  existence 
and  prosperity,  without  any  actual  good  deserts; — thus  showing  the 
national  \)e2uYmg  of  a  passage,  with  which  many  pious  ijidividuals  have 
been  greatlj^  perplexed.  Yet  the  same  principle  may  have  and, 
doubtless  often  has  had,  application  to  individuals  so  far  as  temporal 
position  is  concerned,  but  not  extending  to  their  salvation.  Yet  both 
as  to  nations  and  individuals,  when  the  day  of  employment  shall  be 
over,  crime  shall  be  visited  with  punishment;  in  the  individual  it 
might  not  be  on  earth,  but  in  nations  it  shall  be  visited  "upon  the 
children,  and  upon  the  children's  children,  unto  the  third  and  to  the 
fourth  generation." 

4.  He  gave  him  a  prophetic  view  of  the  mission  of  Christ.  This 
is  indicated  in  the  expression,  "Thou  shalt  see  my  back  parts."  The 
Hebrew  word  in  this  place  translated  "back  parts,"  refers  to  time  as 
m^qW  Vi^  to  position.  And  many  able  commentators  and  critics  have 
referred  this  passage  to  the  incarnation  of  Christ.  This  rendering 
conforms  so  well  to  the  general  use  of  the  word,  and  to  the  tenor  of 
Scriptui-fe-,,  that  there  can  be  but  little  doubt  of  its  correctness.  And 
a  free  triinslation  might  be,  "  Thou  shalt  see  me  as,  manifested  in  the 
latter  days.'''' 

The  revelation  appears  to  have  been  given  to  Moses,  to  strengthen 
his  own  faith,  and  to  fit  him  for  those  arduous  duties  required  of  the 
leader  of  such  a  people.  He  is  placed  in  a  "  cleft  of  the  rock,"  and 
before  him  passes,  as  though  spread  out  on  an  immense  canvas,  the 
representations  of  the  future.     He  beholds  the  goodness  of  God  to  the 


INFLUENCE    OF    RIGHT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  8G7 

rebellious  Jew;  sees  him  settled  in  the  Holy  Land;  kings  and  princes, 
Avise  and  noble,  and  holy  men,  adorn  their  race,  and  Judea  is  a  blessing 
to  the  world.  And  as  the  pillar  of  cloud,  and  the  ark  and  its  mercy 
seat,  are  sometimes  called  the  glory  of  God;  so  he  beholds  in  the 
institutions  of  his  people,  in  the  influences  of  his  law,  and  the  messages 
of  the  prophets,  the  "  glory  of  God"  spreading  among  men.  But  a 
shade  falls  ujjon  the  canvas.  The  Deity  hides  the  future  in  his  hand. 
Again  his  hand  is  removed — the  indications  of  some  grand  coming 
event  become  closer  and  closer,  as  rays  of  hallowed  light  emerging  to  a 
focus,  until  at  last,  as  the  "  glory  of  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father," 
he  beholds  "  the  seed  of  Abraham,  in  whom  the  nations  of  the  earth  shall 
be  blessed  ;  "  the  "  Shiloh"  of  Jacob,  who  grasped  the  departing  sceptre 
of  Judah.  His  soul  leaps  forward  to  meet  him  on  the  mount  of  trans- 
figuration; joy  swells  his  heart,  and  he  can  hear  no  more.  He  bows 
his  head  and  worships. 

in.  We  can  now  inquire  why  his  petition  was  not  fully  granted. 

1.  From  what  has  been  already  expressed,  we  are  prepared  to 
assume  that  it  was  not  because  in  any  manifestation  there  would  be 
such  terrific  grandeur  as  should  destroy  human  existence.  For,  first, 
Moses,  Ave  think,  did  not  pray  for  external  manifestations.  These  could 
be  but  symbols ;  and,  however  vast  and  magnificent  the  symbols 
might  be,  they  never  could  adequately  represent  the  divine  charactei'. 
But,  secondly,  there  is  no  intimation  made,  as  we  think,  that  if  an 
exhibition  were  given,  it  would  be  one  of  terrific  majesty.  If  the 
dispensations  of  God  toward  man  are  pre-eminently  characterized  by 
mercy,  and  if  his  love  cannot  be  expressed  in  language,  and  could  be 
adequately  revealed  only  in  the  incarnation  and  passion  of  his  only 
begotten  Son,  then,  if  his  character  could  be  portrayed  by  symbols,  if 
his  glory  could  thus  be  made  known,  the  symbols  must  be  those  of  super- 
lative benevolence,  of  condescending  grace.  We  are  aware  that  the 
expression  of  the  apostle,  "For  our  God  is  a  consuming  fire,"  is  some- 
times quoted  to  sustain  the  terrific  view  of  the  divine  character;  but 
this  refers  to  his  judgments  upon  the  finally  impenitent,  and  not  to  any 
manifestations  or  dispensations  toward  those  who  are  still  on  probation. 

2.  The  language  employed  in  the  text,  "  Thou  canst  not  see  my 
face;  for  there  shall  no  man  see  me  and  live,"  does  not  express  any 
reason  why  man  is  unable  to  bear  a  view  of  the  Deity.  It  simply 
declares  the  fact,  that  man  cannot  see  the  face  of  God.  If  then,  we 
incpiire  what  is  meant  by  the  term  "  face,"  we  are  at  once  satisfied 
that  it  can  have  no  such  application  to  a  spirit  as  it  has  to  man.  It 
must  be  used  figuratively.  And  as  the  face  is  that  part  of  the  human 
form  which  remains  uncovered  and  visible;  that  part  which  particularly 
indicates  to  others  the  definite  person  or  individual;  while  other  jiarts 
of  the  form  are  protected  by  raiment — so  tlie  term  is  used  figuratively 


868  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

to  signify  that  which  is  fully  or  clearly  seen:  and  when  applied  to  the 
Deity,  would  be  a  full  revelation  of  the  divine  character;  embracing 
all  his  plans  of  mercy  and  benevolence  to  his  created  intelligences. 

3.  The  reason  why  man  could  not  behold  this  and  live,  would  not 
be  because  of  its  terror  or  majesty  ;  but  because  the  view  of  the  riches 
of  His  grace,  his  compassion  and  benevolence,  would  excite  emotions 
of  reverence,  of  admiration,  of  love,  and  of  joy,  too  overwhelming  for 
humanity  to  bear.  Each  manifestation  of  the  benevolence  of  God 
called  forth  songs  of  joy  and  ascriptions  of  praise  from  those  who 
beheld  them  in  ancient  times.  They  rejoiced  when  they  beheld  the 
*'  bow  of  promise  "  spanning  the  arch  of  heaven  with  its  glorious  array 
of  colors  ;  when  they  saw  the  intervention  of  the  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day,  and  the  guidance  of  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night  ;  when  the  sea 
parted  before  them,  and  they  saw  the  salvation  of  God ;  when,  for  the 
deliverance  of  Israel,  the  Assyrian  host  was  smitten  before  the  angel 
of  the  Lord ;  when  the  divine  glory  descended  and  rested  upon  the 
tabernacle  they  had  reared,  and  when,  after  their  captivity,  the 
second  temple  was  erected  and  consecrated,  amidst  the  tears  and 
rejoicings  of  the  restored  captives.  At  these,  and  many  other  displays 
of  benevolence  and  love,  the  ancient  Jews  rejoiced  greatly.  The 
spirits  of  the  prophets  rejoiced  within  them,  when  in  vision  they 
beheld  the  day  of  Christ ;  and  when  the  devout  Simeon  beheld  even 
the  infant  Jesus  brought  into  the  temple,  his  joy  swelled  into  ecstasy, 
and  feeling  all  he  could  desire,  he  cried  out  in  rapture,  "  Lord,  now 
lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  according  to  thy  word  ;  for 
piine  eyes  have  seen  thy  salvation."  Now  if,  in  these  cases,  a  single 
view  had  such  an  efiect,  what  would  be  the  result,  if  all  the  mercy  and 
compassion  of  God,  in  its  unbounded  immensity  and  inexhaustible 
fullness,  could  at  one  moment,  be  revealed  to  the  human  mind? 
Humanity  could  not  bear  the  vision.  No  man  can  see  "  the  face  of 
God  and  live  ; "  because  the  sublimity  of  the  view  would  produce  not 
only  "joy  unspteukable  and  full  of  glory,"  but  joy  at  which  the  soul 
should  be  unfitted  for  residing  in  the  body.  To  support  this  view  we  may 
reflect,  that  things  exciting  emotions  even  of  a  pleasurable  character 
may  extend  so  far  as  to  become  destructive,  and  that  emotions  of  joy 
may  in  themselves  destroy  life.  Liglit  is  pleasant,  it  spreads  a  halo 
of  beauty  and  glory  around  the  face  of  nature.  The  eye  is  never 
satisfied  wath  the  revelations  which  are  made  through  its  medium. 
Yet  let  that  light,  which  thus  spreads  beauty  around,  fall  upon  the  eye 
in  the  concentrated  form  of  a  ray  from  the  meridian  sun,  and  the  power 
of  vision  is  impaired,  if  not  totally  destroyed.  What  delight  is  com- 
municated by  means  of  sound  !  the  melody  of  birds — the  murmur  of 
the  waterfall — the  music  of  instruments — and  the  sound  of  that  sweetest 
and  richest  of  all  instruments,  the  human  voice — awaken  the  most 


INFLUENCE    OF    RIGHT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  SOd 

pleasurable  emotions.  And  yet,  let  that  murmur  of  the  waterfall  be 
changed  into  the  roar  of  the  cataract,  and  it  is  deafening,  Sound  may 
be  so  intense  and  prolonged,  that  the  auditory  nerve  shall  no  longer 
respond  to  its  vibrations. 

The  same  is  true  of  mental  emotion.  How  the  mind  operates  upon 
the  body  we  cannot  tell.  No  anatomist  has  detected  the  fine  cords 
which  bind  spirit  and  matter  together.  But  that  the  em-^tions  of  the 
mind  do  affect  the  body  is  universally  admitted.  Death  from  surprise, 
from  fright,  from  terror,  from  all  the  depressing  passions,  has  been  by 
no  means  uncommon.  And  where  death  has  not  ensued,  how  many 
have  been  made  maniacs  for  life  !  Nor  is  excitement  confined  to  the 
unpleasant  emotions.  Scenes  of  sublimity  may  inspire,  as  much  as 
scenes  of  terror  can  alarm.  Man's  soul  responds  as  quickly  and  as 
strongly  to  the  beautiful,  the  lovely,  the  good,  as  to  that  which  offends 
or  disgusts.  And  the  emotions  arising  from  the  beautiful  are  no  more 
under  our  control,  and  no  more  limited  in  strength,  than  those  of  the 
oiaposite  character. 

In  the  every-day  walks  of  life,  who  has  not  known  of  a  case  like 
this  ?  A  beloved  son  has  left  the  home  of  fond  parents  to  engage  in 
commercial  pursuits,  or  visit  some  distant  place.  By  various  causes 
his  stay  is  prolonged,  until  at  last  the  tidings  reach  his  parents  that 
he  was  wrecked  off  some  rocky  coast ;  or,  that  he  perished  in  a  fatal 
epidemic.  They  mourn  for  him  as  one  that  is  lost ;  and  they  think 
of  him  only  as  in  the  spirit  world.  Years  pass  away,  and  though 
strangely  preserved,  his  parents  are  not  aware  of  his  existence.  He 
starts  for  home.  Already  he  stands  upon  the  hill  that  overlooks  the 
scenes  of  his  boyhood  ;  the  house,  and  trees,  and  shrubs,  all  stand 
as  when  he  left  ;  his  heart  exults  at  the  thought  of  embracing  his 
parents,  and,  thoughtless  as  to  consequences,  he  hastily  approaches. 
He  opens  the  door.  His  mother  gazes  at  him  but  a  moment,  cries, 
"My  son,  my  son,"  throws  her  arms  fondly  around  his  neck,  and 
swoons  away  in  his  arms.  And  instances  have  occurred,  in  which,  from 
that  swoon,  there  has  been  no  recovery. 

Nor  can  it  be  said  that  such  cases  occur  only  among  the  weaker 
and  more  nervous  portions  of  the  human  family.  All  are  excitable. 
They  may  differ  as  to  the  objects  which  excite,  and  as  to  the  degree 
of  excitement  produced  by  any  definite  object,  but  still,  let  the  subject 
be  one  about  which  their  minds  are  deeply  interested,  and  all  are 
susceptable  of  intense  excitement.  The  grave  and  steady  citizen,  in 
times  of  great  political  discussion,  when  he  supposes  the  welfare  of 
his  country  is  dependent  on  the  result  of  an  election,  becomes  so  deeply 
interested,  that  he  loses  his  customary  self-control.  And  when,  at  the 
close  of  a  warmly  contested  canvass,  his  party  triumphs,  he  tosses  his 
cap  wildly  in  the  air,  or  joins  in  the  loud  exultation. 


S70  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

History  informs  us,  that  in  the  time  of  the  great  South  Sea  specu- 
lation in  England,  many  overjoyed  by  their  success,  became  insane. 
At  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.,  a  number  of  the  nobility  were  so 
affected  by  the  recovery  of  their  titles  and  estates,  that  they  became 
diseased,  and  in  a  short  time  died.  Leo  X.,  one  of  the  most  renowned 
occupants  of  the  Papal  chair,  was  so  rejoiced  by  a  victory  somewhat 
unexpectedly  gained  over  his  enemies,  that  he  sunk  beneath  the  excite- 
ment. The  heir  of  Leibnitz,  the  celebrated  mathematician,  on  finding 
that  a  chest,  filled,  as  he  supposed,  with  papers,  contained  a  large 
quantity  of  gold,  became  so  excited  by  the  discovery,  that  he  was 
seized  with  a  fatal  disease  of  the  heart.  The  celebrated  Ritten- 
liouse,  Pennsylvania's  earliest  astronomer,  was  selected  to  observe 
the  transit  of  Venus  across  the  sun's  disc,  in  order  that  the  correct- 
ness of  many  of  the  astronomical  calculations  might  be  tested. 
Having  made  all  necessary  arrangements  and  calculations,  he  watched 
earnestly  for  the  expected  transit  ;  and  when  at  the  calculated  moment, 
he  saw  the  dark  boundary  of  the  planet  obscure  the  edge  of  the  sun's 
disc,  he  was  so  overcome  with  emotion,  that  he  swooned  away,  and 
his  assistants  were  obliged  to  finish  the  observations.  The  immortal 
Newton,  w^hen  he  approached  toward  the  completion  of  those  cacula- 
tions  that  demonstrated  his  discovery  of  the  great  laws  of  nature,  and 
that  gave  him  an  imperishable  name,  and  when  he  saw  that  his  con- 
jectures were  about  to  be  verified,  was  so  deeply  affected,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  to  others  the  work  of  completing  his  calculations. 
Near  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war,  the  attention  of  Congress,  and 
of  the  whole  American  people,  was  directed  toward  the  armies  of 
\Yashington  and  CoruAvallis,  and  some  movement  was  daily  expected, 
having  a  powerful  bearing  upon  our  country's  liberty.  When  the 
messenger  arrived,  bringing  the  joyful  intelligence  that  Cornwallis  had 
surrendered,  the  doorkeeper  of  Congress  fell  dead  upon  the  fioor  of 
the  hall. 

If  such,  then,  be  the  influence  of  joyful  emotions,  when  arising  from 
temporal  subjects,  will  the  efiect  be  diminished  by  adding  the  revelation 
of  the  unseen  and  eternal  ?  Can  emotions  excited  by  a  view  of  the 
majesty,  holiness,  wisdom,  and  compassion,  of  the  eternalJehovah,  be 
less  strong,  than  those  excited  by  considering  a  small  portion  of  the 
Avork  of  his  hands?  And  is  it  unreasonable  to  expect  that  the  truths 
of  Christianity  will  produce  deep  and  powerful  religious  emotion  ? 
If  an  astronomer  shall  swoon,  and  a  Newton  sink  overpowered  by  the 
discovery  of  some  of  the  laws  by  which  the  Deity  governs  the  material 
world  ;  if  Pope  Leo  should  sink  through  joy  at  the  triumph  of  his 
army,  and  a  patriot  die  at  the  triumph  of  his  country  ;  if  the  unex- 
pected inheritance  of  a  chest  of  gold  or  the  restoration  of  rank  and 
estate  should  destrov  the  action  of  vital  organs  ;  what  shall  be  said 


I  N  F  L  U  E  N  C  E    OF    11  I  G  II  T    \'  I  E  W  S    O  L-'    (i  U  D .  ^71 

of  him  oil  whose  vision  shouhl  burst  the  revelation  of  the  laws  of  the 
Deity  in  the  moral  world ;  a  full  view  of  the  richness  of  his  grace  in 
■Christ  Jesus,  and  of  his  amazing  condescension  and  love  in  giving  his 
Son  to  die  to  save  a  rebellious  world  fast  sinking  into  destruction, 
and  by  his  offers  of  mercy,  and  influences  of  his  Spirit,  raising  feeble, 
sinful  man,  to  the  throne  of  his  glory,  having  first  purified  him  from 
all  iniquity?  If  natural  emotion  may  be  so  intense  that  the  soul  and 
body  cannot  unitedly  subsist,  well  may  it  be  said  of  such  a  manifest- 
ation, "  There  shall  no  man  see  me  and  live." 

As  a  general  inference  from  this  subject,  we  m:iy  notice  what  a 
sublime  view  is  thus  presented  of  the  revelation  contained  in  the  word 
of  God. 

1.  It  is  a  system  of  truth  :  in  which  directly  or  indirectly,  each 
separate  truth  leads  to  the  great  commanding  truth  of  the  being  aiul 
attributes  of  God.  This  is  the  substance  of  revelation;  God  displayed 
in  creation,  in  government,  and  in  mercy  to  man.  All  other  statements 
are  but  as  secondai'ies  revolving  around  their  primary.  The  whole  of 
revelation  is  such  a  view  of  the  character  of  God  as  shall  attract  men 
to  virtue,  to  happiness,  and  to  glory.  And  as  the  character  of  God  is. 
infinite  in  its  perfections,  it  can  never  be  perfectly  comprehended  by 
finite  minds.  So  much  of  the  truth  may  be  i-eadily  embraced  as  shall 
set  man  free  from  the  power  of  other  atti-actions,  but  there  is  still  an 
inexhaustible  remainder.  The  greatest  minds  may  here  be  for  ever 
engaged;  intellect  may  learn  much  ;  prophets  and  kings  may  gaze 
with  delight;  and  even  angels  shall  desire  to  look  into  these  sublime 
truths ;  but,  like  the  parallel  lines  of  the  mathematician,  there  may  be 
eternal  approximation  without  perfect  attainment. 

_'.  But  revelation  is  not  merely  a  system  of  sublime  truth.  It  is 
truth  so  presented  as  to  affect  our  sensitive  nature.  It  is  not  abstract 
speculation  alone  that  is  employed;  our  affections,  our  sympathies,  are 
all  enlisted.  It  is  a  system  intended  to  operate  upon  man.  It  operates, 
first,  by  presenting  the  gi-and,  the  lofty,  the  majestic  attributes  of  the 
divine  character.  And  as  the  contemplation  of  great  characters,  the 
association  with  the  great  personages  of  earth,  inspire  the  soul  with 
lofty  sentiments  and  high  purposes,  so  the  revelation  of  God's  majesty 
becomes  a  powerful  cause  of  elevation  to  man.  It  is  fixing  in  an 
immovable  position  a  fulcrum  which,  more  than  the  lever  of  Archim- 
edes, shall  move  in  elevating  humanity  toward  the  throne  of  God. 
It  operates,  secondly,  by  inspiring  man  with  what  is  termed,  technically 
the  sympathetic  emotion  of  virtue.  The  performance  of  a  brave,  a 
noble,  a  patriotic,  or  a  virtuous  act,  makes  us  desire  to  do  the  same. 
And  when  God  reveals  himself  as  a  God  of  mercy,  em])loying  his 
omnipotence  in  acts  of  compassion,  there  is  a  voice  that  whispers  to 
the  heart  through  evei-y  such  manifestation,  "  Be  ye  merciful,  even  as 


8Y2  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

I  am  merciful."  As  that  mercy  is  over  all  his  works — as  his  sunshine 
and  showers  fall  upon  all  alike — as  his  Son  suiFered  for  all — so  the 
compassion  taught  us  is  universal.  The  soul  under  such  influences 
desires  mercy  upon  all.  It  sends  the  Bible  on  the  wings  of  the  morning, 
carrying  light  and  animation  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  the  earth.  It 
sends  the  missionary  to  bear  the  glad  tidings  of  great  joy,  which 
warmed  even  angels'  hearts,  to  those  that  sit  in  the  valley  and  shadow 
of  death.  It  opens  the  school  and  founds  the  college,  and  seeks  in 
every  possible  manner  to  benefit  the  race  to  which  we  belong,  and 
toward  which  God  hath  showed  such  amazing  mercy.  It  operates, 
thirdly,  by  exciting  gratitude  and  joy  for  personal  salvation — for 
pardon,  for  regeneration,  and  for  adoption  into  the  family  of  the  Most 
High.  The  grateful  soul  is  ready  to  exclaim,  "  What  shall  I  render 
unto  the  Lord  for  all  his  benefits  toward  me  ! "  What  am  I,  and 
what  is  my  Father's  house,"  that  I  should  thus  be  the  subject  of  divine 
love  !  And  that  gratitude  and  joy  become  vastly  expanded  by  the 
reflection,  that  similar  favor  is  showed  to  all  our  kindred  and  to  all 
our  race  ;  that  our  fathers  were  the  subjects  of  mercy,  and  our  children, 
and  our  children's  children,  shall  inherit  the  same  salvation  ;  that  in 
every  clime,  tongue,  kindred,  and  people,  may  be  experienced  the 
same  joys  of  pardoning  mercy.  At  such  a  view  we  may  well  exclaim 
with  the  apostle,  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of  the  wisdom 
and  knowledge  of  God.  A  fourth  eftect  of  such  revelation  is,  that  the 
soul  deserves  to  dwell  constantly  as  in  the  presence  of  God.  In  him  is 
all  fullness — the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge  for  the  intellect,  of 
grace  and  mercy  for  the  souL  He  becomes  the  Alpha  and  the  Omega 
to  the  believing  heart ;  and  as  the  Deity  gi-ants  such  personal  commu- 
nion, the  soul  becomes  refined  and  purified.  The  world  diminishes  in 
value ;  eternity,  with  all  its  spiritual  blessedness,  gradually  unfolds 
before  the  moral  vision ;  and  the  limit  of  joy  is  only  found  in  the 
necessity  of  fitness  for  duties  here.  There  is  no  limit  in  the  fullness, 
glory,  and  sublimity,  of  the  divine  character.  There  is  no  limit  in  the 
Avillingness  of  God  to  impart,  for  "  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son, 
but  freely  delivered  him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him 
freely  give  us  all  things  ?"  There  is  no  limit  of  power  as  to  the  agent, 
"  For  we  all  with  open  face  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the 
Lord,  are  changed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to  glory,  even  as 
by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord."  The  limit  is  only  found  in  the  fact,  that 
humanity  can  best  discharge  the  duties  imposed  on  us  here  when  those 
manifestations  are  not  overwhelmingly  grand.  Under  this  limitation 
tlie  spirit  of  the  Bible  is  a  spirit  of  joy,  crying  constantly  to  the  true 
Christian,  "  Rejoice  evermore,  and  again  I  say,  rejoice." 

3.  That  such  are  the  effects  of  the  manifestation   of  God's  mercy, 
we  are  further  warranted  in  believin'4  fi-om  the  liistorv  of  distinguished 


INFLUENCE    OF    RIGHT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  ST3 

individuals.  Moses,  wlien  tlie  name  of  the  Lord  was  proclaimed  Vjefore 
him,  and  his  goodness  passed  before  liim,  "made  haste  and  bowed  his 
head  toward  the  earth  and  worsliipped."  He*  adored  and  reverenced. 
But  in  the  midst  of  that  adoration  there  was  no  such  alarm  as  made 
Israel  say,  "Let  not  God  speak  with  us;"  his  soul  desired  still  the 
presence  of  God,  and  his  immediate  prayer  was,  "Let  my  Lord,  I  pray 
thee,  go  among  us."  And  such  was  the  influenceof  the  manifestations 
he  received,  that  his  face  shone  with  such  glory  that  the  people  could 
not  look  upon  him  unveiled;  or  in  other  words,  the  manifestations  of 
goodness  and  of  glory  were  carried  to  the  ntmost  possible  point  at 
which  his  usefulness  to  the  people  of  Israel  could  remain.  When 
Daniel  was  shown  in  prophetic  vision  the  return  of  the  captive  Jews, 
and  when  tlie  succession  of  empii-e  was  revealed,  and  the  things  that 
should  happen  in  the  latter  days,  he  says,  "  There  remained  no  strength 
in  me;  and  before  he  was  able  to  hear  the  whole  prediction,  the  angel 
touched  him  to  strengthen  him.  On  the  mount  of  transfiguration  the 
disciples  were  so  overwhelmed  that  "  they  knew  not  what  they  said," 
or  did  not  fully  see  the  impropriety  of  their  request,  and  yet  were  so 
enchanted  that  they  said,  "  Master,  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  here."  The 
apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  who  in  the  learning  of  his  age  and  in  strength 
of  intellect  had  few  if  any  equals,  was  so  charmed  with  heavenly  visions, 
that  whether  he  was  "  in  the  body  or  out  of  the  body"  he  could  not 
tell;  while  the  exiled  apostle  on  the  Isle  of  Patmos  fell  as  one  that 
was  dead. 

4.  What  an  unfailing  source  of  comfort  and  joy  is  opened  for  the 
Christian  in  the  revelation  which  God  hath  given  !  His  joy  is  not  of 
this  world,  it  is  in  God.  The  world  may  change,  but  God  changeth  not. 
God's  glory  never  faileth — the  Christian's  spring  of  happiness  never 
runs  dry.  What  a  beautiful  figure  to  represent  this  life  from  God  is 
that  employed  in  the  description  of  the  New  Jerusalem:  "A  pure  river 
of  water  of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne  of  God 
and  of  the  Lamb  I  "  Of  this  the  purified  partake.  The  kingly  and 
mediatorial  government  of  God  ever  furnishes  the  just  spirits  with 
increasing  admiration  of  the  glory  of  God.  And  on  earth  true  Chris- 
tian comfort  is  the  same.  It  is  of  God — it  is  in  God.  Property  may 
vanish,  friends  may  fail,  health  may  be  destroyed,  but  God  still  is 
immutably  glorious,  and  from  his  throne  still  flows  the  pure  river, 
clear  as  crystal,  imparting  life  and  joy  to  all  that  dwell  upon  its  banks. 
It  is  a  river  of  mercy,  a  river  of  grace,  and  he  that  drinketh  of  its 
water  need  never  thirst  again  for  the  turbid  streams  of  earthly  joy. 

5.  If  then  the  effect  of  the  manifestation  of  God's  mercy  and  love 
be  to  elevate,  to  ennoble,  and  to  rejoice  the  heart  of  man,  why 
should  not  our  minds  dwell  upon  the  divine  character?  We  may  not 
indeed  "find  out  the  Almighty  to  perfection,"  but  Ave  learn  more  and 


874  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

more  of  liis  gloi-y.  He  did  not  chide  Moses  for  his  enlarged  prayer, 
nor  will  he  chide  us  for  seeking  the  utmost  knowledge  and  enjoyment 
of  his  grace.  Christianity  alone  offers  man  knowledge  and  joy  which 
can  perfectly  fill  his  expansive  capacity,  and  for  that  knowledge  and 
that  grace  unceasing  effort  should  be  made,  and  ceaseless  prayer  offered 
to  the  Most  High.     For  this  we  may  come  boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace. 

6.  And  if  the  limit  of  manifestation  of  mercy  is  found  in  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  creature  and  not  in  God,  avIio  shall  attempt  to  say 
what  glorious  enjoyment  awaits  the  celestial  citizen  ?  Or  who  shall 
fix  the  limits  to  the  amount  of  blissful  manifestation  which  may  be 
made  to  the  soul  when  about  to  be  released  from  its  earthly  duties  and 
connections  ?  It  was  a  favoi'ite  opinion  of  many  of  the  Roman  and 
Grecian  philosoi^hers  and  poets,  that  the  prophetic  spirit  came  upon 
man  in  his  dying  moments.  Aristotle,  Socrates,  Pythagoras,  and  even 
Homer,  make  allusions  to  it,  and  consider  it  in  some  manner  connected 
with  the  soul's  immortality ;  and  Xenophon  speaks  of  the  soul's 
appearing  godlike  in  its  last  moments  with  the  body.  What  may  have 
given  rise  to  this  view  among  pagan  nations  we  know  not ;  but  among 
the  Jews  the  dying  patriarchs  had  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  and  Jacob 
blessed  his  sons,  "  worshipping  and  leaning  upon  the  top  of  his  staff." 
The  future  opened  upon  their  vision  as  earth  was  receding,  and  ere 
its  earthly  departure  the  soul  seemed  as  an  inhabitant  of  another  world. 
And  is  it  not  an  increased  manifestation  of  mercy  that  makes  the 
"  chamber  where  the  good  man  meets  his  fate"  seem  to  be  "  quite  on 
the  verge  of  heaven  ?  "  May  it  not  have  been  such  manifestations  that 
raised  the  martyr's  spirit  above  the  power  of  the  flame,  and  enabled 
him,  Avith  Stephen,  to  look  "  up  steadfastly  into  heaven,  and  "  to  see 
"the  glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God?" 
Is  it  not  this  that  enables  the  dying  Christian  to  exclaim,  "  0  death 
where  is  thy  sting  !     O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  !  " 

T.  Does  it  seem  unreasonable  that  when  life  is  about  to  be  over, 
the  Deity  should  withdraw  his  hand,  and  let  such  a  view  of  his  glory 
upon  the  mind,  that  the  physical  frame  shall  fall,  and  the  unfettered 
spirit  rise  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  beatific  love  ?  Is  it  fanciful  to 
suppose  that  this  w^as  the  case  with  Moses  ?  His  was  a  peculiar  death. 
None  but  his  God  was  with  him. 

Behold  him,  in  fancy,  as  for  the  last  time  he  addresses  Israel.  The 
elders  and  all  the  people  are  around  him,  with  their  wives  and  their 
little  ones.  He  sets  before  them  the  law  of  their  God,  and  exhorts 
them  to  obedience-  The  spirit  of  prophecy  comes  upon  him,  and  he 
tells  them  of  things  that  should  befall  them  in  time  to  come,  gives  them 
his  last  patriarchal  blessing,  and  then,  as  if  taking  his  last  look,  he  cries 
out,  "  Happy  art  thou,  O  Israel ;  who  is  like  unto  thee,  0  people  saved 
by  the  Lord  ?  " 


INFLUENCE    OF    lilGUT    VIEWS    OF    GOD.  875 

lie  ascends  Mount  Nebo,  toward  tlie  top  of  Pisgali,  The  veil  has 
been  taken  from  his  face  for  tlie  last  time  as  he  goes  up  to  meet  the 
Lord.  Are  his  feelings  those  of  dread  or  of  joy  ?  What  should  he 
dread  ?  To  be  nearer  Jehovah  is  his  greatest  joy,  and  he  is  to  receive 
sablimer  and  more  extensive  visions  of  glory.  Is  not  his  ])rayer  still, 
"  1  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory  ?  "  He  stands  upon  the  moun- 
tain's summit,  and,  as  he  gazes,  there  spreads  out  in  all  its  richness 
and  in  all  its  beauty  the  promised  land,  even  "  all  the  land  of  Gilead 
unto  Dan,  and  all  Nnphtali,  and  the  land  of  Ephraim  and  ilanasseh, 
and  all  the  land  of  Judah,  unto  the  utmost  sea."  He  looks  again,  and 
future  scenes  are  before  him.  Upon  Mount  Moriah  rises  a  magnificent 
building — a  splendid  temple.  Its  walls  are  of  massive  structure,  its 
columns  lofty  and  imposing,  and  the  riches  of  Ophir  are  displayed  in 
its  decorations.  A  wise  king  is  on  the  throne  of  David,  and  millions 
of  people  repose  in  peace  and  prosperity  beneath  his  SAvay.  Within 
the  court  of  the  temple  are  the  prescribed  sacrifices,  and  devout 
worsliippers  turn  toward  the  j^lace  of  the  mercy-seat.  Again  he  prays, 
"  1  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory."  And  in  the  wilderness  of  Judea, 
and  along  the  populous  courts  of  Galilee,  he  beholds  wandering  "  a 
man  of  sorrows  and  acquainted  with  grief."  At  his  approach  the  sick 
and  infirm  crowd  around.  The  blind  see,  the  deaf  hear,  the  lepers 
are  cleansed,  the  dead  are  brought  to  life,  and  the  poor  hear  the  gospel 
of  the  kingdom.  He  recognizes  him  as  the  "  Hope  of  Israel,"  a  prophet 
like  unto  himself  in  mission,  but  as  the  morning  star  in  glory.  His 
soul  exults  within  him  as  he  sees  fulfilled  all  the  types  and  shadows 
of  the  ceremonies  instituted  by  him,  and  he  worships  his  incarnate 
Lord.  Again  he  looks,  and  he  stands  by  a  cross;  upon  it  is  the  King 
of  the  JcAVS.  The  heavens  are  hung  with  blackness,  and  creation 
sympathizes  with  the  divine  sufferer.  Then  the  agony  is  over ;  the 
earth  has  quaked ;  the  sun  shone  forth  with  his  brilliant  beams,  as  the 
triumphant  exclamation  Avas  heard,  "  It  is  finished  !  "  The  graves  of 
the  dead  Avere  opened,  and  the  veil  concealing  the  holy  of  holies  was 
rent  in  twain,  opening  up  a  new  and  living  way  to  the  mercy-seat. 
Again  he  prays,  "  I  beseech  thee,  show  me  thy  glory."  And  he 
beholds  an  ascended  Saviour  ;  the  angel  flies  through  the  midst  of 
heaven  proclaiming  the  gospel  to  man  ;  the  Gentile  hears  as  Avell  as 
the  Jew  ;  and  from  the  north  and  soijth,  from  the  east  and  Avest,  come 
floAving  around  the  cross  the  people  of  every  tongue  and  kindred, 
Avhile  glorious  light  is  shining  upon  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  all 
mankind  is  blessed  in  the  "seed  of  Abraham."  Ecstacy  fills  his  soul, 
but  he  realizes  that  no  man  can  see  the  face  of  God  and  live.  His 
body  falls  upon  the  summit,  and  "  the  Lord  buried  him  ;"  AA'hile  his 
spirit,  amid  visions  of  glory  on  the  mountain-top,  ascends  to  brighter 
bliss  and  more  refulgent  glory  in  the  celestial  world. 


876  MATTHEW    SIMPSON. 

If  sncli  were  the  scene  Avhich  we  have  attempted  to  describe,  what 
hliss  would  there  not  be  in  such  a  death  !  And  may  not  the  dying 
Christian,  wherever  he  may  be,  even  deep  in  the  valley  of  humility, 
have  bright  visions  and  sweet  whispers  of  love  in  his  expiring 
moments  ?  May  not  the  manifestation  of  God's  mercy  soothe  his 
sorrows,  and  turn  his  sufferings  into  joy  ?  "  May  I  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  and  may  my  last  end   be  like  his !  " 


DISCOURSE   LXIV. 

GEORQ-E    H.    HEP^VORTH. 

The  popular  pastor  of  the  Clmrcli  of  tlie  Disciples,  on  Madison  avenue  corner 
of  Forty-fifth  street  N.  Y.,  Rev.  George  H.  Hepworth,  was  born  in  Boston,  Feb.  4tli 
1883.  He  is  of  French  descent  on  his  mother's  side.  Graduated  at  Cambridge 
Divinity  School  in  18o3,  his  first  settlement  was  in  Nantucket,  Mass.  In  1858  a 
new  society  was  formed  in  Boston  called  "  Church  of  the  Unity  "  over  which  Mr. 
Hepworth  was  invited  to  preside.  A  large  building  was  erected  which  from  the 
first  was  crowded.  This  continued  till  the  outbreak  of  the  war,  when  he  prompt- 
ly responded  to  his  country's  call,  first  as  Chaplain,  then  filling  other  important 
positions  till  the  close  of  the  war.  Upon  his  return  North,  he  opened  a  Theologi- 
cal School,  in  which  he  received  forty  students,  whom  he  afterwards  transferred 
to  Cambridge  by  invitation  of  the  authorities  there.  Mr.  Hepworth's  aim  ever 
being  to  reach  the  masses  who  do  not  attend  Church,  in  18G()  he  began  Theatre 
preaching  in  Boston.  This  effort  was  so  successful,  that  crowds  left  the  doors 
unable  to  gain  admission.  He  was  called  to  the  pastorate  of  the  "  Church  of  the 
Messiah,"  N.  Y.,  where  the  congregations  so  increased  that  this  large  building  was 
found  too  small.  What  with  Mr.  Hepworth  at  the  first  was  only  an  impression, 
liad  grown  with  his  years  and  strengthened  with  his  experience  ;  and  he  became 
convinced  that  he  must  preach  Christ  as  equal  with  God  the  Father,  and  a  perfect 
Saviour  for  all  who  believe  in  him. 

Hence  he  began  preaching  in  Association  Hall,  and  afterward  in  Stein  way 
Hall,  till  the  completion  of  the  new  Church  edifice.  This  building  although  seating 
2,400  is  always  full. 

Mr.  Hepworth's  peculiar  sympathy  and  interest  for  young  men,  attracts  them 
to  his  preaching  in  great  numbers.  A  very  interesting  and  important  part  of  his 
work  is  to  organize  associations  for  the  social  and  religious  improvement  of  these 
young  men.  His  preaching  is  extemporaneous.  His  pulpit  is  a  small  table.  In 
preaching,  he  always  stands  in  front  of  it.  He  is  an  earnest  advocate  of  congrega- 
tional singing,  which  is  a  prominent  feature  in  his  Church-service. 

His  discourses  abound  with  illustrations  drawn  from  every  day  life.  As  a 
lecturer  he  is  very  successful: — one  attraction  being  his  terse  way  of  putting 
things. 


S78.  GEORGE    H.    HEP  WORTH. 

HAPPINESS  IN  ACCORD  WITH  LAW. 

"  Think  not  I  am  come  to  destroy  the  law,"  Matt.  v.  17. 

Every  thoughtful  man  has  discovered  that  God  intended  happi- 
ness as  the  net  result  of  living.  In  the  gross  experience  of  life,  there 
are  undoubtedly  instances  of  sorrow,  struggle  and  trial ;  but  when  the 
good  man  reaches  the  other  end  and  gets  ready  to  lay  down  the  pack 
of  the  past  and  the  present,  and  to  enter  upon  the  celestial  life,  he  is 
able  to  look  back  with  inexpressible  gratitude  that  he  was  born.  To 
live  is  a  delight  and  a  pleasure.  There  are  so  many  things  to  enjoy, 
and  thei-e  is  so  much  happiness  to  be  found  in  unexpected  corners  and 
crannies,  that  wherever  you  go,  you  may  find  a  smile  ;  and  though  you 
be  bowed  down  under  a  heavy  burden  of  affliction,  yet  there  shall  be 
a  hope  leading  your  spirit  up  into  the  thought  of  a  higher  and  a  truer 
life. 

Not  only  has  God  given  to  us  as  tenants  at  his  will,  a  very  beauti- 
ful house  to  live  in,  but  he  has  also  given  to  us  certain  relationships 
with  each  other,  from  which  we  derive  a  very  revelation,  sometimes, 
of  the  other  world.  We  enjoy  our  friendships  ;  and  our  loves,  tender 
and  true,  bind  us  together.  We  double  our  strength  when  we  give 
our  hearts  to  another,  and  working  side  by  side,  sufiering  together, 
weeping  together  and  laughing  together,  we  make  the  days  pass  like 
music,  the  echo  of  which  comes  back  to  us  like  the  echo  of  the  strains 
we  once  heard,  to  cheer  us  in  any  present  of  gloom.  And  every  function, 
if  used  as  God  intended  it  to  be  used,  adds  to  our  comfort  and  to  our 
enjoyment.  All  functions  of  the  body  are  jjleasurable  when  they  are  in 
their  normal  condition.  What  a  grand  privilege  this  miracle  of  vis- 
ion is  !  How  can  we  ever  thank  God  for  sight  ! — the  ability  to  look 
out  upon  the  handiwork  of  the  Almighty,  to  see  the  everchanging  and 
evervarying  colors  of  nature  !  What  a  privilege  this  miracle  of  the 
ear  is,  by  which  soft  sweet  music  steals  into  the  soul  to  charm  it  and 
subdue  it  into  worship ;  the  music  of  the  breezes  ;  the  roaring  artillery 
of  heaven  with  its  deep  bass  ;  childhood's  tender  voices  ;  the  word  of 
love  from  those  to  whom  we  are  drawn  by  sympathy  and  afiection,  the 
treasured  word  which  comes  'to  us  as  our  most  solemn  and  sacred 
charge  when  one  who  has  borne  us  upon  her  bosom  through  many 
sicknesses,  closes  her  eyes  in  that  sleep  from  which  tlie  waking  will 
be  in  heaven. 

It  is  true  also  that  every  function  of  the  mind  adds  to  our  happi- 
ness. What  a  marvel  this  power  of  thinking  !  No  man  can  compre- 
hend it.  Everybody  stands  aghast  before  the  problem  of  his  own 
mind.  He  cannot  enter  into  it,  as  he  can  into  a  labyrinth  builded  by 
the  arcliitoet'and  even  groi  e  l)is  w:iv  tlivouuh  dark  cliambers  into  the 


HAPPINESS    IN    ACCORD    WITH    LAW.  ST9 

sunlight  beyond.  Man  is  to  himself  a  great  and  increasing  wonder, 
and  tlie  most  marvellous  of  all  things  is,  that  he  can  think  himself  out 
of  himself  into  a  new  individuality  and  grow  tired  of  that  and  slough  it 
off  and  in  the  path  of  progress  find  himself  ever  renewing,  growing 
stronger;  and  growing  wider  and  growing  deeper  in  his  power  and 
in  his  sympathy. 

What  a  marvellous  happiness  jiiust  the  astronomer  have  who  studies 
the  heavens  day  after  day,  night  after  night  and  year  after  year, 
divining  as  it  were  by  slow  degrees  into  the  very  planof  the  Almighty 
himself,  putting  his  ear  up  to  the  skies  and  catching  some  faint  sound 
of  the  secrets  of  the  eternities,  listening'  till  the  music  of  the  spheres 
steals  into  his  nature  to  make  himself  melodious  while  he  kneels  in  that 
infinite  presence  whose  fiat  called  forth  these  miracles  and  these  won- 
ders. 

How  strangely  happy  I  have  sometimes  thought  the  novelist  must 
be,  when  before  he  touches  pen  to  paper  he  lays  out  his  plot,  follows  it 
in  all  its  workings,  clothes  each  one  of  the  figures  in  the  great  drama 
according  to  his  own  fancy,  gives  it  its  place  upon  the  stage  of  human 
life,  tells  it  what  it  shall  do  and  what  it  shall  not  do,  and  with  a  kind 
of  creative  energy  controls  as  a  Providence  all  the  lives  and  all  the 
incidents  and  all  the  destinies  of  the  people  whom  his  fancy  has  brought 
to  the  surface  !  No  wonder,  if  he  be  a  true  man,  that  he  wee[)S  when 
his  own  fancies  weep,  that  he  prays  when  the  creatures  of  his  own 
imagination  laugh  and  are  glad. 

Or,  to  pursue  the  subject  still  further,  what  marvellous  happiness 
comes  to  us  when  the  spirit  of  man  acts  normally — when  the  soul  of  a 
man  comes  into  magnetic  and  sympathetic  contact  with  God,  when  it 
rises  up  through  prayer  or  through  meditation  into  that  higher  sphere 
when,  as  it  were,  it  converses  with  angels  as  with  friends  and  talks 
even  to  God  from  afar  off,  since  he  could  not  bear  the  effulgence  of  his 
immediate  presence  !  What  consolation,  what  ecstasy,  what  sublime 
calmness,  sweetness  and  serenity  steal  through  a  man's  soul  when  he 
rises  above  all  the  clouds  that  settle  down  upon  the  valley  of  our  com- 
mon drudgery,  and  stand  upon  the  mountain  top  of  heaven,  breathing 
the  clear  atmosphere  of  a  diviner  faith  and  seeing  in  the  distance  the 
Father  of  us  all ! 

But  we  must  remember  that  happiness  comes  only  when  our  pow- 
ers are  used  normally  ; — the  way  they  were  intended  to  be  used.  And 
there  we  come  across  a  stubborn  fact  in  every  man's  experience,  illus- 
trations of  which  you  have  discovered  already.  It  is  a  fact  that  a 
man  can  not  do  as  he  pleases  in  this  life.  He  must  do  as  God  pleases. 
Outside  of  you  and  your  personality,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  your 
wishes,  there  is  a  law,  and  that  law  is  irresistible.  It  must  be  accorded 
with.  It  can  not  be  avoided.  It  can  not  be  broken  down.  You  n)ust 
56 


880  GEORGE    H.    HEP  WORTH. 

yield  yourself  captive  to  that  law,  and  in  your  captivity  the  promise  is 
that  you  shall  find  a  higher  freedom.  No  man  can  ever  know  what 
life  is  until  he  is  overwhelmed  with  a  consciousness  that  he  is  God's 
child ;  that  he  is  endowed  of  another,  and  that  he  has  no  right  to  him- 
self except  the  right  which  the  grace  of  God  gives  to  him.  Now  it 
would  be  exceedingly  hard  to  discover  this  for  myself  unaided  and 
there  just  there  I  find  the  absolute  necessity  for  revelation.  People 
come  to  me,  young  men  come  to  me  and  sit  in  my  study  sometimes 
and  express  to  me  their  doubts.  "  Why  is  it  that  we  need  a  revelation 
at  all  ? "  they  say.  You  have  said  it  a  hundred  times  to  me.  For 
this  reason,  that  if  you  were  left  alone  life  isn't  long  enough  for  you 
to  comprehend  the  plan  of  God  respecting  you.  And  so  the  Almighty 
begins  with  you  when  you  are  in  your  cradled  infancy  and  tells  you 
jnst  as  your  parent  would  do  if  he  could,  what  he  expects  you  to  do  in 
this  work  of  life.  He  lays  out  for  you  a  plan  which  you  are  to  follow,  he 
traces  a  design  according  to  which  you  are  to  labor.  He  gives  to  you 
an  illustration  of  how  the  law  acts  in  the  life  and  character  of  Christ 
Jesus  the  Lord.  He  gives  you  a  stint  as  it  were,  your  daily  task,  your 
life  task  and  then  saying,  "  whenever  you  get  into  perplexities  come  to 
me ;  whenever  you  get  into  difficulty  come  to  me ;  whenever 
the  burden  is  too  heavy  for  you  to  bear,  come  to  me  and  I  will 
help  you. "  And  then  I  thank  God  with  all  my  soul;  I  thank 
him  with  every  impulse  of  my  nature,  that  he  hath  spoken  out 
of  the  heavens  to  my  ignorance  and  made  me  wise,  to  my  helplessness, 
and  made  me  strong,  to  my  impatience,  and  made  me  patient,  to  my 
littleness,  and  made  me  a  possible  angel.  But  he  requires  of  me,  and 
there  is  a  reason  for  it  you  will  see  at  once,  he  requires  of  me  that  I 
shall  accord  strictly  with  his  commands  and  that  I  shall  obey  implicitly 
the  precepts  which  he  has  given  to  me  on  this  ground,  that  lie  knows 
more  than  I  do,  that  he  can  see  farther  than  I  can  see,  that  he  under- 
stands the  result,  the  inevitable  logical  result  of  everything  that  is  said 
and  of  everything  that  is  done,  and  so  revelation  and  reason  are  one 
and  the  same  thing.  Revelation  is  the  logic  of  God.  Nothing  else. 
Tleligion  some  people  think  is  a  thousand  miles  away  from  life  and 
from  the  common  scenes  of  life.  Some  people's  religion  is.  But  the 
genuine  religion  is  not,  and  if  you  have  any  kind  of  religion  which 
teaches  you  that  you  ought  not  to  do  your  duty  every  day,  do  your 
drudgery  faithfully  and  well,  and  put  your  whole  soul  into  it  and  dig- 
nify it  and  transfigure  it,  give  that  kind  of  religion,  up  and  come  to 
Christ  and  get  something  better,  for  the  Christian  religion  demands 
that  you  shall  work  in  your  sphere  with  a  consecrated  spirit  and  with 
a  sanctified  soul  ;  that  you  shall  not  be  unmindful  "bf  this  world,  while 
you  are  not  forgetful  of  the  world  to  come ;  and  that  you  shall  inter- 
mix and  interweave  the  things  of  the  future  with  the  things  of  the 


HAPPINESS    IX    ACCORD    WITH    LAW-  SSI 

present,  and  come  what  may,  you  shall  be  ready  for  it  and  be  able  to 
say  :  "  I  am  in  the  Fatlier's  liands  and  it  is  He  that  is  guiding  me. 
Christ  is  responsible  lor  me  and  I  am  not  responsible  for  myself." 

I  have  said  that  the  first  thing  we  come  across  is  a  law  and  that  the 
only  way  to  secure  happiness,  brethren,  is  to  obey  that  law.  But  how 
do  we  test  it  ?  how  do  we  try  to  avoid  it  ?  A  young  man  with  this  know- 
ledge in  his  heart  lives  physically,  not  according  to  the  laws  of  Moses 
nor  according  to  the  laws  of  Christ.  He  tampers  with  his  own  powers. 
He  overuses  himself,  he  caters  to  his  own  passions,  to  his  own  appetites, 
and  all  under  the  feeling  that  he  will  evade  the  consequences.  Others 
liave  fallen  but  he  will  escape  the  punishment.  He  eats,  he  drinks,  not 
according  to  law,  but  according  to  impulse,  and  he,  as  he  says,  enjoys 
all  those  pleasures  wliich  are  catalogued  under  the  word  "  fast."  What 
is  the  inevitable  result  when  you  throw  a  stone  into  the  air?  It  comes 
down  with  a  dull,  dead,  solid  thud  upon  its  side  again.  Until  you  can 
make  a  stone  stay  yonder  you  can't  do  wrong  to  your  body  and  not 
reap  the  fruit  thereof.  The  law  of  God  is  not  a  law  to  the  soul  alone. 
It  is  a  law  Avhich  holds  in  its  grasp  every  atom  in  the  universe,  and  no 
man  can  misuse  any  physical  power  or  misdirect  any  physical  function 
without  paying  the  awful  price.  You  might  just  as  well  attempt  to  Avind 
a  watch  backwards  as  to  commit  physical  wrong  and  not  expect  the 
result.  Trj-  your  watch  if  you  dare  to.  It  resists  for  a  while  but  with  your 
strong  finger  persist  in  it.  Turn  the  key  the  wrong  way.  In  a  minute 
you  will  hear  a  snap  ;  then  you  will  hear  a  whiz,  then  your  watch  isn't 
good  for  anything  until  you  get  a  new  main-spring.  But,  brethren, 
there  are  no  shops  on  earth  where  you  can  get  a  new  physical  main 
spring.  When  one's  body  is  ruined,  it  is  ruined  for  this  life,  when 
there  is  a  physical  failure,  that  failure  is  for  all  time.  Some  peoj^le 
seem  to  think  that  the  human  body  is  like  a  ferry-boat  which  Avill  go 
both  ways  equally  well.  Not  so.  It  is  like  an  ocean-steamer  intended 
not  for  river  use  but  to  combat  with  the  wild  waves  of  the  wind  and 
wintry  Atlantic.  You  must  see  that  every  part  is  in  order  and  it  is  an 
important  element  of  your  religion  to  use  your  bodies  as  saints  would 
use  them.  Or  again,  a  man  can  not  misuse  his  mind  without  evil  as  a 
conseciuence.  The  law  applies  there  just  as  well  I  have  seen  many 
and  many  a  business  man  even  in  ray  short  career  begin  wrong  and 
end  in  death,  thoroughly  absorbed  in  business,  so  absorbed  that  he 
rises  with  the  sun,  dreams,  plans,  devises  all  day,  submitting  to  ten 
thousand  cares,  and  ten  thousand  anxieties  never  allowing  himself  a 
single  let-up,  or  a  single  vacation,  growing  gray  and  not  growing 
young,  until  at  last  his  over  cerebration  results  either  in  a  cell 
of  the  mad-house  or  in  a  premature  grave.  And  so  a  hundred  new 
diseases  are  cropping  up  to  the  surface  of  our  American  life  because 
we  misuse  our  minds  ;  because  not  understanding  the  proper  way  in 


882  GEORGE    H.    HEP  WORTH. 

which  to  use  the  intellectual  faculties  we  keep  the  bow  bent  all  the 
time  until  the  string  snaps  and  life  is  gone. 

Now,  you  can  carry  that  thought  still  farther.  A  man  may  misuse 
his  soul  until  evil  comes.  O  the  evils  of  a  misused  soul  are  something 
terrible  !  The  world  to-day  does  not  appreciate  either  the  delicacy  or 
the  energy,  or  the  possible  glories  of  a  soul  that  uses  every  function 
normally  and  as  it  should  be  used.  I  see  churches  in  bitter  controver- 
sies. Does  that  indicate  a  proper  soul-possession  ?  No.  They  have 
Faith  ;  they  have  hope ;  but  they  forget  ofttimes  that  there  is  another 
element,  wliich  is  charity,  and  that  the  apostle  hath  said  "  the  greatest 
of  all  these  is  charity.  Men  hate  each  other  conscientiously.  They 
anathematize  and  denounce  each  other;  and  this  generation  has  yet  to 
learn  that  charity  is  one  of  the  absolute  necessities  of  the  Christian 
religion.  No  church  has  a  right  to  exist  that  makes  for  itself  a  mono- 
jjoly  of  the  way  to  get  to  heaven.  No  church  is  a  christian  church 
which  would  make  all  men  think  just  as  it  thinks,  or  do  just  what  it 
does.  So  long  as  men's  views  are  different,  so  long  as  men's  tempera- 
ments are  different,  so  long  as  men  are  different  in  their  early  surround- 
ings and  education,  so  long  will  they  be  different  in  their  methods  of 
reaching  heaven  and  God.  And  the  Church  ought  to  say  wath  chris- 
tian charity,  "No  matter,  my  brethren,  what  road  you  take  if  only  it 
points  to  the  mountain  top  and  leads  to  heaven  at  last."  You  may  be 
Catholic  ;  you  may  be  Methodist ;  you  may  be  Presbyterian;  these 
things  are  born  in  you.  They  are  a  part  of  your  nature.  The  bias 
was  given  to  you  by  your  ancestry,  perhaj)S.  What  do  I  care?  If  you 
like  the  forms  of  the  Catholic  church,  be  a  good  Catholic  and  not  a 
sham  one;  and  don't  grow  harsh  or  cruel  towards  me  because  I  can  not 
enter  that  church.  If  you  are  Methodist  in  your  modes  of  thought, 
or  Presbyterian,  then  become  a  good  Methodist  or  a  good  Presbyteriao. 
But  when  you  and  I  meet,  let  us  meet  as  Christians  belonging  to  the 
same  family  and  having  the  same  head  of  the  Church  universal.  Let 
us  not  in  our  several  pulpits  fire  our  hot  shot  at  each  other ;  let  us  liot 
curse  each  other  because  we  are  not  all  made  alike  ;  but  let  us  be  gen- 
tle and  generous  and  kind  and  charitable,  demanding  only  this — every 
man  is  bound  to  use  some  means  to  get  to  heaven  at  last.  No  matter 
what  these  means  are,  if  only  he  belongs  to  Christ  and  thus  to  God — 
if  only  his  heart  beats  heavenward.  I  do  not  care  whether  he  wear  the 
crown  of  the  priest  or  the  gown  of  the  monk,  or  only  the  ordinary 
habit  of  ordinary  man. 

When  I  go  down  Broadway  I  have  the  right  of  passage  from  my 
house  to  the  City  Hall;  and  yet,  although  that  right  is  undisputed,  I 
must  recognize  the  fact  that  there  are  ten  thousand  other  people 
who  are  going  towards  the  same  destination,  and  I  can't  start  on  the 
sidewalk  at  Broadway,  keeping    ray  eye    on    the  distance  and    walk 


HAPPINESS    IN    ACCORD    WITH    LAW.  888 

Straight  along  without  walking  from  one  side  to  the  other.  The  fact 
that  there  are  ten  thousand  other  men  and  women  who  are  going  in 
the  same  direction,  creates  a  new  duty;  so  instead  of  going  straight,  I 
keep  my  eye  on  the  mark,  and  give  way  to  this  man  who  is  walking 
slower  than  I,  and  give  way  to  that  woman,  and  so  I  edge  in  and  out 
all  the  time,  and  by-and-bye  I  get  there.  But  the  trouble  with  the 
christian  world  has  been  that  a  man  starts  and  walks  straightforward, 
and  if  anybody  gets  in  the  way,  he  jostles  him.  The  church  has 
been  supported  altogether  too  much  in  a  style  of  pugilism,  and  not 
according  to  the  method  of  a  mutual  giving  way,  which  will  allow 
every  man  to  be  considerate  of  every  other  man,  while  the  whole  shall 
at  last  reach  the  end  sought. 

Now,  my  dear  friends,  obedience  to  law  insures  Success,  and  it 
insures  happiness,  God  hath  said  that.  I  honestly  believe  that  there 
is  more  happiness  in  the  life  of  an  honest  poor  man  than  there  is  in 
the  life  of  a  dishonest  rich  man.  I  think,  after  all,  when  you  come 
down  to  the  hard  pan  of  fact,  that  real,  solid  happiness  depends  very 
little  upon  one's  surroundings,  and  very  much  less  than  you  and  I  are 
taught  by  public  opinion  to  think,  upon  what  the  world  calls  success 
in  life.  If  your  heart  is  right,  it  is  enough;  and  that  heai't  that  beats 
in  sympathy  with  God  and  with  Christ  cannot  be  wrong  and  cannot 
be  unhappy.  I  do  not  care  what  comes,  though  it  be  poverty  of  the 
direst  kind,  I  envy  the  man  who  with  his  crust,  with  his  single  simple 
crust,  with  to-morrow's  nothingness  staring  him  in  the  face,  can  still  say 
"  a  clean  record  behind  me  and  a  sure  hope  for  to-morrow,"  rather 
than  the  rich  man  who  hugs  and  clutches  his  bags  of  gold,  perhaps  not 
dreaming  that,  in  the  last  day,  he  shall  be  last  and  the  poor  man  shall 
be  first.  There  is  nothing  in  this  world  so  enviable  as  the  possession 
of  character.  Give  me  solid  gold  of  soul,  and  then  if  you  will  give 
me  wealth,  well  enough,  and  if  in  this  world  I  can  win  my  worldly 
l^urpose  and  gain  the  satisfaction  of  my  worldly  ambition  and  not  inter- 
fere with  what  I  must  have  first  of  all,  and  what  I  will  have — and  that 
is  heaven  always,  I  shall  thank  God  for  it,  because  then  I  am,  as  it 
were  doubly  blessed.  But  if  I  can  only  have  one  thing  brethren,  if 
God,  in  his  Providence  will  grant  me  only  one  thing  and  give  me  the 
choice,  will  I  choose  this  Avorld  and  let  the  other  go  ?  No  !  I  have 
common  sense.  I  am  a  man  !  I  am  not  like  a  dog  that  lives  satisfied 
with  the  bone  which  it  gnaws  to-day  and  never  thinks  of  what  is 
coming  to-morrow ;  but  I  forecast  a  great  future,  and  I  remember  that 
this  life  of  ours  is  but  an  hour,  and  that  yonder  life  is  a  thousand 
years.  And  so  I  can  be  miserable  for  an  hour  if  in  that  way  I 
can  be  happy  with  ray  father  for  ever  and  ever.  I  choose  character  ; 
I  choose  manhood  ;  I  choose  integrity ;  I  choose  honesty  of  purpose 


881  GEORGE    H.    HEPWORTH. 

in  this  world  ;  and  no  matter  what  else  I  have  or  what  else  I  lose,  those 
things  I  am  going  to  take  to  heaven  sometime. 

Kow  there  are  no  exceptions  to  this  rule,  young  men.  It  is  a  very 
pleasing  delusion,  as  I  have  said,  which  all  of  ns  have  at  times  until 
we  become  very  thoughtful  about  it,  that  whatever  other  people  have 
suffered  we  shall  escape.  We  think  that  is  one  of  the  hallucinations 
of  our  younger  years,  but  it  is  a  kind  of  will-o'-the-wisp  to  ns.  Young 
people  are  so  very  hopefijl,  they  are  so  elastic  in  temperament  they  are 
so  genial,  so  buoyant.  No  matter  what  other  people  sufler  I  shall 
escape.  Why,  brethren,  a  carpenter  knows  well  enough,  [this  figure  I 
have  given  to  you  before,  but  it  comes  to  ray  mind  now,]  a  carpenter 
knows  well  enough  that  there" is  only  one  way  to  plane  a  board.  He 
takes  it  in  a  rough  state,  and  looks  at  it  very  carefully.  He  puts 
it  upon  the  bench  and  begins  to  plane.  But  he  must  be  very  careful 
to  plane  with  the  grain.  Here  is  a  law.  You  plane  the  way  the  grain 
runs  and  you  get  a  smooth  surface ;  plane  it  the  other  way,  and  all 
those  little  contrary  fibres  in  the  wood  start  right  up,  and  you  can't 
get  the  plane  to  go.  Indeed,  a  giant  couldn't  plane  it,  and  if  he  could 
it  wouldn't  be  worth  any  thing  after  it  was  planed.  It  is  precisely  so 
in  human  life.  You  must  act  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  according 
to  the  law.  You  must  remember  the  grain  of  things  and  plane  that 
way.  And  there  everything  will  go  smooth  and  you  will  get  a  pol- 
ished surface.  But  there  are  so  many  people  in  this  world  with  an 
ounce  of  grumble  right  at  the  very  center  of  their  being.  They  are 
exceedingly  happy  if  everything  goes  exactly  right  with  them,  and 
exceedingly  miserable  if  anything  goes  exactly  wrong  with  them.  I 
want  sometimes, when  I  see  people  of  that  sort,  to  say,  "Why  don't 
you  plane  that  board  with  the  grain  ?  You  will  be  all  right  then  ;  and 
why  will  you  kick  against  the  pricks  all  the  time  ?  Can't  you  under- 
stand that  this  is  God's  world  in  which  you  are  living,  and  that  he 
governs  it  by  a  law,  and  if  you  obey  that  law,  knowing  what  it  is,  your 
life  shall  be  sweet  and  smooth  and  gentle  and  perfect  and  happy,  but 
as  long  as  you  don't  and  persist  in  denying  God's  law,  what  can  you 
expect  ?  " 

I  went  to  the  Morgue  the  other  day.  It  is  a  horrid  place.  I  looked 
through  its  window-panes  and  I  saw  there  two  men  who  had  come  to 
their  death  fearfullv.  They  had  been  crushed  to  death.  What  was  the 
cause  ?  Drink.  And  while  I  stood  there  and  Avhen  I  came  away,  my 
mind  followed  those  men — gray-haired  they  were — both  of  them — pre- 
maturely gray,  their  faces  all  wrinkled  with  crime  as  well  as  by 
time,  perhaps.  I  followed  those  men  back  to  their  cradled  infancy. 
Perhaps  they  had  mothers  as  you  and  I  had,  who  were  pure  and  true 
and  prayerful.  Perhaps  they  had  good  fathers.  Perhaps  when  they 
were  twenty-five  years  of  age  they   were  something  tliat  the  world 


HAPPINESS    IN    ACCORD    WITH    LAW.  885 

laughs  at  carelessly — "just  fost,  you  know,  "  and  that  is  all.  Perhaps 
instead  of  the  solid  religious,  moral  principle  at  the  foundation  of 
their  natures,  they  laughed  lightly  at  all  the  restraints  of  religion ; 
they  said  carelessly  and  often  triumphantly,  "  I  can  take  care  of  my- 
self, I  guess."  So  they  went  into  the  drinking-saloon  and  into  the 
gambling-saloon,  until  those  habits  which  at  first  they  could  easily 
control,  controlled  them — until  those  habits  which  at  twenty  are  like 
little  boys  in  their  grasp,  but  are,  at  twenty-five  or  thirty,  like  giants 
ten  feet  high  holding  them  in  their  clutches,  and  then  father  and  moth- 
er gone  perhaps,  brotlier  and  sister  fading  away  perhaps  in  the  distance, 
they  have  gone  down  and  down  cared  nothing  for  by  any  one,  until  at  last 
they  will  be  buried  out  of  our  sight  forever.  I  want  to  say,  to-night, 
if  there  is  a  single  young  man  in  this  great  audience  who  has  that 
philosophy  of  life,  that  the  end  is  the  morgue*and  you  may  not  be  able 
to  help  it. 

Not  a  man  here,  not  a  man  within  sound  of  my  voice,  but  can  start 
to-night  on  the  road  to  heaven,  and  if  you  are  true  and  honorable 
and  honest  and  persevering,  I  shall  meet  you  there  if  it  is  my  good 
fate  to  be  there  myself.  Aye,  better  than  any  life-insurance  policy, 
the  word  of  the  Almighty.  He  will  gather  you  to  himself  in  good 
time,  and  you  shall  be  crowned  with  the  crown  of  immortality.  But 
if  careless  and  thoughtless  and  reckless  of  yourselves,  with  this  false 
logic  in  your  soul,  this  false  philosophy  of  life  around  about  you  with 
no  desire  for  holy  things,  and  no  pride  for  your  record  and  for  your 
integrity,  God  only  knows  the  end.  You  are  on  the  wrong  road, 
you  are  on  the  down-hill  road,  and  if  you  don't  end  in  the  morgue,  you 
will  end  in  ruin  physically,  intellectually  and  spiritually. 

Ah,  brethren  do  not  think  I  am  too  emphatic.  I  am  telling  you  less 
than  the  truth.  O,  brethren,  there  is  only  one  way  to  make  this  thing 
sure,  and  you  can  make  it  absolutely  sure  by  being  a  real  man,  proud 
of  j'ourself,  standing  erect  in  the  presence  of  your  fellow-men,  and 
having  within  your  bosoms  the  consciousness  of  a  golden  character. 
You  can  get  that  by  going  to  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ.  Not  as  one 
who  speculates  and  makes  a  theory  of  the  master,  but  as  one  who  as 
a  disciple  would  learn  the  secrets  of  success.  Come  to  my  Lord 
and  to  yours  ;  come  to  my  God  and  yours  and  kneel  at  his  throne, 
and  ask  for  his  help  and  then  determine.  O,  that  we  might  all  of  us 
face  that  question  to-night,  and  determine  that  so  far  as  lies  in  your 
power,  you  will  face  heavenward  ;  and  that  every  step  you  take  shall 
show  your  progress  towards  the  glorious  end  which  is  God's  presence 
and  the  immortal  life.     Amen. 


DISCOURSE  LXT. 

ALEXANDER    McCLAREN. 

Some  two  miles  from  the  City  of  Manchester,  England,  stands  a  chapel,  Avhere, 
on  Sundays,  strangers  from  different  parts  of  the  world,  and  the  home  population 
are  drawn  together  by  the  preaching  of  a  man  until  lately  not  known  to  fame. 
The  interior  is  large  and  spacious,  but  as  the  pews  are  roomy,  the  chapel  is  not 
calculated  to  seat  more  than  1,300  to  1,400  with  comfort,  and  possibly  200  or  300 
more  when  there  is  a  crowd.  At  the  time  service  commences  the  chapel  may  not 
be  filled  ;  but  wlien  the  visitors  are  all  seated,  the  pews  downstairs  and  those  in 
the  gallery  are  well  occupied. 

The  preacher  is  Alexander  Maclaren,  jjastor  of  the  Baptist  Church  that  wor- 
ships in  this  house.  He  is  of  a  slim  figure,  with  sharp,  thin  features,  evidently 
not  specially  careful  about  the  primness  of  his  attire,  and  is  about  fifty  years  of 
age,  with  hair  rapidly  turning  gray. 

He  arrests  attention  by  the  earnestness  of  his  utterance  and  gestures,  rather 
than  by  an  imposing  personal  presence  ;  and  particularly  by  the  rare  eloquence 
of  his  discourses. 

To  begin  with,  he  is  Catholic  in  spirit.  He  moves  in  the  higher  air  of  the 
great  encyclical  Christian  doctrines  and  sentiments.  Next,  along  with  a  warm, 
tender  and  devout  emotional  nature,  he  shows  great  originality  in  his  thinlving,  a 
habit  of  presenting  old  subjects  in  new  aspects  and  combinations,  together  with 
uncommon  ingenuity  and  sprightliness  in  working  out  the  minor  details  of  his 
ideas.  This  freshness  of  thought  is  likewise  responded  to  by  a  similar  freshness 
of  phrase — an  escape  from  the  hackneyed  idioms  o*f  a  traditional  religious  patois, 
perpetual  touches  of  beauty  in  single  verbal  strokes,  and  the  frequent  occurrence 
of  the  larger  beauty  of  grand  imaginative  elocjuence.  He  lias  something  of  the 
euggestiveness  and  seminal  power  of  Frederick  Roberston  ;  wliile  his  sermons  are 
wrouglit  and  finished  literary  productions,  instead  of  being  magnificent  literary 
cartoons  like  most  of  the  published  discourses  ,of  the  Brighton  preacher.  Three 
volumes  of  his  sermons  have  been  published  by  Macmillax  &  Co.  N.  Y.,  of 
which  the  following  is  a  favorable  specimen. 


8SS  ALEXANDER    McCLAREN 


THE  STONE  OF  STU3IBLIXG. 

Whosoever  shall  fall  on  this  stone  shall  be  broken  ;  but  on  whomsoever  it 
shall  fall,  it  will  grind  him  to  powder. — Matt.,  xxi.  44 

As  Christ's  ministry  drew  to  its  close,  its  severity  and  its  gentle- 
ness both  increased  ;  its  severity  to  the  class  to  whom  it  was  always 
severe,  and  its  gentleness  to  the  class  from  whom  it  never  turned  away. 
Side  by  side,  through  all  His  manifestation  of  Himself,  there  were  the 
two  aspects  : — "  He  showed  Himself  frovmrd  "  (if  I  may  quote  the 
word)  to  the  self-righteous  and  the  Pharisee  :  and  he  bent  with  more 
than  a  woman's  tenderness  of  yearning  love  over  the  darkness  and 
sinfulness,  which  in  its  great  darkness  dimly  knew  itself  blind,  and  in 
its  sinfulness  stretched  out  a  lame  hand  of  faith,  and  groped  after  a 
divine  deliverer.  Here,  in  my  text,  there  are  only  words  of  severity 
and  awful  foreboding.  Christ  has  been  telling  those  Pharisees  and 
priests  that  the  kingdom  is  to  be  taken  from  them,  and  given  to  a  nation 
that  brings  forth  the  fruits  thereof.  He  interprets  for  them  an  Old 
Testament  figure,  often  recurring,  which  we  read  in  the  118th  Psalm  ; 
(and  I  may  just  say,  in  passing,  that  we  get  here  His  interpretation 
of  that  psalm,  and  the  vindication  of  our  application  of  it,  and  other 
similar  ones,  to  Him  and  His  office)  "  The  stone  which  the  builders 
rejected,"  said  he,  "is  become  the  head  of  the  corner;  and  then,  falling 
back  on  other  Old  Testament  uses  of  the  same  figure,  He  weaves  into 
one  the  whole  of  them — that  in  Isaiah  about  the  "  sure  foundation,"  and 
that  in  Daniel  about  "  the  stone  cut  out  Avithout  hands,  which 
became  a  great  mountain,"  crushing  down  all  opposition, — and  centres 
them  all  in  Himself  ;  as  fulfilled  in  Himself,  in  His  person  and  His 
work. 

The  two  clauses  of  my  text  figuratively  point  to  two  different 
classes  of  operation  on  the  rejectors  of  the  Gospel.  What  are  these 
two  classes?  "Whosoever  shall  fall  on  this  stone  shall  be  broken; 
but  on  whomsoever  it  shall  fall,  it  will  grind  him  to  powder."  In  the 
one  case,  the  stone  is  represented  as  passive,  lying  quiet;  in  the  other 
it  has  got  motion.  In  the  one  case,  the  man  stumbles  and  hurts  him- 
self; a  remediable  injury,  a  self-inflicted  injury,  a  natural  injury, 
without  the  active  operation  of  Christ  to  produce  it  at  all ;  in  tlie  other 
case  the  injury  is  worse  than  remediable,  it  is  utter,  absolute,  grinding 
destruction,  and  it  comes  from  the  active  operation  of  the  "  stone  of 
stumbling."  That  is  to  say,  the  one  class  represents  the  present  hurts 
and  harms  wliich,  by  the  natural  operation  of  the  thing,  without  the 
action  of  Christ  judicially  at  all,  every  man  receives  in  the  very  act 
of  rejecting  the  Gospel  ;  and  the  other  represents  the  ultimate  issue 
of  that  rejection,  which    rejection   is   darkened   into    opposition   and 


THE    STONE    OF    STUMBLING.  SS9 

fixed  liostility,  Avhen  tlie  stone  tliat  was  laid  "for  a  foundation  "  has 
got  wings  (if  I  may  so  say),  and  conies  down  in  judgment,  crushing 
and  destroying  the  antagonist  utterly.  "Whosoever  falls  on  this 
stone  is  broken,"  here  and  now  ;  and  "  on  whomsovever  it  shall  fall, 
it  will  grind  him  to  powder,"  hereafter  and  yonder  ! 

Taking,  then,  into  account  the  weaving  together  in  this  passage 
of  the  three  figures  from  the  Old  Testament  to  which  I  have  already 
referred, — the  rejected  stone,  the  foundation,  and  the  mountain-stone 
of  Daniel,  and  looking  in  the  light  of  these,  at  the  twofold  issues,  one 
present  and  one  future,  Avhich  the  text  distinctly  brings  before  us,^ 
we  have  just  three  points  to  which  I  ask  your  attention  now.  First, 
Every  man  has  some  kind  of  contact  with  Christ.  Secondh/,  Rejec- 
tion of  Him,  here  and  now,  is  harm  and  maiming.  And,  lastly. 
Rejection  of  Him,  hereafter  and  yonder,  is  hopeless,  endless,  utter 
destruction. 

In  the  first  place.  Every  max  has  some  kind  of  connection  with 
Christ.  I  am  not  going  to  enter  at  all  now  upon  any  question  about 
the  condition  of  the  "  dark  places  of  the  earth  "  where  the  Gospel  has 
not  come  as  a  well-known  preached  message  ;  we  have  nothing  to  do 
with  that  :  the  principles  on  which  they  are  judged  is  not  the  question 
before  us  now.  I  am  speaking  exclusively  about  persons  Avho  have 
heard  the  word  of  salvation,  and  are  dwelling  in  the  midst  of  what  avo 
call  a  Christian  land.  Christ  is  offered  to  each  of  us,  in  good  faith  on 
God's  part,  as  a  means  of  salvation,  a  foundation  on  which  we  may 
build.  A  man  is  free  to  accept  or  to  reject  that  offer.  If  lie  reject 
it,  he  has  not  thei-eby  cut  himself  off"  from  all  contact  and  connection 
with  that  rejected  Saviour,  but  he  still  sustains  a  relation  to  Him  ;  and 
the  message  that  he  has  refused  to  believe,  is  exercising  an  influence 
upon  his  character  and  his  destiny. 

Christ  comes,  I  say,  offered  to  us  all  in  good  faith  on  the  part  of 
God,  as  a  foundation  upon  which  we  may  build.  And  then  comes  in 
that  strange  mystoiy,  that  a  man,  consciously  free,  turns  away  from 
the  offered  mercy,  and  makes  Him  that  was  intended  to  be  the  basis 
of  his  life,  the  foundation  of  his  hope,  the  rock  on  which,  steadfast  and 
serene,  he  should  build  up  a  temple-home  for  his  soul  to  dwell  in, — 
makes  Him  a  stumbling-stone  against  which,  by  rejection  and  unbelief, 
he  breaks  himself  ! 

My  friend,  Avill  you  let  me  lay  this  one  thing  upon  your  heart, — 
you  cannot  hinder  the  Gospel  from  influencing  you  somehow.  Taking 
it  in  its  lowest  aspects,  the  Gospel  is  one  of  the  forces  of  modern 
society,  an  element  in  our  present  civilization.  It  is  everywhere,  it 
obtrudes  itself  on  you  at  every  turn,  the  air  is  saturated  with  its  influ- 
ence. To  be  unaffected  by  such  an  all-pervading  phenomenon  is 
impossible.     To  no  individual  member  of  the  great  whole  of  a  nation 


890  ALEXANDER  McCLAREN. 

is  it  given  to  isolate  himself  utterly  from  the  community.  Whether 
he  oppose  or  whether  he  acquiesce  in  common  opinions,  to  denude 
himself  of  the  possessions  which  belong  in  common  to  his  age  and 
state  of  society  is  in  either  case  impracticable.  "That  which  cometh 
into  your  mind,"  said  one  of  the  prophets  to  the  Jews  who  were  trying 
to  cut  themselves  loose  from  their  national  faith  and  their  ancestral 
prerogatives,  "  That  which  cometh  into  your  mind  shall  not  be  a  tall, 
that  ye  say,  We  will  be  as  the  heathen,  as  the  families  of  the  countries 
to  serve  wood  and  stone."  Vain  dream  !  You  can  no  more  say,  I 
will  pass  the  Gospel  by,  and  it  shall  be  nothing  to  me,  I  will  simply 
let  it  alone,  than  you  can  say,  I  will  shut  myself  up  from  other  influ- 
ences proper  to  my  time  and  nation.  You  cannot  go  back  to  tlie  old 
naked  barbarism,  and  you  cannot  reduce  the  influence  of  Christianity, 
even  considered  merely  as  one  of  the  characteristics  of  the  times,  to  a 
zero.  You  may  fancy  you  are  letting  it  alone,  but  it  does  not  let  you 
alone  ;  it  is  here,  and  you  cannot  shut  yourself  off  from  it. 

But  it  is  not  merely  as  a  subtle  and  diffused  influence  that  the 
Gospel  exercises  a  permanent  effect  upon  us.  It  is  presented  to  each 
of  us  here  individually,  in  the  definite  form  of  an  actual  ofter  of  salvation 
for  each,  and  of  an  actual  demand  of  trust  fi-om  each.  The  words  pass 
into  our  souls,  and  thenceforward,  it  can  never  be  the  same  as  if  they 
had  not  been  there.  The  smallest  particle  of  light  falling  on  the  sensi- 
tive plate  produces  a  chemical  change  that  can  never  be  undone  again, 
and  the  light  of  Christ's  love  once  brought  to  the  knowledge  and 
presented  for  the  acceptance  of  a  soul,  stamps  on  it  an  ineffaceable  sign 
of  its  having  been  there.  The  Gospel  once  heard,  is  always  the  Gospel 
which  has  been  heard.  Nothing  can  alter  that.  Once  heard,  it  is 
henceforward  a  perpetual  element  in  the  whole  condition,  character 
and  destiny  of  the  hearer. 

Christ  does  something  to  every  one  of  us.  His  Gospel  will  tell 
upon  you,  it  is  telling  upon  you.  If  you  disbelieve  it,  it  is  not  the 
same  as  if  you  had  never  heard  it.  Never  is  the  box  of  ointment 
opened  without  some  savour  from  it  abiding  in  every  nostril  to  which 
its  odor  is  wafted.  Only  the  alternative,  the  awful  "  either,  or,"  is 
open  for  each — the  "  savor  of  life  unto  life,  or  the  savor  of  death  unto 
death,"  To  come  back  to  the  illustration  of  the  text,  Christ  is  some 
thing,  and  does  something  to  every  one  of  us.  He  is  either  the  rock 
on  which  I  build,  poor,  weak,  sinful  creature  as  I  am,  getting  security, 
and  sancity  and  strength  from  Him,  I  being  a  living  stone,  built  upon 
"  the  living  stone,"  and  partaking  of  the  vitality  of  the  foundation;  or 
else  He  is  the  other  thing,  "  a  stone  of  stumbling  and  a  rock  of  offence 
to  them  which  stumble  at  the  word."  Christ  stands  for  ever  in  some 
kind  of  relation  to,  and  exercises  for  ever  some  kind  of  influence  on, 
every  man  tliat  has  heard  the  Gospel. 


THE    STONE    OF    STUMBLING.  891 

And  now,  secondly,  The  Immediate  issue  of  rejectiox  of  Him  is 
LOSS  AND  MAIMING.  "  Whosoevor  shall  fall  on  tliis  stone  shall  be 
broken."  Just  think  for  a  moment,  by  way  of  illustrating  this 
principle,  first  of  all,  of  the /)0S2Yive  harm  which  you  do  yourself  in 
the  act  of  turning  away  from  the  mercy  offered  you  in  Christ:  and 
then  think  for  a  moment  of  the  negatide  loss  which  you  sustain  by  the 
same  act. 

The />os^if^ye  harm.  Am  I  uncharitable  when  I  say  that  no  man 
ever  yet  j^ctss  I  veil/  neglected  i\\e  message  of  love  in  God's  Son:  but  that 
always  this  is  the  rude  outline  of  the  experience  of  people  that  know 
Avhat  it  is  to  have  a  Saviour  offered  to  them,  and  know  what  it  is  to 
put  Him  away — that  there  is  a  movement  feeble  and  transitory  of 
heart  and  will ;  that  Conscience  says,  "  Thou  oughtest ; "  that  Will 
says,  "  I  would  ; "  that  the  heart  is  touched  by  some  sense  of  that 
great  and  gentle  vision  of  light  and  love  which  passes  before  the  eye; 
that  the  man,  as  it  were,  like  some  fever-ridden  patient,  lifts  himself 
up  for  an  instant  from  the  bed  on  which  he  is  lying,  and  puts  out  a 
hand,  and  then  falls  back  again,  the  vacillating,  fevered,  paralysed 
will  recoiling  from  the  resolution  ;  and  the  conscience  having  power 
, to  say,  "Thou  oughtest,"  but  no  power  to  enforce  the  execution  of 
its  decrees;  and  the  heart  turning  away  from  the  salvation  that  it 
would  have  found  in  the  love  of  love,  to  the  loss  that  it  finds  in  the 
love  of  self  and  earth  ?  Or  in  other  words,  is  it  not  true  that  every 
man  that  rejects  Christ  does  in  simple  verity  reject  Him,  and  not 
merely  neglect  Him;  that  there  is  always  an  effort,  that  there  is  a 
struggle,  feeble  perhaps,  but  real,  which  ends  in  the  turning  away  '? 
It  is  not  that  you  stand  there,  and  simply  let  Him  go  past.  That  were 
bad  enough;  but  it  is  more  than  that.  It  is  that  you  turn  your  back 
upon  Him  !  It  is  not  that  His  hand  is  laid  on  yours,  and  yours 
remains  dead  and  cold,  and  does  not  open  to  clasp  it ;  but  it  is  that 
His  hand  being  laid  on  yours,  you  clench  yours  the  tighter,  and  will 
not  have  it.  And  so  every  man  (I  believe)  that  ever  rejects  Christ  does 
these  things  thereby — wounds  his  own  conscience,  hardens  his  own 
heart,  makes  himself  a  worse  man,  just  because  he  has  had  a  glimpse, 
and  has  Avillingly,  and  almost  consciously,  "  loved  darkness  rather  than 
light."  Oh,  brethren,  the  message  of  love  can  never  come  into  a 
human  soul,  and  pass  away  from  it  unreceived,  without  leaving  that 
spirit  worse,  with  all  its  lowest  characteristics  strengthened,  and  all 
its  best  ones  depressed,  by  the  fact  of  rejection.  I  have  nothing  to  do 
now  with  pursuing  that  process  to  its  end  ;  but  the  natural  result — if 
there  were  no  judgment  at  all,  if  there  were  no  movement  ever  given 
to  the  stone  that  you  are  to  build  on — the  natural  result  of  the  simple 
rejection  of  the  Gospel  is  that,  bit  by  bit,  all  the  lingering  remains  of 
nobleness  that  hover  about  the  man,  like  scent  about  a   broken  vase. 


892  ALEXANDER    McCLAREN. 

shall  pass  away ;  and  that,  step  by  step,  through  the  simple  process 
of  saying,  "  I  will  not  have  Christ  to  rule  over  me,"  the  whole  being 
shall  degenerate,  until  manhood  becomes  devilhood,  and  the  soul  is 
lost  by  its  own  want  of  faith.  Unbelief  is  its  own  judgment; 
unbelief  is  its  own  condemnation  ;  unbelief,  as  sin,  is  punished,  like 
all  other  sins,  by  the  perpetuation  of  deeper  and  darker  forms  of 
itself.  Every  time  that  you  stifle  a  conviction,  fight  down  a  convic- 
tion, or  din  away  a  conviction;  and  every  time  that  you  feebly  move 
towards  the  decision,  "  I  will  trust  Him,  and  love  Him,  and  be  His," 
yet  fail  to  realize  it,  you  have  harmed  your  soul,  you  have  made 
yourself  a  worse  man,  you  have  lowered  the  tone  of  your  conscience, 
you  have  enfeebled  your  will,  you  have  made  your  heart  harder  against 
love,  you  have  drawn  another  horny  scale  over  the  eye,  that  will 
prevent  you  from  seeing  the  light  that  is  yonder;  you  have  as  much 
as  in  you  is,  withdrawn  from  God,  and  approximated  to  the  other 
pole  of  the  universe  (if  I  may  say  that),  to  the  dark  and  deadly 
antagonist  of  mercy,  and  goodness,  and  truth,  and  grace.  "  Whoso- 
ever falls  on  this  stone,"  by  the  natural  result  of  his  unbelief,  "  shall 
be  broken"  and  maimed,  and  shall  mar  his  own  nature. 

I  need  not  dwell  on  the  negative  evil  results  of  unbelief;  the  loss 
of  that  which  is  the  only  guide  for  a  man,  the  taking  away,  or  rather 
the  failing  to  possess,  that  great  love  above  us,  that  Divine  Spirit  in 
us,  by  which  only  we  are  ever  made  what  we  ought  to  be.  This  only 
I  would  leave  with  you,  in  this  part  of  my  subject.  Whoever  is  not  in 
Christ  is  maimed.  Only  he  that  is  "  a  man  in  Christ"  has  come  "  to 
the  measure  of  the  stature  of  a  perfect  man."  There,  and  there  alone, 
do  we  get  the  power  which  will  make  us  full-grown.  There  alone  does 
the  soul  get  hold  of  that  good  soil  in  Avhich,  growing,  it  becomes  as  a 
rounded,  perfect  tree,  with  leaves  and  fruits  in  their  season.  All  other 
men  are  half-men,  quarter-men,  fragments  of  men,  parts  of  humanity 
exaggerated,  and  contorted,  and  distorted  from  the  reconciling  whole 
which  the  Christian  ought  to  be,  and  in  proportion  to  his  Christianity 
is  on  the  road  to  be,  and  one  day  will  assuredly  and  actually  be,  a 
"complete  and  entire  man,  wanting  nothing;  nothing  maimed,  noth- 
ing broken,  the  realization  of  the  ideal  of  humanity,  the  renewed  copy 
"  of  the  second  Adam,  the  Lord  from  heaven  !  " 

There  is  another  consideration  closely  connected  with  this  second 
part  of  my  subject,  that  I  will  just  mention,  and  pass  on.  Not  only 
that  by  the  act  of  rejection  of  Christ  do  we  harm  and  maim  ourselves, 
but  also  that  all  attempts  at  opposition — formal  opposition — to  the 
Gospel  as  a  system,  stand  self-convicted  and  self-condemned  to  speedy 
decay.  AVhat  a  commentary  upon  that  word,  "Whosoever  falls  on 
this  stone  shall  be  broken,"  is  the  whole  history  of  the  heresies  of  the 
Church  and  the  assaults  of  unbelief!     Man   after  man,   rich  in  mfts. 


THE    STOXE    OF    STUMBLING.  893 

endowed  often  with  far  larger  and  noLler  faculties  than  the  people 
that  oppose  him,  with  indomitable  perseverance,  a  martyr  to  his  error, 
sets  himself  up  against  the  truth  that  is  sphered  in  Jesus  Christ;  and 
the  great  Divine  message  simply  goes  on  its  way,  and  all  the  babble- 
ment and  noise  is  like  so  many  bats  flying  against  a  light,  or  the  wild 
sea-birds  that  come  sweeping  up  in  the  tempest  and  the  night,  against 
the  hospitable  Pharos  that  is  upon  the  rock,  and  smite  themselves  dead 
against  it.  Sceptics  well-known  in  their  generation,  who  made 
people's  hearts  tremble  for  the  ark  of  God,  what  has  become  of  them  ? 
Their  books  lie  dusty  and  undisturbed  on  the  top  shelf  of  libraries  ; 
while  there  the  Bible  stands,  with  all  the  scribblings  wiped  oif  the 
page,  as  though  they  had  never  been  !  Opponents  fire  their  small 
shot  against  the  great  Rock  of  ages,  and  the  little  pellets  fall  flattened, 
and  only  scale  ofi"  a  bit  of  the  moss  that  has  gathered  there !  My 
brother,  let  the  history  of  the  past,  with  other  deeper  thoughts,  teach 
you  and  me  a  very  calm  and  triumphant  confidence  about  all  that 
jjeople  say  now-a-days;  for  all  the  modern  opposition  to  this  Gospel 
will  go  as  all  the  past  has  done,  and  the  newest  systems  which  cut  and 
carve  at  Christianity,  will  go  to  the  tomb  where  all  the  rest  have  gone; 
and  dead  old  infidelities  will  rise  up  from  their  thrones,  and  say  to 
the  bran-new  ones  of  this  generation,  when  their  day  is  worked  out, 
"  Ah,  are  ye  also  become  weak  as  we?  art  thou  also  become  like  one 
of  us?"  "Whosoever  shall  fall  on  this  stone  shall  be  broken:" 
personally  he  will  be  harmed;  and  his  opinions,  and  his  books,  and 
his  talk,  and  all  his  argumentation,  will  come  to  nothing,  like  the 
waves  that  break  into  impotent  foam  against  the  rocky  clifts. 

Last  of  all,  The  issue,  the  ultimate  issue  of  unbelief  is  ikke- 

MEDIABLE  DESTRUCTION   WHEN    ClIEIST    BEGINS    TO    MOVE.       The    former 

clause  had  spoken  about  the  passive  operation  of  unbelief  while  the 
Gospel  is  being  preached  ;  the  latter  clause  speaks  about  the  active 
agency  of  Christ  when  the  end  shall  have  come,  and  the  preaching  of 
the  Gospel  shall  have  merged  into  the  act  of  judgment.  I  do  not 
want  to  dwell,  brethren,  upon  that  thought:  it  seems  to  me  far  too 
awful  a  one  to  be  handled  by  my  hands,  at  any  rate.  Let  us  leave  it 
in  the  vagueness  and  dreadfulness  of  the  words  of  Ilim  that  never 
spake  exaggerated  words,  and  who,  when  He  said,  "It  shall  grind 
him  to  powder,"  meant  (as  it  seems  to  me)  nothing  less  than  a 
destruction  which  contrasted  with  the  former  remediable  wounding 
and  breaking,  was  a  destruction  utter,  and  hopeless,  and  everlasting, 
and  without  remedy.  Ground — ground  to  powder  !  Any  life  left  in 
that  ?  any  gathering  up  of  that,  and  making  a  man  of  it  again  ? 
All  the  humanity  battered  out  of  it,  and  the  life  clean  gone  from  it  ! 
Does  not  that  sound  very  much  like  everlasting  destruction  "  from 
the  presence  of  God  and  from  the  glory  of  His  power  ?  "  Christ,  silent 


894  ALEXANDER  McCLAREN. 

now,  will  begin  to  s]ocak  ;  passive  now,  will  begin  to  act.  The  stone 
comes  down,  and  the  fall  of  it  will  be  awful !  I  remember,  away  up 
in  a  lonely  Highland  valley,  where  beneath  a  tall  black  cliff,  all 
weather-Avorn,  and  cracked,  and  seamed,  there  lies  at  the  foot,  resting 
on  the  greensward  that  creejDS  round  its  base,  a  huge  rock,  that  has 
fallen  from  the  face  of  the  precipice.  A  shepherd  was  passing  beneath 
it;  and  suddenly,  when  the  finger  of  God's  will  touched  it,  and  rent 
it  from  its  ancient  bed  in  the  everlasting  rock,  it  came  down,  leaping 
andb  .inding  from  pinnacle  to  i^innacle — and  it  fell;  and  the  man 
that  was  beneath  it  is  there  now  !  "  Ground  to  powder."  Ah,  my 
brethren,  that  is  not  my  illustration — that  is  Christ's.  Therefore  I 
say  to  2/ot<,  since  all  that  stand  against  Him  shall  become  "as  the 
chaif  of  the  summer  threshing-floor,"  and  be  swept  utterly  away,  make 
Him  the  foundation  on  which  you  build;  and  when  the  storm  sweeps 
away  every  "  refuge  of  lies,"  you  will  be  safe  and  serene,  builded  upon 
the  Rock  of  ages. 


DISCOURSE  IXVI. 

T.    DEWITT    TALMAQ-E. 

It  is  not  often  in  this  or  any  country  that  a  pulpit  orator  achieves  so  wide  a 
reputation  so  early  in  life  as  has  the  subject  of  this  sketch.  Pastor  of  the  Brook- 
lyn Tabernacle  Congregation  which  posseses  the  largest  Protestant  church  edifice  in 
this  country,  preaching  as  he  does  to  the  largest  audience  in  America,  and  widely 
known  throughout  Great  Britain,  Mr.  Talmage  is  yet  young  in  years,  having  been 
born  in  Somerset  County  New  Jersey,  in  1834,  and  being  consequently  in  his 
fortieth  year. 

Entering  upon  his  pastoral  work  in  the  little  town  of  Belleville  New  Jersey,  Mr. 
Talmage  from  thence  was  called  to  Syracuse.  Subsequently  he  removed  to  Phila- 
delphia, during  his  residence  in  which  city  he  constantly  preached  to  the  largest 
audiences,  and  impressed  upon  the  church  life  of  that  place  the  energy  and  marked 
characteristics  of  his  later  and  larger  opportunity  in  Brooklyn.  The  history  of  his 
Brooklyn  ministry  is  a  compressed  history  of  less  than  four  years,  and  in  every 
■way  a  remarkable  one.  At  the  time  of  their  calling  him,  the  Central  Presbyterian 
Church  of  Brooklyn,  comprised  a  membership  of  only  nineteen.  During  the  fifteen 
months  in  which  he  preached  in  the  old  building  he  had  it  thronged,  it  is  strictly 
true  to  say,  to  the  very  curbs  of  the  street.  And  then  was  projected  the  building 
of  the  fir.<t  Brooklyn  Tabernacle,  with  an  original  seating  capacity  of  three  thou- 
sand five  hundred,  which  was  subsequently  enlarged  to  four  thousand  one  hun- 
d»ed.  But  a  marked  feature  which  Mr.  Talmage  had  retained  was  the  creation 
of  a  free  church.  Seats  being  arranged  in  the  order  of  application,  and,  as  he 
stated  in  his  address  at  the  dedication  of  his  new  Tabernacle,  without  any  regard 
to  persons. 

This  building  which  was  constructed  of  iron,  and  built  in  the  form  of  an  amphi- 
theatre, was  dedicated  in  September,  1870.  In  two  years  and  three  months  from 
that  time,  it  was  destroyed  by  fire.  Tlie  new  building  to  take  its  place  is  consti- 
tuted of  brick  with  brown-stone  trimmings,  was  completed  and  dedicated  on  the 
22d  day  of  February,  1874,  just  one  year  and  two  months  after  the  destruction  of 
the  old  temple. 

Mr.  Talmage's  manner  of  preaching  is  marked  by  simplicity  and  great  fervor 
of  imagination.  He  preaches  the  oldfashioned  literal  gospel,  seeking  to  declare  the 
whole  counsel  of  God.  His  sermons  abound  in  intensity  of  expression,  in  rare 
beauty  of  illustration  and  description,  in  close  logical  sequence,  and  in  the  citation 
of  incidents  and  events  which  never  fail  to  carry  the  truth  straight  home  to  the 
hearts  of  his  hearers.     He  never  gets  between  his  subject  and  his  audience. 

In  addition  to  his  church  duties,  he  has  organized  and  assumed  the  charge  of  a 
free  Lay  College  for  educating  young  men  for  the  ministry.  In  this  college  there 
are  now  three  hundred  students  who  will  soon  be  ready  for  the  ministry,  and 
57 


800  T.    DEWITT    TALMA  GE. 

most  if  not  all  of  whom  could  secure  collegiate  education  in  no  other  way 
Besides  these  extensive  duties,  he  is  Editor  in  Chief  of  TJie  Christian  at  Worlc. 
Mr.  Talmage's  sermons  are  published  in  this  paper,  and  republished  in  the 
London  Clirutian  Age.  His  editorials  in  The  Christian  at  W(>i'k  are  also  repub- 
lished in  the  London  Christian  World,  and  Dr.  Joseph  Parker's  Christian  Shield, 


AS  THE  STARS  FOREVER. 


"  They  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine  as  the  stars  forever  and 
ever." — Daniel  xii.,  3. 

Every  man  has  a  thousand  roots  and  a  thousand  branches.  His 
roots  reach  down  through  all  the  earth ;  his  branches  spread  through 
all  the  heavens.  He  .speaks  with  voice,  with  eye,  with  hand,  with  foot. 
His  silence  often  is  thundei*,  and  his  life  is  an  anthem  or  a  doxology. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  negative  influence.  We  are  all  positive  in 
the  place  we  occupy,  making  the  world  better  or  making  it  wors.e,  on 
the  Lord's  side  or  on  the  devil's,  making  up  reasons  for  our  blessedness 
or  banishment ;  and  we  have  already  done  a  mighty  work  in  peopling 
heaven  or  hell.  I  hear  peoj^le  tell  of  what  they  are  going  to  do.  A 
man  who  has  burned  down  a  city  might  as  well  talk  of  some  evil  that 
he  expects  to  do,  or  a  man  who  has  saved  an  empire  might  as  well  talk 
of 'some  good  that  he  expects  to  do.  By  the  force  of  your  evil 
influence  you  have  already  consumed  infinite  values,  or  you  have,  by 
the  power  of  a  right  influence,  won  whole  kingdoms  for  God. 

About  the  future  sorrow  of  those  who  have  wrought  infamously 
I  speak  not  now;  but  of  the  reward  of  those  who  turn  many  to 
righteousness  I  will  speak,  if  God  will  help  me. 

It  woiild  be  absurd  for  me  to  stand  here,  and,  by  elaborate  argument 
prove  that  the  world  is  off  the  track.  You  might  as  well  stand  at  the 
foot  of  an  embankment,  amid  the  wreck  of  a  capsized  rail-train,  proving 
by  elaboi-ate  argument  that  something  is  out  of  order.  Adam  tumbled 
over  the  embankment  sixty  centuries  ago,  and  the  whole  race,  in  one 
long  train,  has  gone  on  tumbling  in  the  same  direction.  Crash  !  crash  ! 
The  only  question  now  is.  By  what  leverage  can  the  crushed  thing  be 
lifted  ?     By  what  hammer  may  the  fragments  be  reconstructed  ? 

I  want  to  show  you  how  we  may  turn  many  to  righteousness,  and 
what  will  be  our  future  pay  for  so  doing. 

First:  We  may  turn  them  by  the  charm  of  a  rir/ht  example.  A 
child,  coming  from  a  filthy  home,  was  taught  at  school  to  wash  its  face. 
It  went  home  so  much  improved  in  appearance  that  its  mother  washed 
/ter  face.     And  when  the  father  of  the  household  came  home,  and  saw 


AS    THE    STARS    FOREVER.  S97 

the  iniprovcment  in  domestic  appearance,  he  waslicd  his  face.  The 
neighbors  happening  in,  saw  tlie  cliange,  and  tried  the  same  experiment, 
until  all  that  street  was  purified,  and  the  next  street  copied  its 
example,  and  the  whole  city  felt  the  result  of  one  school-boy  washing 
his  face.  That  is  a  fable,  by  which  we  set  forth  that  the  best  way  to 
get  the  world  washed  of  its  sins  and  pollution  is  to  have  our  own  heart 
and  life  cleansed  and  purified.  A  man  with  grace  in  his  heart,  and 
Christian  cheerfulness  in  his  face,  and  holy  consistency  in  his  behavior, 
is  a  perpetual  sermon;  and  the  sermon  difters  from  others  in  that  it  has 
but  one  head,  and  the  longer  it  runs,  the  better.  There  are  honest 
men  who  walk  down  Wall  Street,  making  the  teeth  of  iniquity  chatter. 
There  are  luippy  men  who  go  into  a  sick-room,  and,  by  a  look,  help 
the  broken  bone  knit,  and  the  excited  nerves  drop  to  calm  beating. 
There  are  pure  men  Avhose  presence  silences  the  tongue  of  uncleanness. 
The  mightiest  agent  of  good  on  earth  is  a  consistent  Christian.  I  like 
the  Bible  folded  between  lids  of  cloth,  of  calf-skin,  or  of  morocco,  but 
I  like  it  better  when,  in  the  shape  of  a  man,  it  goes  out  into  the  world 
— a  Bible  illustrated.  Courage  is  beautiful  to  read  about;  but  rather 
would  I  see  a  man  with  all  the  world  against  him  confident  as  though 
all  the  world  were  for  him.  Patience  is  beautiful  to  read  about ;  but 
rather  would  I  see  a  bufieted  soul  calmly  waiting  for  the  time  of 
deliverance.  Faith  \%  beautiful  to  read  about ;  but  rather  would  I 
find  a  man  in  the  midnight  walking  straight  on  as  though  he  saw  every 
thing.  Oh,  how  many  souls  have  been  turned  to  God  by  the  charm 
of  a  right  example  ! 

When,  in  the  Mexican  War,  the  troops  were  wavering,  a  general 
rose  in  his  stirrups  and  dashed  into  the  enemy's  lines,  shouting,  "  Men, 
follov^r^  They,  seeing  his  courage  and  disposition,  dashed  on  after 
him,  and  gained  the  victory.  What  men  want  to  rally  them  for  God 
is  an  example  to  lead  them.  All  your  commands  to  others  to  advance 
amount  to  nothing  so  long  as  you  stay  behind.  To  affect  them  aright, 
you  need  to  start  for  heaven  yourself,  looking  back  only  to  give  the 
stirring  cry  of  Men,  folloav  ! 

Again :  We  may  turn  many  to  righteousness  by  prayer.  There  is 
no  such  detective  as  prayer,  for  no  one  can  hide  away  from  it.  It  puts 
its  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  a  man  ten  thousand  miles  off.  It  alights 
on  a  sliip  mid-Atlantic.  The  little  child  can  not  understand  the  law 
of  electricity,  or  how  the  telegrai)hic  operator,  by  touching  the 
instrument  here,  may  dart  a  message  under  the  sea  to  another 
continent ;  nor  can  we,  with  our  small  intellect,  understand  how  the 
touch  of  a  Christian's  prayer  ghall  instantly  strike  a  soul  on  the  other 
side  of  the  earth.  You  take  ship  and  go  to  some  other  country,  and  get 
there  at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  You  telegraph  to  New  York, 
and  the  message  gets  here  at  six  o'clock  in  the  same  morning.     In 


898  T.    DEW  ITT    TALMAGE. 

Other  words,  it  seems  to  arrive  here  five  liours  before  it  started. 
Like  that  is  prayer.  God  says,  "_Z>e/bre  they  call,  I  will  hear."  To 
overtake  a  loved  one  on  the  road,  you  may  spur  up  a  lathered  steed 
until  he  shall  outrace  the  one  that  brought  the  news  to  Ghent ;  but  a 
prayer  shall  catch  it  at  one  gallop.  A  boy  running  away  fron\  home 
may  take  the  midnight  train  fx-om  the  country  village,  and  reach  the 
seaport  in  time  to  gain  the  ship  that  sails  on  the  morrow;  but  a 
mother's  prayer  will  be  on  the  deck  to  meet  him,  and  in  the  hammock 
before  he  swings  into  it,  and  at  the  capstan  before  he  winds  the  rope 
around  it,  and  on  the  sea,  against  the  sky,  as  the  Vessel  plows  on 
toward  it.  There  is  a  mightiness  in  prayer.  George  Mtiller  prayed  a 
company  of  poor  boys  together,  and  then  he  prayed  up  an  asylum  in 
which  they  might  be  sheltered.  He  turned  his  face  toward  Edinburg 
and  prayed,  and  there  came  a  thousand  pounds.  He  turned  his  face 
toward  London  and  prayed,  and  there  came  a  thousand  pounds.  He 
turned  his  face  toward  Dublin  and  prayed,  and  there  came  a  thousand 
pounds.  The  breath  of  Elijah's  prayer  blew  all  the  clouds  off  the  sky, 
and  it  was  dry  weather.  The  breath  of  Elijah's  prayer  blew  all  the 
clouds  together,  and  it  was  wet  weather.  Prayer,  in  Daniel's  time, 
walked  the  cave  as  a  lion-tamer.  It  reached  up,  and  took  the  sun  by 
its  golden  bit,  and  stopped  it.  We  have  all  yet  to  try  the  full  poAver 
of  prayer.  The  time  will  come  when  the  American  Church  will  pray 
with  its  face  toward  the  west,  and  all  the  prairies  and  inland  cities 
will  surrender  to  God ;  and  will  pray  with  face  toward  the  sea,  and 
all  the  islands  and  shij^s  will  become  Christian.  Parents  who  have 
Wayward  sons  will  get  down  on  their  knees  and  say,  "  Lord,  send  my 
boy  home,"  and  the  boy  in  Canton  shall  get  right  up  from  the  gaming, 
table,  and  go  down  to  the  wharf  to  find  out  which  ship  starts  first  for 
America. 

Not  one  of  us  knows  yet  how  to  pray.  All  we  have  done  as  yet. 
has  only  been  pottering,  and  guessing,  and  experimenting.  A  boy 
gets  hold  of  his  father's  saw  and  hammer,  and  tries  to  make  something, 
but  it  is  a  poor  affair  that  he  makes.  The  father  comes  and  takes  the 
same  saw  or  hammer,  and  builds  the  house  or  the  ship.  In  the  child- 
hood of  our  Christian  faith,  we  make  but  p(>or  work  with  these 
weapons  of  prayer;  but  when  we  come  to  the  stature  of  men  in  Christ 
Jesus,  then,  under  these  implements,  the  temple  of  God  will  rise,  and 
the  Avorld's  redemption  will  be  launched.  God  cares  not  for  the 
lengtli  of  our  prayers,  or  the  number  of  our  prayers,  or  the  beauty  of 
our  prayers,  or  the  place  of  our  prayers;  but  it  is  the  faith  in  them 
that  tells.  Believing  prayer  soars  higher  than  the  lark  ever  sang  ; 
plunges  deeper  than  diving-bell  ever  sank;  darts  quicker  than  lightning 
ever  flashed.  Though  we  have  used  only  the  back  of  this  Avcapon 
instead  of  the  edge,  what  marvels  have  been  wrought !     If  saved,  wo 


AS    THE    STARS    FOREVER.  S90 

are  all  the  captives  of  some  earnest  prayer.  Would  God  that,  in 
desire  for  the  rescue  of  souls,  we  might  in  prayer  lay  hold  of  the 
resources  of  tlie  Lord  omnipotent. 

We  nuxy  turn  many  to  righteousness  by  Christian  admonition.  Do 
not  wait  until  you  can  make  a  formal  speech.  Address  the  one  next 
to  you.  You  will  not  go  home  alone  to-night.  Between  the  Tabernacle 
and  your  own  house,  you  may  decide  the  eternal  destiny  of  an  immortal 
spirit.  Just  one  sentence  may  do  the  woi'k.  Just  one  question.  Just 
one  look.  The  formal  talk  that  begins  with  a  sigh  and  ends  Avith  a 
canting  snuffle  is  not  Avhat  is  wanted,  but  the  heart-throb  of  a  man  in 
dead  earnest.  There  is  not  a  soul  on  earth  that  you  may  not  bring 
to  God  if  you  rightly  go  at  it.  Tliey  said  Gibraltar  could  not  be  taken. 
It  is  a  rock,  sixteen  hundred  feet  high  and  three  miles  long.  But  the 
English  and  Dutch  did  take  it.  Artillery,  and  sappers  and  miners, 
and  fleets  pouring  out  volleys  of  death,  and  thousands  of  men,  reckless 
of  danger,  can  do  anything.  The  stoutest  heart  of  sin,  though -it  be 
rock,  and  surrounded  by  an  ocean  of  transgression,  under  Christian 
bombardment  may  be  made  to  hoist  the  flag  of  redemption. 

But  is  all  this  admonition,  and  prayer,  and  Christian  work  for 
nothing?  My  text  promises  to  all  the  faithful  eternal  lustre.  "  They 
that  turn  many  to  righteousness  shall  shine  as  the  stars  forever  and 
ever." 

As  stars,  the  redeemed  have  a  horroioed  light.  What  makes  Mars, 
and  Venus,  and  Jupiter  so  luminous  ?  When  the  sun  throws  down 
his  torch  in  the  heavens,  the  stars  pick  up  the  scattered  brands,  and 
hold  them  in  procession  as  the  queen  of  the  night  advances;  so  all 
Christian  workers,  standing  round  the  throne,  will  shine  in  the  light 
borrowed  from  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  Jesus  in  their  faces,  Jesus 
in  their  songs,  Jesus  in  their  triumph.  Christ  left  heaven  once  for  a 
tour  of  redemption  on  earth,  yet  the  glorified  ones  knew  he  would  come 
back  again.  But  let  him  abdicate  his  throne,  and  go  away  to  stay  forever, 
the  music  would  stop;  the  congregation  disperse;  the  temples  of  God 
be  darkened;  the  rivers  of  light  stagnate;  and  every  chariot  would 
become  a  hearse,  and  every  bell  would  toll,  and  there  would  not  be 
room  on  the  hill-sides  to  bury  the  dead  of  the  great  metropolis,  for 
there  would  be  pestilence  in  heaven.  But  Jesus  lives,  and  so  all  the 
redeemed  live  with  him.  lie  shall  recognize  them  as  his  comrades  in 
earthly  toil,  and  remember  what  they  did  for  the  honor  of  his  name, 
and  for  the  spread  of  his  kingdom.  All  their  prayers,  and  tears,  and 
work  will  rise  before  him  as  he  looks  into  their  faces,  and  he  Avill 
divide  his  kingdom  with  them;  his  peace — their  peace;  his  holiness — 
their  holiness;  his  joy — their  joy.  The  glory  of  the  central  throne 
reflected  from  the  surrounding  thrones,  the  last  spot  of  sin  struck  from 
the  Christian  orb,  and  the  entire  nature,  a-tremble  and  a-flash  with 
light,  they  shall  ^hine  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever. 


900  T.    DEW  ITT    TALMA  GE. 

Again:  Christian  worlcers  shall  be  like  the  stars  in  the  fact  that 
the  J  hiwe  a  liffht  inde2:>endent  of  each  other.  Look  up  at  night,  and 
see  each  world  show  its  distinct  glory.  It  is  not  like  the  conflagration, 
in  whi-ch  you  can  not  tell  where  one  flame  stops  and  another  begins. 
Keptune,  Herschel,  and  Mercury  are  as  distinct  as  if  each  one  of 
them  were  the  only  star;  so  our  individualism  will  not  be  lost  in 
heaven.  A  great  multitude — yet  each  one  as  observable,  as  distinctly 
recognized,  as  greatly  celebrated,  as  if  in  all  the  space,  from  gate  to 
gate,  and  from  hill  to  hill,  he  were  the  only  inhabitant :  no  mixing  up 
— no  mob — no  indiscriminate  rush;  each  Christian  worker  standing 
out  illustrious — all  the  story  of  earthly  achievement  adhering  to  each 
one ;  his  self-denials,  and  pains,  and  services,  and  victories  published. 
Before  men  went  out  to  the  last  war,  the  orators  told  them  that  they 
would  all  be  remembered  by  their  country,  and  their  names  be 
commemorated  in  poetry  and  in  song;  but  go  to  the  grave-yard  in 
Richmond,  and  you  will  find  there,  six  thousand  graves,  over  each  one 
of  which  is  the  inscription  "  Unknovm.''''  Tlie  world  does  7iot 
remember  its  heroes;  but  there  will  be  no  unrecognized  Christian 
worker  in  heaven.  Each  one  known  by  all ;  grandly  known;  known 
by  acclamation ;  all  the  past  story  of  work  for  God  gleaming  in  cheek, 
and  brow,  and  foot,  and  palm.  They  shall  shine  with  distinct  light, 
as  the  stars,  forever  and  ever. 

Again:  Christian  workers  shall  shine  like  the  stars  in  clusters.  In 
looking  up,  you  find  the  worlds  in  family  circles.  Brothers  and 
sisters — they  take  hold  of  each  other's  hands  and  dance  in  groups. 
Orion  in  a  group.  The  Pleiades  in  a  group.  The  solar  system  is  only 
a  company  of  children,  with  bright  faces,  gathered  around  one  great 
fireplace.  The  worlds  do  not  straggle  ofi".  They  go  in  squadrons  and 
fleets,  sailing  through  immensity. 

So  Christian  workers  in  heaven  will  dwell  in  neighborhoods  and 
clusters.  I  am  sure  that  some  people  I  will  like  in  heaven  a  great 
deal  better  than  others.  Yonder  is  a  constellation  of  stately  Christians. 
They  lived  on  earth  by  rigid  rule.  They  never  laughed.  They  walked 
every  hour,  anxious  lest  they  should  lose  their  dignity.  But  they 
loved  God;  and  yonder  they  shine  in  brilliant  constellation.  Yet  I  shall 
not  long  to  get  into  that  particular  group.  Yonder  is  a  constellation 
of  small-hearted  Christians — asteroids  in  the  eternal  astronomy. 
While  some  souls  go  up  from  Christian  battle,  and  blaze  like  Mars, 
these  asteroids  dart  a  feeble  ray  like  Vesta.  Yonder  is  a  constellation 
of  martyrs,  of  apostles,  of  patriarchs.  Our  souls,  as  they  go  up  to 
heaven,  will  seek  out  the  most  congenial  society.  Yonder  is  a 
constellation  almost  merry  with  the  play  of  light.  On  earth  they 
were  full  of  sympathies,  and  songs,  and  tears,  and  raptures,  and 
congratulations.     AVhen    they   prayed   their  words  took  fire ;   when 


AS    THE    STARS    FOREVER.  901 

they  sang,  the  tune  could  not  liold  them;  when  they  wept  over  a 
world's  woes,  they  sobhod  as  if  lieart-brokeii ;  Avhen  they  worked  for 
Christ,  they  flamed  with  enthusiasm.  Yonder  they  are — circle  of 
light!  constellation  of  joy  !  galaxy  of  fire  !  Oh  that  you  and  I^  by 
that  grace  which  can  transform  the  worst  into  the  best,  might  at  last 
sail  in  the  wake  of  that  fleet,  and  Avheel  in  that  glorious  group,  as  the 
stars,  forever  and  ever  ! 

Again :  Christian  workers  will  shine  like  the  stars  in  stciftness  of 
motion.  The  worlds  do  not  stop  to  shine.  There  are  no  fixed  stars 
save  as  td  relative  position.  The  star  most  thoroughly  fixed  flies 
thousands  of  miles  a  minute.  The  astronomer,  using  his  telesco})e  for 
an  Alpine  stock,  leaps  from  world-crag  to  world-crag,  and  finds  no 
star  standing  still.  The  chamois  hunter  has  to  fly  to  catch  his  prey, 
but  not  so  swift  is  his  game  as  that  which  the  scientist  tries  to  shoot 
through  the  tower  of  the  observatory.  Like  petrels  mid-Atlantic,  that 
seem  to  come  from  no  shore,  and  be  bound  to  no  landing-place — flying, 
flying — so  these  great  flocks  of  worlds  rest  not  as  they  go — wing  and 
wing — age  after  age — forever  and  ever.  The  eagle  hastes  to  its  prey, 
but  we  shall  in  speed  beat  the  eagles.  You  have  noticed  the  velocity 
of  the  swift  horse  under  whose  feet  the  miles  slip  like  a  smooth  ribbon, 
and  as  he  passes,  the  four  hoofs  strike  the  earth  in  such  quick  beat 
your  pulses  take  the  same  vibration.  But  all  these  things  are  not 
swift  in  comparison  with  the  motion  of  which  I  speak.  The  moon 
moves  fifty-four  thousand  miles  in  a  day.  Yonder,  Neptune  flashes  on 
eleven  thousand  miles  in  an  hour.  Yonder,  Mercury  goes  one  hundred 
and  nine  thousand  miles  an  hour.  So,  like  the  stars,  .the  Christian 
ATorker  shall  shine  in  swiftness  of  motion.  You  hear  now  of  father, 
or  mother,  or  child  sick  one  thousand  miles  away,  and  it  takes  you  two 
days  to  get  to  them.  You  hear  of  some  case  of  suffering  that  demands 
3'^our  immediate  attention,  but  it  takes  you  an  hour  to  get  there.  Oh 
the  joy  when  you  shall,  in  fulfilment  of  the  text,  take  starry  speed,  and 
be  equal  to  one  hundred  thousand  miles  an  hour.  Having  on  earth 
got  used  to  Christian  work,  you  will  not  quit  when  death  strikes  you. 
You  will  only  take  on  more  velocity.  There  is  a  dying  child  in 
London,  and  its  spirit  must  be  taken  up  to  God  :  you  are  there  in  an 
instant  to  do  it.  There  is  a  young  man  in  New  York  to  be  arrested 
from  going  into  that  gate  of  sin:  you  are  there  in  an  instant  to  arrest 
him.  Whether  with  spring  of  foot,  or  stroke  of  wing,  or  by  the  force 
of  some  new  law,  that  shall  hurl  you  to  the  spot  where  you  would 
go,  I  know  not ;  but  my  text  suggests  velocity.  All  space  open  before 
you,  with  nothing  to  hinder  you  in  mission  of  light,  and  love,  and  joy, 
you  shall  shine  in  swiftness  of  motion  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever. 

Again:  Christian  workers,  like  the  stars,  shall  shine  in  magnitude. 
The  most  illiterate  man  knows  that  these  things  in  the  sky,  looking 


902  T.    DEW  ITT    TALMAGE. 

like  gilt  buttons,  are  great  masses  of  matter.  To  weigh  tliem,  one 
would  think  that  it  would  require  scales  with  a  pillar  hundreds  of  thou 
sands  of  miles  high,  and  chains  hundreds  of  thousands  of  miles  long,  and 
at  the  bottom  of  the  chains  basins  on  either  side  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  miles  wide,  and  that  then  Omnipotence  alone  could  put  the 
mountains  into  the  scales,  and  the  hills  into  the  balance.  But  jniny 
man  has  been  equal  to  the  undertaking,  and  has  set  a  little  balance  on 
his  geometry,  and  weighed  world  against  world.  Yea,  he  has  pulled 
out  his  measuring-line,  and  announced  that  Herschel  is  thirty-six 
thousand  miles  in  diameter,  Saturn  seventy-nine  thousand  miles  in 
diameter,  and  Jupiter  eighty-nine  thousand  miles  in  diameter,  and  that 
the  smallest  pearl  on  the  beach  of  heaven  is  immense  beyond  all 
imagination.  So  all  they  who  have  toiled  for  Christ  on  earth  shall 
rise  up  to  a  magnitude  of  privilege,  and  a  magnitude  of  strength,  and 
a  magnitude  of  holiness,  and  a  magnitude  of  joy  ;  and  the  weakest  saint 
in  glory  become  greater  than  all  that  we  can  now  imagine  of  an 
archangel. 

Brethren,  it  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be.  Wisdom  that 
shall  know  evei-y  thing;  wealth  that  shall  possess  every  thing;  strength 
that  shall  do  every  thing;  glory  that  shall  circumscribe  every  thing  ! 
We  shall  not  be  like  a  taper,  set  in  a  sick  man's  window,  or  a  bundle 
of  sticks  kindled  on  the  beach  to  warm  a  shivering  crew;  but  you 
must  take  the  diameter  and  the  circumference  of  the  world  if  you  would 
get  any  idea  of  the  greatness  of  our  estate  when  we  shall  shine  as  the 
stars  forever  and  ever. 

Lastly,  and  coming  to  this  point  my  mind  almost  breaks  down 
under  the  contemplation — like  the  stars,  all  Christian  workers  shall 
shine  in  dtiration.  The  same  stars  that  look  down  uj^on  us  looked 
down  upon  the  Chaldfean  shepherds.  The  meteor  that  I  saw  flashing 
across  the  sky  the  other  night,  I  wonder  if  it  was  not  the  same  one 
that  pointed  down  to  where  Jesus  lay  in  a  manger,  and  if,  having 
pointed  out  his  birthplace,  it  has  ever  since  been  wandering  through 
the  heavens,  watching  to  see  how  the  world  would  treat  him.  When 
Adam  awoke  in  the  garden  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  he  saw  coming  out 
through  the  dusk  of  the  evening  the  same  worlds  that  greeted  us  on 
our  way  to  church  to-night. 

In  Independence  Hall  is  an  old  cracked  bell  that  sounded  the 
signature  of  Declaration  of  Independence.  You  can  not  ring  it  now; 
but  this  great  chime  of  silver  bells  that  strike  in  the  dome  of  night 
ring  out  with  as  sweet  a  tone  as  when  God  swung  them  at  the  creation. 
Look  up  to-night,  and  know  that  the  white  lilies  that  bloom  in  all  the 
hanging  gardens  of  our  King  are  century  plants — not  blooming  once 
in  a  hundred  years,  but  through  all  the  centuries. 

The  star  at  which  the  mariner  looks  to-night  was  tlie  light  by  which 


AS     THE    STARS    FOREVER.  903 

the  sliips  of  Tursliish  were  guided  across  the  Mediterranean,  and  the 
Venetian  flotilla  found  its  way  into  Lepanto.  Their  armor  is  as  bright 
to-nio-ht  as  AV'ben,  in  ancient  battle,  the  stars  in  their  courses  fought 
against  Sisera.  To  the  ancients  the  stars  were  symbols  of  eternity. 
]>ut  here  the  figure  of  my  text  breaks  down — not  in  defeat,  but  in  the 
majesties  of  the  judgment.  The  stars  shall  not  shine  forever.  The 
Bible  says  they  shall  fall  like  autumnal  leaves.  It  is  almost  impossible 
for  a  man  to  take  in  a  courser  going  a  mile  in  three  minutes  ;  but  God 
shall  take  in  the  worlds,  flying  a  hundred  thousand  miles  an  hour,  by 
one  pull  of  his  little  finger.  As,  when  the  factory  band  slips  at 
nightfall  from  the  main  wheel,  all  the  smaller  wlieels  slacken  their 
speed,  and  with  slower  and  slower  motion  they  turn  until  they  come 
to  a  full  stop,  so  this  great  machinery  of  the  universe,  wheel  within 
wheel,  making  revolution  of  appalling  speed,  shall,  by  the  touch 
of  God's  hand,  slip  the  baud  of  present  law,  and  slacken,  and  stop. 
That  is  what  will  be  the  matter  with  the  mountains.  The  chariots  in 
which  they  ride  shall  halt  so  suddenly  that  the  kings  shall  be  thrown 
out.  Star  after  star  shall  be  carried  out  to  burial  amid  funeral  torches 
of  burning  worlds.  Constellations  shall  throw  ashes  on  their  head, 
and  all  up  and  down  the  highways  of  space  there  shall  be  mourning, 
mourning,  mourning,  because  the  worlds  are  dead.  But  the  Christian 
workers  shall  never  quit  their  thrones — they  shall  reign  forever  and 
ever.  If,  by  some  invasion  from  hell,  the  attempt  were  made  to  carry 
them  off  into  captivity  from  heaven,  the  souls  they  have  saved  would 
rally  for  their  defense,  and  all  the  angels  of  God  would  strike  with 
their  sceptres,  and  the  redeemed,  on  white  horses  of  victory,  would 
ride  down  the  foe,  and  all  the  steep  of  the  sky  would  resound  with  the 
crash  of  the  overwhelmed  cohorts  tumbled  headlong  out  of  heaven. 

Safe  forever — all  Christian  workers.  No  toil  shall  fatigue  them  ; 
no  hostility  overcome  them;  no  pain  pierce  them;  no  night  shadow 
them.  J'orever  tbs  river  of  joy  flows  on;  forever  the  jubilee 
progresses.  The  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  lead 
them  to  living  fountains  of  water,  and  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes. 

But  none  of  these  things  for  the  idlers,  the  drones,  the  stumbling- 
blocks.  They  who  have,  by  prayer,  and  example,  and  Christian  work, 
turned  many  to  righteousness,  and  only  they,  "  shall  shine  as  the  stars 
forever." 


DISCOURSE   LXVII. 

JOSEPH    PARKER,    D.D. 


Dr.  Joseph  Parker,  so  well  known  to  American  readers  by  his  visit  to  tliis  coun- 
try in  connection  with  the  meeting  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  at  New  York,  1873, 
is  the  pastor  of  the  City  Temple,  Holborn,  London.  Dr.  Parker  belongs  to  the 
Congregationalists,  and  was  originally  settled  in  Manchester,  over  the  congrega- 
tion worshipping  in  Cavendish  Chapel.  His  earnest  words  and  true  eloquence  will 
not  soon  be  forgotten  by  those  who  were  privileged  to  hear  him  during  his 
American  visit.  In  addition  to  his  reputation  as  a  great  pulpit  orator.  Dr.  Parker 
is  well  known  by  his  books,  of  which  he  has  published  several :  The  Working 
Church,  London,  1857 ;  Helps  to  Truth-Seekers,  1863 ;  Emmanuel,  1863  ;  Chas- 
tening of  Love,  1864 ;  Ecce  Deus,  being  Essays  on  the  Life  and  Doctrine  of  Jesus 
Christ,  1867,  etc.,  etc. 


THE  FUTURE   COXSIDERED    AS   KNOWN  AND  AS 
UNKNOWN. 

"  The  great  God  hath  made  known  to  the  king  what  shall  come  to  pass  here- 
after."— Daniel  ii.  45. 

"  Thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth." — Prov.  xxvii.  1. 

Our  subject  this  morning  is  thus  divided  into  what  would  appear 
to  be  two  opposite  and  irreconcilable  parts.  The  subject  is  the 
Future,  and  we  are  to  find  out  what  is  known  and  also  what  is  unknown 
about  it.  This  is  of  intense  interest  to  every  one  of  us.  What  we 
would  give  if  we  knew  exactly  what  would  happen  to-morrow,  or  what 
will  be  the  detailed  result  of  our  schemes,  or  what  will  be  the  answer 
to  letters  involving  our  peace,  fortune,  joy  !  The  future  is  so  near  and 
yet  so  far  !  It  is  the  very  next  thing  we  shall  come  upon,  and  yet  it 
spreads  out  over  all  the  spaces  of  eternity :  it  is  an  hour ;  it  is  an 
everlasting  duration — it  is  measurable  as  a  human  span;  it  is  as 
illimitable  as  infinitude  !  It  is  the  riddle  Avhich  vexes  us  beyond 
all  others,  because  we  feel  as  if  we  ought  to  know  an  answer  which 
must  be  simple  and  easy.     You  will  see,  then,  that  our  subject  touches 


THE    FUTURE.  905 

every   man's  life,  and  ought  therefore   to  compel  every   man's   most 
religious  attention. 

Let  me  suggest  in  the  first  place  that  we  owe  a  great  deal  both  in 
the  way  of  stimulus  and  in  the  way  of  education  to  the  very  mysteri- 
ousness  of  the  future.  What  poetry  is  there  in  a  straight  line  ?  Wliat 
enjoyment  is  there  in  a  road  that  is  never  bent  into  curves  or  broken 
into  undulations  ?  It  is  expectancy,  call  it  hope  or  fear,  that  gives  life 
a  rare  interest :  hope  itself  sometimes  brings  with  it  a  sting  Of  pain, 
and  fear  now  and  again  brings  with  it  even  something  of  weird  pleas- 
ure. Hope  turns  the  future  into  a  banqueting  house.  Ambition  fore- 
casts the  future  with  great  plans  of  attack  and  defence.  Fear  antici- 
pates the  future  so  as  to  get  from  the  outlook  restraint  and  discipline. 
Life  that  has  no  future  would  be  but  a  flat  surface,  a  stiff  and  cold 
monotony,  a  world  without  a  firmament — a  mere  death's  ground  occu- 
pied by  people  not  yet  quite  fit  for  burying  !  But  Avith  a  future  it  is 
a  hope,  an  inspiration,  a  sweet  and  gracious  promise  ;  it  is,  too,  a 
terror,  for  we  know  not  what  is  behind  the  cloud,  nor  can  we  say  what 
foe  or  friend  will  face  us  at  the  very  next  corner  !  We  live  a  o-ood 
deal  in  our  to-morrows,  and  thus  we  spend  money  which  does  not  fairly 
belong  to  us :  yet  how  poor  we  would  be  if  we  could  not  turn  our 
imagination  to  some  account,  and  mint  our  fancies  into  some  little 
gold  just  to  clink  in  our  hands  that  we  may  scare  our  immediate  pov- 
erty away!  What  beautiful  drives  we  have  had  in  the  carriage 
which  we  are  going  to  buy  in  a  year  or  two  !  How  we  have  laid  out 
the  garden  which  is  going  to  be  ours  in  ten  years'  time  !  In  our 
childhood  we  set  up  fine  houses  with  broken  earthenware,  and  before 
M'e  outgrew  our  jackets  and  pinafores  Ave  had  made  eternal  friendships 
and  set  our  proud  feet  on  a  conquered  and  humbled  Avorld  !  And  yet 
the  future  is  always  in  front  of  us,  a  shy  but  persistent  cocpiette, 
vouchsafing  a  smile,  but  throwing  a  frown  over  it,  and  telling  us  to 
come  on,  yet  leaving  us  to  to])ple  over  an  unseen  stone  and  to  fall  into 
an  unmapped  pit  which  we  could  never  have  discovered  had  it  not  first 
half  killed  us  !  The  Past  has  become  a  confused,  dull,  troubled  noise, 
as  of  people  hastening  to  and  fro  in  the  night-time  ;  but  the  Future  is 
a  still  small  voice,  having  marvellous  Avhispering  poAver,  with  a  strange 
mastery  over  the  Avill,  soothing  us  like  a  benediction,  and  anon  chill- 
ing us  like  a  sigh  in  a  grave-yard.  The  Past  is  a  worn  road  ;  the 
Future  is  a  world  in  Avhich  all  the  Avayshave  yet  to  be  made.  I  Avould 
bind  you,  then,  to  a  general  estimate  of  the  future,  as  being,  by  the 
A'cry  fact  of  its  being  future,  a  high  educational  influence — an  influence 
that  holds  you  back  like  a  bit  in  your  foaming  lips,  and  an  influence 
that  sends  you  forward  Avith  the  hunger  of  a  great  hope  relieved  by 
satisfactions  which  do  but  Avhet  the  desire  they  cannot  aj>pease. 
Thank  God  that  there  is  a  future;  that  there  are  days  afar  oil";  that 


900  JOSEPH    PARKER. 

there  are  clouils  floating  in  the  distance,  beautiful  enough  to  be  the 
vesture  of  angels,  solemn  enough  to  be  the  sheaths  of  lightning. 

Passing  from  these  general  observations  to  more  detailed  inquiry, 
you  will  notice  that  we  know  the  great  broad  features  of  the  future, 
but  next  to  nothing  of  its  mere  detail.  We  know  the  future  and  yet 
Ave  do  not  know  it.  God  has  given  us  a  peep  into  the  far-off  dis- 
tance of  time  and  yet  He  has  foi-bidden  us  to  look  into  the  very 
next  day.  This  shows  us  what  we  know  and  what  we  do  not  know  of 
the  future.  Let  me  illustrate  this.  We  know  that  all  men  must  die 
and  be  as  water  spilled  upon  the  ground  which  cannot  be  gathered  up 
again,  yet  who  can  tell  when  the  pulse  will  cease  ?  I  would  rest  the 
whole  argument  upon  that  one  illustration.  The  future  is  a  future  of 
death,  physical  dissolution,  physical  disajjpearance ;  the  earth  shall 
swallow  us  up  as  in  a  great  immeasurable  pit,  the  place  that  knoweth 
us  now  shall  know  us  no  more  forever ;  and  yet  I  cannot  tell  at  what  hour 
death  will  call  for  me.  I  know  he  will^call,  he  may  call  upon  the  right 
hand  and  upon  the  left,  and  may  appear  to  have  forgotten  me;  but 
Death  forgets  no  man — he  may  postpone  his  call,  but  he  will  come. 
I  know  that  much — it  is  all  I  wish  to  know.  Tell  me  the  day  when 
the  silver  cord  shall  be  loosed  and  the  golden  bowl  be  broken,  and  you 
disable  me  for  my  work.  God  therefore  Himself  tells  us  that  we  shall 
die,  and  yet  He  lets  us  live  on  from  day  to  day  as  if  He  were  always 
putting  the  time  off ;  He  never  tells  us  what  hour  we  shall  go — it  is 
enough  for  us  that  the  King's  chariot  will  call  at  our  door,  and 
we  must  be  ready  for  the  great  event.  He  gives  me  a  kind  of  immor- 
tality to  be  going  on  with,  and  an  assurance  of  my  being  here  but 
temporarily,  tliat  He  may  restrain  me,  and  visit  me  with  a  kindly 
discipline,  and  give  me  a  keener  zest  in  all  the  duties  and  enjoyments 
of  life. 

Take  the  instance  of  destiny.  We  know,  and  yet  we  know  but  lit- 
tle of  that  great  subject.  I  can  say  to  the  righteous,  It  shall  be  well 
with  thee.  I  can  say  to  the  wicked,, It  shall  be  ill  with  thee  in  tlie 
stormy  day;  and  they  both  may  reply,  "  How  knowest  thou?  I  trust 
by  the  grace  of  God  I  am  endeavoring  to  be  a  righteous  man,  and 
to  serve  the  Lord  in  a  spirit  of  love  and  joy,  and  yet  I  do  not  know 
where  my  dinner  shall  come  from  this  very  day,  and  yet  you  say  it  will 
be  well  witli  me  ;  I  have  wrung  my  hands  in  prayer,  I  have  waited  for 
His  coming  with  impatient  desire,  and  yet  the  day  is  dark,  and  all  this 
sweet  spring,  tliis  premature  light  of  spring  which  seems  to  belong 
not  to  February  but  to  April,  brings  with  it  no  friend,  no  relief,  no 
joy,  it  only  shines  on  the  skin  of  my  face,  it  does  not  penetrate  to  my 
iiuier  life."  And  the  bad  man  when  I  say  it  shall  be  ill  with  him 
says,  "  Ha,  lia,  I  have  more  than  yon  have.  I  have  not  had  a  doctor 
in  my  house  fo)-  a  quarter  of  a  century.     Everything  I  touch  blossoms 


THE    FUTURE.  907 

with  beauty,  and  instantly  establishes  itself  in  a  firm  prosperity. 
Keep  your  mournful  monitions  to  yourself."  How  then  ?  God  hath 
showed  what  shall  be  the  future  in  point  of  moral  destiny — the  word 
liath  gone  out  of  His  mouth,  "  Say  ye  to  the  righteous,  it  shall  be  well 
Avith  iiim  ;  say  ye  to  the  wicked,  it  shall  be  ill  Mnth  him ;  "  and  we 
rest  all  there.  Give  the  Lord  time  !  Nay,  He  is  giving  us  time  ! 
Oh,  thou  fatted  calf!  beast  of  the  pasture?  mockest  thou  the  righteous 
man  ?  God's  knile  shall  be  in  thee,  I  cannot  tell  thee  when,  but  the 
eternities  give  me  authority  to  declare  again  and  again  that  the  wicked 
shall  be  destroyed  and  utterly  put  down  and  visited  with  eternal 
shame,  and  the  heart  of  the  good  man  shall  be  lifted  up  among  the 
angels  and  princes  of  heaven. 

Take  the  future  state  of  the  world.  The  world  shall  yet  be  endowed 
with  eternal  youth.  There  shall  be  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth  in 
which  dwelleth  righteousness,  and  the  barest  desert  shall  be  verdant 
as  a  chosen  field,  and  all  the  idols  of  the  world  shall  be  crushed  in  one 
great  ruin,  and  there  shall  go  up  a  universal  psalm,  for  the  mouth  of 
the  Lord  hath  spoken  it!  We  know  this  much  about  the  future,  and 
yet  with  our  child-like  impatience  we  touch  the  Lord's  hand  as  it  were, 
and  say,  "Lord,  wilt  Thou  at  this  time  do  it?  We  should  like  to 
know  the  hour;  pray  tell  us."  And  the  Lord  says,  "  It  is  not  for  thee 
to  know  the  times  and  the  seasons  ;  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day  will 
bring  forth,  yet  the  great  God  hath  made  known  what  shall  come  to 
pass  hereafter,"  But  we  will  intermeddle  with  things  as  they  go  on. 
Oh,  Blessed  One,  keep  the  time  Thyself,  and  the  exact  hour  never 
speak  to  me,  and  let  me  live  upon  Thy*  word.  Thy  rich,  rich  word  ! 
Han  shall  not  live  by  bread  alone — the  local  and  temporary,  the 
physical  and  perishable — but  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  God.  The  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it — that  is  the 
authority  of  your  missionaries,  that  is  the  anticipatory  report  of  your 
May  meetings  ;  after  the  sub-secretary  has  read  what  he  calls  his  facts, 
hear,  coming  up  from  the  eternities,  this  word:  "  The  earth  shall  be  filled 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord."  And  so  we  know  the  future,  and 
yet  we  know  it  not.  But  this  ignorance  of  detail  ought  not  to  interfere 
with  our  right  apprehension  and  proper  use  of  the  future.  Let  me 
speak  a  little  business  now.  I  will  prove  to  you  that  if  you  would  do 
in  religion  what  you  do  in  common  life  it  would  be  enough.  Oh  that 
men  were  wise  all  round  !  Not  wise  in  one  little  point,  or  two,  but 
wise  in  their  whole  life.  Oh  that  men  were  not  only  wise  in  making- 
little  bargains,  but  religiously  wise.  You  know  that  there  will  be  a 
harvest  this  year.  How  do  you  know  it  ?  I  know  it  because  the  mouth 
of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it.  But  I  cannot  tell  you  whether  it  will  be 
an  early  one  or  not,  whether  it  will  be  wet  or  dry,  whether  there  will 
be  enough  to  supply  our  Avants,  or  whether  we  shall  have  to  go  to  other 


908  JOSEPH    PARKER. 

countries  to  make  up  our  need ;  but  we  sliall  have  a  harvest.  The 
great  general  future  is  assured  to  us ;  but  the  particular  kind  of  harvest, 
and  all  the  details,  are  hidden  in  God's  heart.  They  are  better  there. 
Suppose  that  we  knew  to-day  exactly  how  much  grain  we  should  have, 
and  understood  all  the  particulars  and  details  of  the  future,  why  I 
could  not  live  until  August !  Many  times  I  have  said  to  a  friend, 
"  Why  go  down  this  road  ?  We  can  see  all  the  way  it  takes ;  let  us 
try  another,  where  there  is  more  curve  and  undulation."  So  God  said 
in  the  early  time,  "  While  the  earth  endureth  you  shall  have  harvest  ; " 
and  He  never  told  a  solitary  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  notwith- 
standing all  the  speculative  almanacs,  what  sort  of  a  harvest  it  would 
be  before  it  came.  We  know  not  what  a  day  will  bring  forth,  and  yet 
our  whole  life  is  based  upon  the  probabilities  of  years.  There  is  not  a 
man  here  who  has  not  set  up  a  plan  of  life  with  a  view  that  it  may  be 
ten  or  even  twenty  years,  and  that  is  right.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  not  a  man  here  who  can  tell  me  with  certainty  what  will  happen 
before  the  clock  strikes  the  next  hour.  He  knows  not  who  will  die. 
God  keeps  all  the  detail  back,  so  that  things  seem  to  come  suddenly, 
though,  if  we  did  but  know  it,  they  have  been  preparing  through  all 
eternity.  Is  not  this  altogether  discrepant  and  irreconcilable  ?  No. 
Did  you  notice  one  word  in  the  lesson  that  ought  to  have  been  well 
emphasised;  that  ought  to  have  an  emphasis  equal  to  an  exposition? 
What  was  that  word  ?  Boast.  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow. 
Think  of  the  years  ;  measure  thy  life  by  the  years,  and  have  great 
breadths  of  years  entering  into  thy  schemes  and  speculations ;  but 
boast  not !  Do  not  use  them  as  if  you  had  a  right  to  them  ;  presume 
not  upon  them  ;  hold  them  with  a  reverent  hand  ;  and  anticipate  every 
one  of  them  with  prayer  and  loving  trust  in  God. 

Now  give  this  a  religious  application  if  you  please.  You  know 
not  when  you  will  die.  "  Be  ready,  for  in  such  an  hour  as  ye  think 
not  the  Son  of  man  cometh."  Make  great  schemes,  and  have  great 
enterprises  always  before  you  ;  don't  live  a  little,  miserable,  peddling 
life,  flitting  from  one  nutshell  to  another,  but  occupy  the  universe  ; 
yet  know  thee,  that  at  any  hour  thy  stewardship  may  be  requested  at 
thy  hands.  "  What  I  say  unto  one,  I  say  unto  all,  watch,"  Thus  we 
shall  have  eternity  for  a  background,  and  yet  the  grave  and  death  just 
in  front  of  us.  Now  the  fact  of  our  ignorance  should  have  a  deeply 
religious  effect  upon  us.  How  earnest  I  ought  to  be  !  "  Time  is  earnest, 
passing  by  ;  Death  is  earnest,  drawing  nigh."  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand 
findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might."  "  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-mor- 
row." Whilst  I  am  in  the  world  I  must  work  every  hour  of  my  little 
day.  I  cannot  tell  when  my  ministry  will  end,  therefore  I  want  to  be 
energetic,  loving,  urgent,  in  the  best  and  enduring  sense  successful. 
Tell  me  I  have  fifty  more  years  for  certain,  and  I  may  say,  "  Now,  what 


THE    FUTURE.  909 

proportion  of  that  may  I  turn  into  holiday  and  enjoyment  ;"  hut  tell 
me  that  T  may  never  preach  again,  then  shall  I  speak  as  a  dying  man 
to  dying  men,  and  there  shall  be  solemnity  in  my  tone,  and  urgency  in 
my  appeal.  God  keeps  our  life  in  a  continual  ci-isis  that  we  may  be 
earnest.  And  yet  in  the  midst  of  it  all  he  calls  us  to  joy  and  mirth- 
fulness.  He  knoweth  our  frame,  He  remembereth  that  we  are  dust,  and 
many  a  provision  lie  hath  made  for  our  laughter  and  gladness,  so  mixed 
up  and  intermingled  altogether  is  this  strange  web  that  we  call  human 
life.  How  dependent  we  ought  to  feel  ourselves!  "Will  you  come 
to-morrow  and  do  this  or  that  ?  "  I  have  to  say,  "  If  the  Lord  will." 
I  am  to  be  religious  in  my  appointments ;  I  am  not  to  be  going  up  and 
down  making  engagements  as  if  I  were  master  of  my  own  time.  But 
I  am  to  preach  sometimes  as  I  make  my  engagements.  Of  course  it  is 
understood  that  we  are  dependent  upon  these  contingencies,  but  I  am 
not  sure  that  we  do  not  lose  something  by  dropping  out  of  our  speech 
an  acknowledgment  of  God's  presence  in  the  arrangements  of  our  life. 
This  word  can  be  so  spoken  as  to  be  a  sermon — "  If  the  Lord  will." 

God's  administration  of  this  one  department  of  His  government, 
namely,  all  that  is  involved  in  our  relations  to  the  future,  fills  me  with 
adoring  wonder  !  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I  could  find  God,  merely  by 
the  study  of  this  one  subject — the  future,  and  how  it  is  administered. 
We  know  so  much  about  the  future  and  yet  so  little.  The  future  is  so 
clear,  set  in  crystal  light,  and  yet  so  dim  !  The  future  is  the  one 
certainty,  and  yet  it  seems  to  i-epresent  the  most  anxious  and  harassing 
doubtfulness.  That  God  should  have  spoken  to  us  of  Eternity,  and  yet 
should  have  kept  to-morrow  from  us,  is  to  me  not  only  so  wise,  but  so 
kind.  He  says  thou  shalt  live  and  be  mighty  for  good,  and  set  thy 
feet  upon  the  neck  of  thine  enemies,  and  triumph  with  a  godly  and 
imperishable  victory  ;  and  when  we  say.  Lord,  at  what  time  shall  this 
be  V  He  says,  thou  Jinowest  not  what  a  day  will  bring  forth.  Take 
out  of  our  life  expectancy,  hope,  the  pleasurableness  of  the  uncer- 
tainty of  the  future,  and  you  take  out  of  life  its  very  blood,  its  very 
poetry,  its  very  grandeur.  Lord,  administer  the  future  !  Thou  wilt 
do  it  out  of  Thy  sovereignty  ;  but  I  would  that  Thou  shouldst  do  it 
out  of  my  personal  consent  as  well.  Keep  to-morrow  from  me. 
Speak  of  the  great  breadths  of  time,  but  keep  the  detail  from  me,  and 
let  it  come  as  a  glad  surprise. 

"  Jesus,  still  lead  on, 

Till  our  rest  be  won  ; 
And  altliougli  tlie  way  be  cheerless, 
We  will  follow,  calm  and  fearless  ; 

Guide  us  by  Thy  hand 

To  our  Fatherland." 


910  JOSEPH    PARKER. 

I  will  hide  myself  in  the  everlasting,  and  then  the  future  will  come 
upon  me  without  fear  or  burdensomeness  ;  even  to-day  I  shall  be  master 
of  to-morrow,  and  even  death  will  be  but  a  shadow  on  the  sunny  road 
that  leads  up  to  heavenly  places.  I  would  live  as  one  who  is  called  to 
immortality  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  for  Avhom  all  the  future  has  been 
graciously  arranged.  I  am  no  longer  at  the  mercy  of  accident, 
casualty,  misfortune  ;  my  King,  my  Redeemer,  He  whom  my  soul 
trusteth,  has  gone  on  before  to  j^repare  a  place  and  time  for  me.  So  I 
will  arise,  and  speed  after  Him  with  burning  and  thankful  love,  know- 
ing that  how  devious  soever  the  way,  and  how  bleak  and  cross-cutting 
soever  the  wind,  there  is  sweet  home  at  the  end,  the  gladness  of  which 
shall  throw  into  oblivion  all  hardship  and  weariness.  I  do  not  ask  to 
know  tlie  mere  detail  of  the  future.  I  know  enough  of  time  unborn 
to  say  unto  the  righteous  it  shall  be  well  with  him  ;  to  say  to  the  peni- 
tent at  the  Cross  that  he  shall  share  the  Lord's  paradise  ;  to  say  to 
them  who  mourn,  the  days  of  your  tears  shall  be  ended,  and  the  time 
of  your  joy  shall  be  as  a  sea  whose  shore  no  man  can  find !  Is  it  dark 
with  thee,  my  friend  ?  It  has  been  quite  as  dark  with  myself,  and  yet 
I  have  seen  light  descending  on  the  rugged  hills,  and  making  those 
hills  as  steps  up  to  heaven.  Art  thou  afraid  of  the  coming  days,  lest 
they  bring  with  them  edged  weapons,  pain,  grief,  loss,  friendlessness, 
and  desolation  ?  Put  thy  hand  into  the  palm  wounded  for  thee,  the 
palm  of  the  One  Infinite  Saviour.  He  knows  all — He  is  the  treasurer 
of  the  future — the  great  dragon  is  tamed  by  the  fire  of  His  eye — and 
they  who  trust  Him  with  all  their  love  shall  be  set  amidst  the  safety, 
the  peace,  and  the  glory  of  His  eternal  Zion. 


DISCOUPtSE    LXVIII. 

WILLIAM    ADAMS. 

Dk.  Adams  Avas  born  in  Colchester,  Connecticut,  January  25tli,  1807,  and  is  now 
consequently  in  bis  sixty-ceventb  year.  His  parents  removing  to  Audover,  Mass,, 
in  bis  infancy,  be  received  bis  education  at  Pbillips  Academy,  then  presided  over 
by  bis  father,  John  Adams,  LL.D.,  who  was  known  as  one  of  the  most  eminent 
classical  authorities  of  the  day,  Yale  College,  and  the  Andover  Theological 
Seminary,  under  the  Rev.  Drs.  Stuart,  Woods,  and  Porter.  He  graduated  at  the 
last-named  institution  in  1830.  His  degrees  of  Doctor  of  Divinity  and  Doctor  of 
Laws  were  received  respectively  from  the  New  York  University  and  Princeton 
College. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-three  he  was  settled  over  the  Congregational  Church  of 
Brighton,  Massachusetts,  where  be  continued  until  1834.  Visiting  New  York  for 
medical  advice  for  bis  wife,  he  was  induced  for  a  time  to  supply  the  pulpit  of  the 
Pearl-Street  Presbyterian  Church,  which  was  then  vacant,  and  soon  after  he  was 
called  to  the  pastorate  of  the  Central  Presbyterian  Church. 

Under  the  pastoral  charge  of  Dr.  Adams,  the  Broome-Street  Church  flour- 
ished apace,  until,  in  the  year  1853,  there  was  a  general  feeling  that  seemed  to 
require  a  new  church  organization  in  what  was  then  considered  the  upper  part 
of  the  city.  The  imposing  structure  now  known  as  the  ^fadison-Square  Presby- 
terian Church,  situated  at  the  corner  of  Madison  Avenue  and  Twenty-fourth 
Street,  was  therefore  erected.  The  new  church  was  dedicated  in  December,  1854, 
and  from'  that  time  until  April  13,  1874,  Dr.  Adams  has  been  its  pastor.  During 
this  period  be  has  been  best  known  to  the  public  outside  of  bis  own  congrega- 
tion by  his  published  works—"  The  Three  Gardens,"  "  The  Conversations  of 
Christ,"  and  "Thanksgiving"  (whicli  latter  work  won  for  him  the  title  of  "  the 
Washington  Irving  of  the  pulpit  ") ;  by  bis  long  efforts  for  the  reunion  of  the 
Old  and  New  Schools  of  the  Presbyterian  Church,  which  was  consiimnuited  at 
Philadelphia  in  1870  ;  and  by  his  eloquent  address  of  welcome  at  the  late  opening 
of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  In  bis  case  his  advancing  age  has  appeared  to 
prove  a  strengtbener  of  his  powers.  It  is  an  old  New-England  idea  that  a  minis- 
ter's best  years  are  from  forty-five  to  seventy,  and  it  is  true  that  within  the  last  sis 
years  Dr.  Adams  has  produced  the  finest  results  of  his  cuItur(Hl  eloquence,  and 
that  the  grandest  works  of  bis  lifetime  have  been  achieved  since  be  reached  the 
age  of  sixty.  Dr.  Adams  is  now  the  President  and  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhetoric  in 
Union  Theological  Seminary— the  office  to  which  he  was  elected  twice  before  and 
declined. 


9]  2  WILLIAM    ADAMS. 

THE  FAITHFULNESS  OF  GOD. 

PEEACHED   IN   1865,   AFTER  A  SOLAK  ECLIPSE. 

"  Forever,  O  Lord,  thy  word  is  settled  in  heaven.  Thy  faithfulness  is  unto  all 
generations  :  thou  hast  established  the  earth,  and  it  abideth.  They  continue  this 
day  according  to  thine  ordinances :  for  all  are  thy  servants." 

Ox  Tlmrsclay  raorning  last  there  occnrred  in  this  longitude  one  of 
the  most  interesting  of  all  celestial  phenomena.  The  sun,  the  source 
of  all  light  to  our  earth,  was  partially  eclipsed  by  the  interposition 
of  the  moon.  Such  occultations  of  the  orb  of  day  are  suggestive  of 
varied  reflections.  The  ox  did  not  lift  his  head  to  gaze  upon  the 
wonder  ;  and  some  men  plodded  on  heeding  the  shadow  only  with  a 
stupid  stare.  Others  of  our  species  beheld  the  spectacle  Avith  the 
opposite  emotions  of  superstitious  fear  and  scientific  delight.  As  the 
line  of  annular  eclipse  touched  the  earth,  the  uncivilized  tribes  in  the 
path  of  its  progress  were  smitten  with  terror,  screaming  and  thuraj)- 
ing  to  scare  away  the  monster  fish,  who,  as  they  imagined,  in  their 
ignorance,  was  devouring  the  sun.  While  superstition  was  tei-rifying 
the  ignorant  with  its  own  dark  shadows,  "star-eyed  science,"  from 
her  heights  of  observation,  was  watching  the  anticipated  conjunction 
with  a  gleam  of  rapture.  It  is  the  first  thought  which  the  occurrence 
suggests — the  changes  which  have  been  wrought  in  the  domain  of 
ancient  sujjerstition  by  true  science.  Astrology  has  given  place  to 
astronomy.  The  shapeless  forms  which  peopled  the  realm  of  "  chaos 
and  old  night"  have  fled;  and  the  eternal  laws  and  truths  of  Nature 
have  been  disclosed  in  their  beautiful  order  and  harmony.  Comets 
are  no  more  regarded  as  harbingers  of  disaster;  nor  eclipses  as  the 
precursors  of  portentous  woe.  The  eccentricities  of  the  heavenly 
bodies,  through  a  better  solution,  become  the  strongest  confirmations 
of  nature's  regularity,  and  it  is  this  thought  which  gives  to  the  phe- 
nomenon itself  its  greatest  interest — without  which  it  were  a  mere 
show;  the  thought,  indeed,  which  justifies  any  reference  to  the  event 
at  this  time  and  in  this  place,  because  it  is  connected  immediately 
with  religious  truths  of  the  highest  import;  even  that  the  spectacle 
upon  Avhich  millions  gazed  in  the  heavens,  with  whatever  emotions  of 
fear,  wonder,  or  delight,  was  the  most  signal  illustration  of  the  unde- 
viating  accuracy,  the  exact  precision,  the  changeless  stability  of  the 
works  of  God.  Consider  how  much  is  implied  in  the  astounding  fact 
that  the  movements  of  sun,  moon,  and  stars  are  so  absolutely  accurate 
and  exact  that  all  their  conjunctions  and  relations  for  centuries  past 
and  centuries  to  come  can  be  comj)uted  without  the  deviation  of  a 
single  second  of  time.  This  very  eclipse,  for  example,  was  foretold, 
computed,  and  described  years  and  years   ago.     The  very  minute  it 


THE    FAITHFULNESS    OF    GOD.  913 

Avould  begin  and  the  very  minute  it  would  end,  in  our  latitude  and 
longitude,  were  fixed  by  science  before  we  were  born;  and  at  the  very 
minute  announced  it  actually  began,  and  at  the  very  minute  assigned 
it  actually  ended.  Xor  is  there  a  place  to  surmise  that,  when  the 
reports  of  scientiHc  observers  shall  reach  us  from  diiferent  parts  of 
the  country,  in  the  line  of  this  recent  occultation  of  the  sun,  tiiat 
there  will  be  found  the  slightest — not  even  an  infinitesimal  departure 
fi-om  the  point  of  accurate  calculation. 

Such  precision  in  calculation  were  an  utter  impossibility  were  it  not 
for  the  actual  precision  of  the  planetary  movements  themselves.  Let 
there  be  deviations  and  uncertainties  in  the  orbits  of  the  heavenly  \)odies 
which  are  reducible  to  no  law,  and  demonstrations  would  gi\e  place  to 
conjecture,  and  figures  would  lose  their  ancient  truth  and  exactness. 

Thus  are  we  brought  to  the  topic  with  which  we  are  now  to  be 
occupied.  Admiring  the  constancy,  the  regularity,  the  undeviating 
uniformity  of  the  works  of  God,  we  are  bidden  to  remember  that  all 
this  is  but  a  confirmation  of  the  still  greater  faithfulness  of  his  Word. 
We  are  not  now  to  be  occupied  with  a  mere  matter  of  scientific  in- 
vestigation. Following  the  guidance  of  inspired  Scripture,  we  bor- 
row from  every  quarter — from  the  heavens  above,  the  earth  beneath, 
and  the  waters  which  are  under  the  earth — whatever  may  illustrate 
the  stability  of  those  religious  truths  which  involve  our  personal 
salvation.  Nature  and  Kevelation  proceed  from  one  authorship. 
Visible  phenomena  attest  the  truthfulness  of  the  one,  and  that  truth- 
fulness confirms  the  faithfulness  of  the  other.  This  appears  to  be  the 
sentiment  pervading  the  verses  which  I  have  read  as  the  theme  of  our 
reflections.  "  Forever,  O  Loi'd,  thy  word  is  settled  in  heaven.  Thy 
faithfulness  is  unto  all  generations  :  thou  hast  established, the  earth, 
and  it  abideth.  They  continue  this  day  according  to  thine  ordinances: 
for  all  are  thy  servants."  Tlie  allusion  sometimes,  as  it  would  seem, 
is  to  the  stability  of  Nature,  and  sometimes  to  the  stability  of  Truth; 
"yet  so  blended  and  intermixed  that  it  is  difticult  to  separate  them. 
They  form  one  common  sentiment.  Resolved  into  our  own  idiom, 
the  meaning  of  the  passage  is,  that  the  truth  of  God's  promises,  in 
his  fidelity  to  his  engagements,  is  secured  by  the  same  divine  perfec- 
tion which  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  has  caused  them  to 
stand  fixed  and  firm  on  their  eternal  foundations.  How  many  there 
were  who,  as  they  recently  gazed  upon  the  shadowed  disc  of  the  sun 
with  scientific  instrument  or  rudest  implement,  from  the  top  of  astro- 
nomical observatories,  in  the  crowded  street,  or  furrowed  field,  that 
ever  thought  wliat  confirmations  and  signs  were  thus  given  by  the 
heavens  of  the  veracity  and  faithfulness  of  God,  we  cannot  say:  but 
some  we  know  there  were  who  rejoiced  most  of  all  in  the  sublime 
testimony  which  was  given  from  the  skies,  to  the  certainty  of  those 
5S 


914  WILLIAM    ADAMS. 

promises  of  God  upon  which  they  have  built  their  hopes  for  eternity. 
Tlie  astronomer  we  will  suppose  was  at  his  post  of  observation.  He 
had  calculated  by  diagrams  and  logarithms,  what  conjunctions  were 
about  to  occur.  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  who  died  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
eight  years  ago,  made  the  calculation  that  in  such  a  year,  and  such  a 
day,  and  such  an  hour,  and  at  such  a  minute,  an  eclipse  would  occur. 
The  hour  was  approaching:  the  heavens  were  serene  and  cloudless. 
His  instruments  and  assistants  were  ready.  "Would  Nature  be  true  to 
herself?  or  Avould  Science  be  falsified  ?  The  chronometer  announces 
that  the  second  of  time  has  come  :  and  at  the  very  instant  the  tele- 
scope reported  that  the  penumbra  of  the  moon  had  touched  the  limb  of 
the  sun.  I  know  not  how  many  of  the  class  there  were  whose  religious 
adoration  was  kindled  by  the  lights  of  Science;  or  how  many  who 
verified  in  their  own  case  the  familiar  words:  "  An  undevout  astron- 
omer is  mad."  But  had  they  all,  when  their  scientific  observations 
were  concluded,  and  the  phenomenon  itself  had  passed,  lifted  up  a 
song  of  praise,  and  a  prayer  of  confidence  to  the  Almighty  Being  who 
has  placed  a  foundation  of  eternal  rock  beneath  the  feet  of  all  who 
trust  in  his  faithfulness,  they  would,  as  we  believe  many  did,  have 
rendered  only  a  reasonable  tribute  to  the  greatest  of  all  sciences,  the 
highest  of  all  philosophies — an  undisturbed  belief  in  the  Word  of  God. 
The  point  before  us  is  that  the  precise  and  accurate  movements  of 
Nature  are  corroborations  of  the  changeless  constancy  of  revealed 
Truth.  The  moral  is  higher  and  greater  than  the  naturcd.  The 
handiwork  of  God  furnishes  but  the  theatre  for  the  disj)lay  of  his 
eternal  wisdom  and  love.  This  visible  world  is  the  instrument,  the 
mechanism  by  means  of  which  the  Supreme  accomplishes  his  great 
moral  designs.  The  verities  of  Revelation  present  'the  vast  and 
worthy  end  for  which  the  worlds  were  made,  and  to  which  all  that  is 
made  is  subservient;  and  no  one  has  yet  learned  to  study  and  collate 
the  loorks  of  God  aright,  who  does  not  regard  them  as  auxiliary  to 
the  grand  purposes  of  his  Word.  The  Son  of  God  has  carried  this 
idea  to  its  highest  form  of  expression  when  he  said:  "Heaven  and 
earth  si i all  pass  away  :  but  not  one  jot  or  tittle  of  my  Word  shall 
fail."  The  truthfulness  of  nature  will  be  falsified  long  before  the 
truthfulness  of  Scripture.  The  confidence  which  man  reposes  in  the 
stability  of  the  earth  and  the  regularity  of  the  heavens  will  be  dis- 
appointed, before  any  disappointment  shakes  the  faith  of  those  who 
trust  in  the  Word  of  their  Maker.  The  stars  will  break  from  their 
^  orbits  in  wild  confusion,  and  the  earth  will  be  moved  out  of  its  place? 
before  there  is  detected  any  deflection,  uncertainty,  or  irregularity  in 
that  eternal  Law  and  Gospel  of  God  for  which  the  stars  and  the  earth 
were  created. 

I  know   not   any  truth   Avhich,  fully   conceived,  is  more  fitted  to 


THE    FAITHFULS' ESS    OF    GOD.  915 

blanch  the  cheek  of  doubt  or  unbelief  with  terror,  or  impart  to  reli- 
gious faith  a  sublime  serenity,  than  those  illustrations  which  Nature 
gives  to  the  eternal  faithfulness  of  the  Almiglity.  The  substance  of 
Revelation  is  presented  to  our  faith  as  ''  the  eternal  purpose  of  God, 
which  he  hath  purposed  in  himself  before  the  foundation  of  the  world." 
"Redemption  by  Jesus  Christ  was  no  afterthought.  It  was  no  expe- 
dient resorted  to  in  an  emergency  for  the  correction  of  an  accident.  It 
was  a  design  which  had  eternity  for  its  birthplace,  "  that  in  the  dis- 
pensation or  the  fulness  of  time,  God  might  gather  together  in  one  all 
things  in  Christ,  both  which  are  in  heaven  and  Avhich  are  in  earth." 
This  is  revealed  as  the  one  object  which  gives  use  to  creation,  import- 
ance to  time,  dignity  to  nature,  consummation  to  the  world's  history. 
And  this  mystery  of  His  will,  hid  from  ages  and  from  generations,  has 
been  in  process  of  revelation,  in  the  august  revolutions  of  Providence. 
Talk  of  the  wonderful  conjunctions  of  the  heavenly  bodies  ;  what  are 
these  for  accuracy  and' faithfulness  compared  with  those  pre-deter- 
mined  combinations  of  events  by  which  the  Avork  of  Redemption  has 
been  gradually  and  constantly  evolved  !  They  were  subject  to  no 
human  prescience.  Man  never  computed  the  order  of  their  occurrence. 
But  God  announced  at  the  beginning  the  programme,  progress,  and 
catastrophe  of  the  world's  history  ;  and  revolving  cycles  of  time  have 
brought  about,  at  the  aj^pointed  place  and  season,  the  promised  result. 
Boast  of  the  accuracy  of  astronomical  predictions  !  What  Avill  you 
say  of  inspired  ^;»ro/)/jec?/ .''  By  the  mouth  of  his  chosen  servants,  God 
foretold  many  varied  events  connected  with  the  life  of  his  Church — the 
advent  of  his  Son,  the  progress  of  his  Kingdom  ;  and  this  with  a 
minuteness  and  speciality  which  admit  of  no  interpretation  save  that 
of  a  fixed  purpose,  audio,  advancing  ages  have  verified  every  promise, 
and  responded  unto  every  exjiectation.  Prophecy  !  and  its  fulfilment  I 
How  they  throw  into  shade  all  the  calculations  of  astronomy  ;  because 
they  relate  not  to  the  movements  of  inert  masses  of  matter,  but  to 
what  man  always  regards  as  the  most  uncertain  and  contingent  of  all 
things,  the  actions  of  men  themselves  :  nevertheless,  the  plan  of  God 
meets  and  works  sucli  signal  conjunctions,  that  the  very  freedom  of 
man,  uncoerced  and  unconstrained,  has  so  combined  at  the  very 
moment  with  the  design  of  liis  Maker,  as  to  give  to  Redemption  its  his- 
torical development.  From  the  observatories  of  Pisa  and  Paris,  from 
the  cloisters  of  Prague  and  Oxford,  astronomy  has  forecast  and  foretold 
the  conjunctions  of  sun,  moon,  and  stars;  and  we  are  amazed  at  their 
accuracy  :  but  from  the  watch-towers  whither  the  Spirit  of  God  had 
led  them,  in  Ur  of  the  Chaldees,  on  Sinai  and  INIoriah,  on  Tabor  and 
Carmel,  by  the  river  Chebar  and  by  the  Jordan,  the  old  prophets  fore- 
told, not  in  the  way  of  happy  and  sagacious  conjectures,  but  with 
minute  details  of  names,  places,  and  times,  the  advent,  the  birth,  the 


916  WILLIAM    ADAMS. 

acts,  the  words,  the  sufferings,  the  death,  the  triumphs  of  the  world's 
Redeemer  ;  and  though  the  freedom  of  man  was  undisturbed,  and  the 
world's  acting  and  thinking  and  surging  went  on  as  ever,  yet  at 
every  stage  of  Providence,  prophecy  had  its  fulfilment,  and  the  Sou 
of  God  was  born  and  nui'tured,  and  betrayed  and  crucified  and 
buried,  in  exactest  accordance  with  the  promise  of  ancient  centu- 
ries. Nay,  to  give  us  the  highest  of  all  conceptions  of  the  certainty 
and  faithfulness  of  the  Gospel,  the  only  time  when  nature  departed 
from  its  wonted  regularity  was  when,  at  the  bidding  of  its  Creator,  it 
would  confirm  the  confidence  of  man  in  the  truthfulness  of  Revelation. 
A  star  which  no  astronomy  had  computed  guided  the  Wise  men  from 
the  East  to  the  Manger  of  Bethlehem.  Water  blushed  into  wine  at  the 
word  of  Christ.  Winds  and  waves  paused  in  their  ordinary  career  to 
do  homage  to  Nature's  Lord.  When  he  hung  upon  the  cross,  in  mor- 
tal anguish,  the  sun  veiled  its  face  in  gloom — but  it  was  no  eclipse — 
for  the  moon  was  always  at  the  full  at  the  Passover,  a  time  when 
eclipses  are  impossible  ;  yet  the  heavens  were  clad  with  supernatural 
mourning,  in  sympathy  with  their  expiring  Lord:  and  so  it  was, 
throughout  all  the  historical  revelations  of  the  Gospel ;  nature,  with 
all  its  uniformity  and  constancy  and  stability,  was  made  subservient 
to  the  still  greater  truthfulness,  fidelity,  and  certainty  of  RedemjDtion. 
Through  the  fluctuating  fortunes  of  the  world  we  read  the  serene  and 
certain  progression  of  an  unchanging  plan,  of  Avhich  the  sacred  form 
of  the  Son  of  God  is  the  centre  and  the  Sun. 

Among  the  many  forms  of  malign  suggestion  by  which  men  are 
betrayed  into  destruction,  none  is  more  common  or  successful,  than 
the  expectation  that  by  some  way,  they  know  not  what,  by  some 
sj^ecial  exception  made  for  their  individual  necessity,  by  some  fortu- 
nate expedient  devised  for  their  relief,  they  will  be  exempted  from 
the  penalties  of  transgression,  even  though  they  persevere,  to  the 
last,  in  opposition  to  the  law  and  the  Gospel  of  their  Maker,  This  is 
the  most  adroit  of  all  infernal  machinations.  "  In  the  day  tliou  eatest 
thereof  thou  shalt  surely  die,"  said  God  to  our  progenitor  in  Paradise. 
"  Thou  shalt  not  die,"  was  the  form  of  suggestion  addressed  to  him 
by  serpent  falsehood.  I  know  of  no  better  mode  by  wliich  this  and 
other  temptations  may  be  corrected  than  to  call  to  mind  that  very 
topic  which  our  text  has  suggested.  What  God  has  established  in 
the  heavens  or  upon  the  earth  continueth  always  according  to  his 
ordinances.  Shall  man  put  himself  in  antagonism  to  the  laws  of 
nature,  and  expect  impunity  ?  Shall  he  take  fire  into  his  bosom  and 
not  be  burned  ?  Shall  he  dwell  at  the-  bottom  of  the  sea  and  not  be 
drowned?  Sliall  he  drink  poison  and  not  be  harmed  ?  Can  he  shake 
tlie  stability  of  nature  ?  Can  he  arrest  the  sun  and  bid  the  day  stand 
still,  and  the  night  to  forsake  its  place  ?     Can  he  change  the  paral- 


THE    FAITHFULNESS    OF    GOD.  917 

laxes  of  the  stars  ?  Can  he  make  the  hurricane  and  the  ocean  to  obey 
his  voice,  and  the  world  to  wheel  and  turn  for  his  convenience  ?  If 
there  be  one  thing  more  than  another  which  enters  into  every  calcula- 
tion of  man,  it  is  the  immutable  constancy  of  nature.  This  is  not 
arrested  to  suit  the  caprice  of  individuals.  Man  must  conform  to 
this  or  he  suffers  the  invariable  consequences.  But  the  constancy  of 
nature,  as  we  have  seen,  only  illustrates  the  stability  of  revealed  Truth. 
"  The  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die,"  is  the  written  declaration  of  the 
Almighty.  Nature  echoes  the  declaration  in  every  groan  and  twinge 
of  suffering,  from  every  hospital,  from  every  form  and  place  of 
anguish,  where  vicious  indulgence  entails  its  inevitable  retribution. 
Tears,  remorse,  prayers,  stay  not  the  steady  march  and  sweep  of  those 
tremendous  penalties  which  overtake  those  who  trifle  and  contend 
with  the  eternal  steadfastness  of  nature.  "  By  the  deeds  of  the  law 
shall  no  flesh  living  be  justified,"  continues  the  Gospel.  "  He  that 
believeth  shall  be  saved  ;  but  he  that  believeth  not  is  condemned  for- 
ever," is  the  distinct  and  intelligent  utterance  of  the  Most  High. 
Temptation  whispers  its  suggestions  concerning  some  other  way. 
Pride  exalteth  itself  against  the  explicit  aflirmation  of  God's  Word  : 
but  that  Word  is  settled  forever  in  heaven,  and  its  faithfulness  abideth 
unto  all  generations.  No  doublings,  no  mistakes,  no  dislikes,  no 
sincerities,  and  no  oppositions  of  man,  will  ever  set  aside  the  ever- 
lasting ordinances  of  God.  When  God  has  declared  that  all  the 
workers  of  iniquity  shall  go  away  into  punishment  without  an  end, 
if  they  turn  not  and  rejjent  not;  if  he  has  affirmed  that  there  is 
salvation  for  none,  no,  not  one,  save  through  the  redemption  which  is 
by  Jesus  Christ,  that  word  abideth  forever,  unchanged  by  all  the 
opinions  and  practices  of  the  world.  The  only  wisdom  of  man  is  to 
conform  himself  to  the  immutable  verities  of  revelation.  He  would 
not  think  of  trifling  with  the  ordinances  of  nature  ;  why  imagine 
that  he  may  trifle  with  the  ordinances  of  truth  ?  You  would  not  lie 
down  to  sleep  on  the  very  spot  where  the  tides  of  the  ocean  have 
returned  every  day  for  a  century,  believing  that  they  would  stay  their 
surges  for  your  security.  You  would  not  walk  off"  from  a  precipice 
into  thin  air,  expecting  that  gravitation  would  be  suspended  for  your 
security.  You  would  not  continue  to  slumber  in  a  house  enwrapped 
with  flames,  presuming  that  the  laws  of  combustion  will  be  arrested 
for  your  safety.  You  would  not  forego  the  use  of  food  and  drink 
altogether,  in  the  vain  thought  that  life  Avould  be  sustained  without 
nutriment.  Consider  then  what  folly — folly  the  Scriptures  pronounce 
it — to  expose  yourself  to  the  pains  and  penalties  of  God's  moral 
statutes,  dreaming — for  a  dream  only  can  it  be — that  they  will  be 
arrested  and  repealed  out  of  their  settled  operation  for  your  advan- 
tage; and   that  you  may  continue  to  neglect  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 


918  WILLIAM    ADAMS. 

Christ,  and  not  endanger  the  life  of  your  soul.  The  ordinances  of 
God  know  no  exceptions  and  no  deviations ;  whatever  change  or 
turning  or  succumbing  there  may  be,  it  must  be  found  in  conforming 
our  opinions  and  practices  to  their  fixed  and  immovable  quality. 
Many  a  man,  just  as  he  leaves  the  world,  has  awakened  to  a  start- 
ling conviction  of  the  stupendous  folly  which  there  is  in  being  found 
fighting  against  God.  He  was  lured  on  by  syren  voices;  he  cried,. 
Peace,  peace,  when  there  was  no  peace;  so  he  floated  down  the  current 
of  life,  till  at  length  he  came  to  feel  that  he  might  as  Avell  turn  back 
the  Amazon  and  make  it  flow  upwards  to  its  mountain  head-springs? 
or  by  putting  forth  his  hand  cause  the  sun  to  roll  backwards  in  the 
heavens,  as  to  think  of  averting  those  calm,  steady,  and  eternal 
ordinances  of  God,  which  connect  suffering  with  sin,  and  leave  no 
hiding-place  for  such  as  disbelieve  the  Son  of  God. 

A  perfect  conviction  of  the  truth  and  a  steadfast  faith  in  the  cer- 
tainty of  the  Gospel  is  the  highest  and  greatest  attainment.  Absolute 
confidence  is  what  our  enfeebled  nature  requires.  Can  anything  be 
more  adapted  to  produce  it  than  the  truths  now  passing  before  us  ? 
Our  immortal  souls  are  of  too  great  a  value  to  be  ventured  upon  any 
bare  contingency.  We  cannot  trust  our  very  life  to  an  uncertainty. 
We  need  something  more  stable  than  a  peradventure.  Eternity 
involves  issues  too  vast  and  too  solemn  for  us  to  be  satisfied  with  a 
mere  perhapa.  We  ask  for  some  foundation  on  which  to  build  solid 
enough,  strong  enough,  to  survive  the  convulsions  of  the  last  day. 
What  we  ask,  what  we  need,  is  given  us  in  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the 
blessed  God.  There  is  it  affirmed  that  Redemption  has  been  made  for 
the  world ;  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Jesus  Christ  shall  be  saved  ; 
and  whosoever  cometh  to  him  shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out.  These 
utterances  of  God  are  enduring  as  the  mountains,  and  undeviating  as 
the  oi'bits  ,of  the  stars.  Before  one  jot  or  one  tittle  of  this  truth 
shall  fail,  the  heavens  shall  pass  away  and  the  earth  be  shaken  and 
removed.  It  is  called  the  everlasting  covenant  of  God.  "  Though  it 
be  but  a  man's  covenant,  yet  if  it  be  confirmed,  no  man  disannulleth, 
or  addeth  thereto."  A  covenant  between  man  and  man,  signed,  wit- 
nessed, sealed,  is  the  strongest  of  all  confirmations.  That  we  might 
have  strong  "consolations,"  God  hath  not  only  promised,  but  covenant- 
ed, and  that  covenant  has  been  sealed  with  the  blood  of  the  Lamb,  and 
confirmed  by  the  oath  of  the  Eternal ;  and  that  covenant  nothing  can 
disannul  or  make  of  none  effect.  Here  is  that  absolute  certainty 
which  the  soul  craves  in  its  fears  and  mysteries.  Here  is  the  one 
word  which  is  forever  settled  in  heaven,  and  abideth  unchanged 
through  all  generations,  that  whoever  and  whatever  we  are,  if  we  return 
xmto  God  with  penitence  and  prayer  we  shall  be  saved.  There  is 
something  sublime  in  the  frequent  spectacle  which  we  have  seen,  of  a 
man  fashioned  out  of  the  dust  and  returning  unto  dust  again,  reposing 


THE    FAITHFULNESS    OF    GOD.  919 

with  undisturbed  faith  on  the  stable  truth  of  Christ,  going  calmly  into 
eternity,  and  falling  asleep  in  Jesus  as  trustfully  and  fearlessly  as  a  child 
in  its  mother's  arms.  The  secret  of  it  all  is  the  conviction  of  the  absolute 
certainty  of  God's  Avord,  beyond  all  calculation  of  chances,  probabilities, 
and  deviations.  "  The  eternal  God  is  their  refuge  ;  and  underneath  are 
the  everlasting  arms."  All  human  arrangements  are  based  on  the  cer- 
tainty that  the  sun  will  rise,  the  moon  return,  the  stars  keep  on  in 
their  course — that  morning  and  evening,  seedtime  and  harvest,  will 
never  deviate  from  their  regular  succession  ;  and  what  place  is  left  for 
doubt  or  apprehension,  when  we  read  the  word,  the  promise,  the  cov- 
enant, the  oath  of  God,  to  the  stability  of  which  ail  the  agencies  of 
nature  are  made  to  minister?  The  firmest  thing  in  the  universe  is  that 
cross  on  which  the  world's  Redeemer  was  crucified.  Though  shadows 
and  gloom  gathered  around  that  scene  of  suffering,  yet  the  sufiering 
has  passed,  and  all  gloom  and  darkness  have  passed  Avith  it,  and 
higher,  brighter  than  the  sun,  shines  forth  the  transfigured  face  of  our 
ascended  Lord.  No  eclipse  will  ever  shadow  this  efi^'ulgent  truth  : 
"Whoso  believeth  in  me  shall  have  eternal  life,  and  I  Avill  raise  him 
up  at  the  last  day."  We  come  to-day  unto  the  cross  of  Christ,  and 
lay  our  hands  on  its  eternal  strength.  Thousands  before  us  have  done 
it,  and  found  rest.  Tremulous  age  has  trusted  here  and  lost  its  weak- 
ness. Penitence  has  resorted  here  and  found  its  confidence.  Sufiering 
has  fled  here  for  help  and  discovered  its  strength.  Ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  and  thousands  of  thousands,  when  passing  through  the 
prostration  and  mystery  of  death,  have  turned  an  eye,  and  put  forth  a 
hand,  to  the  cross  of  Him  Avho  Avas  lifted  up  to  draAV  all  men  unto  him, 
and  smiles  of  confidence  have  di'iven  aAvay  the  shadoAvs  of  the  grav'e. 
To  whom  shall  Ave  go  but  to  him  ?  Where  shall  we  find  the  absolute 
security  Avhich  Ave  need  but  in  His  redemption  ?  If  you  have  never 
believed  it  before,  hear  and  believe  it  to-day  :  "  If  any  man  thirst,  let 
him  come  unto  me  and  drink,"  "  Whoever  Avill,  let  him  come  and  take 
of  the  Avater  of  life  freely."  There  are  no  secret  reserves,  no  concealed 
exceptions,  no  special  deviations,  Avhose  solution  should  perplex  and 
delay  you,  if  disposed  to  trust  in  this  universal  and  invariable  invita- 
tion. Come  to-day,  and  lay  your  hand  upon  the  cross  and  say,  "I 
know  whom  I  have  believed,  and  that  he  is  able  to  keep  that  Avhich 
I  have  committed  unto  him  against  that  day."  Stand  by  the  cross* 
and  loaning  upon  its  strength  exclaim,  "  I  am  persuaded  that  neither 
life  nor  death,  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor  height,  nor 
depth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  be  able  to  separate  ns  from  the 
love  of  God,  Avhich  is  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

Such  confidence  is  not  presumption;  such  faitt  is  not  rashness; 
for  the  Word  of  God  is  settled  forever  in  Heaven,  and  nis  faith- 
fulness IS  UNTO  ALL  generations. 


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